I didn’t feel like singing today.
The worship music is my favorite part of the service. Yes, I love hearing God’s word. I love the way our pastor teaches and challenges us to apply what we learn each week. I love seeing fellow believers and catching up from the week’s chaos. I love designating Sunday mornings as uninterrupted, sacred time to reconnect with my Lord. But, mostly, I love the music. I love the way my soul unites with my voice and words of praise, submission, and pure adoration fill the sanctuary.
But I didn’t feel like singing today.
I stood, ready to join voices with my church family. I watched the lyrics move across the screen, and my body swayed with the rhythm of the music. I loved the songs; my heart stirred.
But I didn’t feel like singing today.
I tried. I tried to force the words out, but my throat tightened and tears fell to my lips where praise normally sits. I tried to sing about the great name of Jesus and lift it up in praise. I tried to sing about the weak finding strength in the name of Jesus. Instead of peace, though, my heart was in turmoil, churning with events from the last weeks. Burning with anger and frustration for friends fighting illness, heartache, government systems, and insurance companies. Aching for the injustices in our world.
So I didn’t feel like singing today.
I listened to those around me sing about our good Father. I desperately wanted my voice to join theirs. I wanted to feel the harmony in my heart, to be washed by peace, to be uplifted by the power of praise. But I was trapped, searching for answers. I struggled to sing of how God is perfect in all of His ways when so much of this world seems imperfect.
And I didn’t feel like singing today.
I sat in the back. Tears streaming, voice silent, and heart hurting. Then the first words of the last song settled deep, “Are you hurting and broken within?” My soul replied. Yes.
I didn’t feel like singing today.
My silence. My frustrated, angry, and questioning heart. My inability—my refusal—to sing the words of these songs today. None of that changed the truth of the words.
My feelings, my emotions, and my mood don’t change the truth of who my God is.
He is Jesus, whose name is worthy of praise. He is a good, good, Father who loves me even when I push away. He is my Lord waiting at the altar, the same altar where His Son was sacrificed for me. The altar where He stands with His arms open wide . . . even when I don't feel like singing.
I didn’t feel like singing today, but that didn’t change the truth of the words in the songs.
Maybe you can relate? Maybe you’re in a place where you don’t feel like singing. It’s hard, and it hurts. It’s more anger, confusion, and frustration than peace. It’s OK. Let the tears fall and your voice stay silent. You don’t have to feel like singing for the words to be true.
Originally published on Her View From Home