I’ve been pounding on my piano keys a lot lately. Yes, pounding them hard, wrestling with sadness and questions and frustration. Creating beautiful music isn’t my goal. His glory is the goal and praising Him in the middle of pain is my desire. I’m compelled to turn my worry into worship even when the enemy is trying to chase me down, but it’s coming at a cost.

Pound, pound.

O God, be not far from me; O my God, make haste to help me! 
Psalm 71:12 (KJV)

When words fail me, when I have no immediate answer for our son’s devastating call, I raise my hands to the heavens and cry, “Why? Why, Lord? It’s just not fair . . . Please be near me, Lord.” With moments of kicking and screaming, I go to Him a bit like a little child. I know He wants what’s best for me, for my son, but the unfolding of that story isn’t known yet. And right now, in the midst of it, His story isn’t the one I’d choose, so those out-of-tune ivories have been getting a much needed workout.

Pound. Praise. Pound.

When Jesus declared, “Let the little children come to me,” He didn’t put any caveats on that statement. He didn’t demand that only the well-behaved children come. He didn’t ask the disciples to bring the little children who would sit quietly by His side and never ask questions, nor do I assume it was the calm, tranquil environment of which children’s’ picture books paint that scene.

No, Jesus welcomed all children to come to him, so I’m fairly certain that included the messy, crying, loud ones too. But one thing I assume is that they came with ALL. THE. QUESTIONS. Envision it: “Why, Jesus? Why? Why?” Since we are His children, His most beloved daughters, He welcomes our questions and our cries because the answers are laid out for us. His Word does not return void.

Pound. Cry. Pound. Praise.

Now if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God — who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly —
and it will be given to him.
James 1:5 (CSB)

I choose to usher my heart of sadness into song because over four hundred times, Scripture references us to sing. Fifty of those times, God assigns direct commands to sing, so I pound those keys through my frustrations and sing the truth found in Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs until they’ve pointed me to His faithfulness.

Why else do I sing and pound and lift His name up high?

I sing Scripture to impart solid theology to memory, but I also sing Scripture because songs of lament pierce my soul and allow the Holy Spirit to move my heart into a deeper connection of reverence and repentance before Him.

I sing songs of thanksgiving, not only because it’s commanded but also because I sing in response to His rescue and redemption of my life. He saved me from my sin, so how can I not sing?

Miriam, a woman, was the very first worship leader in Scripture. In Exodus 15, after the Israelites witnessed God’s power to miraculously destroy their enemies and deliver them from bondage, she picked up a tambourine and led with her song, testifying in gratitude His power to save. As we’re rescued from bondage, our souls ignite with a response of gratitude like Miriam’s. The Lord is worthy of our trust, so how can we not praise?

Sing to the Lord, for he is highlight exalted.
Exodus 15:21 (NIV)

Praise. Pound. Praise.

I sing of His love because when life doesn’t make sense, He does. I sing of His faithfulness because when Satan tries to tell me otherwise, God’s goodness is still worthy of our praise.

I fight to praise in the middle of my pain because He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Praise. Praise. Raise a hallelujah.

So, let’s turn on our favorite worship song. Sing loudly. Raise your hands to the heaven and dance in the kitchen. Boldly declare the truth in times of trial because when we sing His name, darkness flees.

This is my declaration today:

I raise a hallelujah, in the presence of my enemies
I raise a hallelujah, louder than the unbelief
I raise a hallelujah, my weapon is a melody
I raise a hallelujah, heaven comes to fight for me
I’m gonna sing, in the middle of the storm
Louder and louder, you’re gonna hear my praises roar
Up from the ashes, hope will arise
Death is defeated, the King is alive!
I raise a hallelujah, with everything inside of me
I raise a hallelujah, I will watch the darkness flee
I raise a hallelujah, in the middle of the mystery
I raise a hallelujah, fear you lost your hold on me!
I’m gonna sing, in the middle of the storm
Louder and louder, you’re gonna hear my praises roar
Up from the ashes, hope will arise
Death is defeated, the King is alive!
Raise a Hallelujah (Bethel Music)

 

Won’t you come pound some praises with me? How can I lift you up?

I first shared this at (in)courage . Since I’m not posting at Balancing Beauty and Bedlam as regularly as I’d like, this is a place for women to come and get spiritual encouragement in their everyday.

I still share regular on IG at Jenschmidt_beautyandbedlam so connect with me there too. 

Contact Jen

Let's Be Friends

Subscribe to the Beauty and Bedlam Blog

Join my mailing list to receive the latest news and updates from Beauty and Bedlam.

You have Successfully Subscribed!