A Reason to Sing

“When the pieces seem too shattered

To gather off the floor

And all that seems to matter

Is that I can’t feel you anymore

Is that I don’t feel you anymore

 

I need a reason to sing

I need a reason to sing

I need to know that you’re still holding

The whole world in your hands

I need a reason to sing”

 

The song, ‘Reason to Sing’, by All Sons & Daughters basically sums up the past few months for me. There has been so much going on in my head and heart that I am finally sitting down and processing and every time I hear the first verse and chorus of that song I am reminded of just how much He really does love me and He really does want to be the reason I sing (as corny as it may sound).

Fall was a very strange and awkward time for me. In September we found out my mema (Dad’s mom) was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer and doctors didn’t give her much time.  Then, in October I got a promotion at work that brought me more privileges and a whole bunch more responsibility.

As if those situations weren’t emotional enough I started to get sick which led to complete and utter exhaustion.  I was tired and emotional, but I just kept trying to chug along on fumes thinking that I could run away from all that was going on in my heart.  Somewhere in all that madness I just stopped spending time in God’s Word and convinced myself that it was just a season of busyness.

In short, I was running away from God and trying to run on my own strength.

Of course, you know where this is going….

One day I just cracked. I’m not even sure what happened, but one minute I’m talking to my boss about something and the next I’m crying hysterically in the stairwell of my office building as a few patient friends try to comprehend the incoherent babble coming from my mouth. In a matter of minutes all of the walls that I had carefully constructed around my heart just came crashing down and I was left exposed.

I stopped running.

I was tired. My heart was sore. And I was ready to breathe again.

And, because He is relentless, He reminded me of the Gospel. He called me, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11: 28). I could breathe again.

My mema passed away in December and I was overwhelmed by God’s kindness toward me as I realized how amazing His timing is in all things. Just a few weeks before that,  I was able to come to grips with the fact that my mema was not going to be with us much longer, so I prayed fervently that God would give me peace and comfort. I spent Thanksgiving at her house with family just enjoying each other and telling old stories. As I pulled away from her house that day I was overwhelmed with peace. I knew He was in control and I trusted that truth.

And I was reminded of that truth at work recently when I was bogged down in stress and anxiety about things beyond my control.

Somehow a co-worker and I started talking about the story of Abraham and Sarah and their promised son. When she had asked a question about Ishmael, I was reminded that God really does want what’s best for me.

Abraham and Sarah had the PROMISE of a son. God had said it would happen and still they took matters into their own hands.  They got tired of waiting. They forgot the Truth. So, they tried doing things on their own terms. Enter a servant and an illegitimate child 9 months later. There were consequences to their actions.

But, the God of Abraham and Sarah was and is faithful to His children and to His own glory. Even after all that Abraham and Sarah had done He kept His Word to them, and Isaac was born. Abraham was 100 years old! And God did what He said He was going to do!

And He is still doing so.

Even in my running from Him and in my mourning and even in my joy, He is faithful.  And He gives me a reason to sing.

 

“When I’m overcome by fear

And I hate everything I know

If the waiting last forever

I’m afraid I might let go

 

I need a reason to sing

I need a reason to sing

I need to know that you’re still holding

The whole world in your hands

I need a reason to sing

 

Will there be a victory?

Will you sing it over me now?

Your peace is a melody

Will you sing it over me now?

 

I need a reason to sing

I need a reason to sing

I need to know that you’re still holding

The whole world in your hands

I need a reason to sing”

I’ll Fly Away

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about death recently. I know that is completely morbid, and I assumed it would be a rather disturbing image for you, but it’s the truth.

To me, winter always means death. Look around you. The trees are barren and the skies are gray. Well, unless you live in some tropical place (in that case, you will need to use your imagination). During winter, the days seem shorter with the early darkness and the temperatures seemingly force us all to spend more hours in bed.

My sudden desire for hibernation is not the only reason why I keep thinking of death. Recently I read the very first journal entry I have. In fact, it is the only entry I wrote in the Disney Princess diary my aunt brought back for me after one of her trips to California. There on the first page of the journal in the big bubble writing of an eleven year old, I wrote about one of the most heartbreaking events that I had experienced at the time; my great grandma had died.

Honestly, I can’t remember much about my grandma Gracie. Most of my memories of her seem to be a mixture of things I have heard from others or some collage of faded pictures in my head. By the time I was cognitive enough to understand illness she had grown weary from a combination of old age and years of illness and fatigue. I know we would visit her often but she seldom remembered me and would refer to me by my brother’s name. I have vivid memories of gathering pecans in her backyard and watching her light up when my uncle played some of her favorite hymns on his guitar.

The older I get the more I learn of my family members and their character. Maybe it’s my growing perspective of the world or my age, but I am learning no one is what they seem. The more questions I ask of my grandma and mom, the more I realize that fact is true of my grandma Gracie as well. From what I hear, she was a difficult and hard woman at times. But, when I was eleven, she seemed to me a rare, wonderfully fascinating anomaly. In my head, she was the matriarch that held our huge family together. She was the tie that bonded me to so many people I loved.

As you can imagine, her death was difficult for so many. Her funeral was the first funeral I ever attended. It was also the first time I saw my Uncle Randy, who had seemed so invincible (and a tad terrifying to me) cry. My heart hurt for those I loved. It still hurts for them. In truth, her death opened my eyes to a lot of different things.

Mainly, her death taught me an incredible lesson about God.

On September 23, 1999 I wrote, (warning there is terrible grammar)

“Why? Today out of all days grandma Gracie had to die.
I already miss her and it hasn’t even been a day.
Mom says I should be happy for her because she was suffering and she doesn’t have to anymore and Aunt Kelly says we should be happy because she is going to see grandpa.
I say she went to see God. I miss her a lot and I don’t care what anyone else says.”

My 11-year-old handwritten journal entry.

Her physical death taught me for the first time that this is not my home. I believed in Jesus as my savior and only hope for a relationship with God when I was 9. But, it took Grandma Gracie’s death to show me that I had been given so much more than salvation from hell; I’d been gifted with a blessed hope for each day of this life and the next. Her death taught me a whole bunch about life.

Death and life are such common themes in the Word of God.

Besides the wonderful gift of life that comes from the horribly gruesome death of Christ on the Cross there are so many occurrences of Christ calling those who follow Him to die.

Christ was referring to every type of death—physical, spiritual, behavioral, etc. I believe He still is asking that of us today.

He calls me to die to myself daily. When I would rather my roommates do the dishes in the sink or take out the trash He is calling me to die to my preferences and serve them. The times at work when I am talking to a member and I want to argue and defend myself, my co-workers, and our company He is calling me to lovingly listen and respect the person on the other end of the phone.

Death has been on my mind lately because it is constantly on His.

He desires that I would die. And, honestly, sometimes I am more okay with being a martyr in some hostile country for Him than I am with loving people that I would rather punch in the face. (I said ‘honestly’) But, He is calling me to die. Die to my hopes and dreams for my future, die to my selfish desire of fame or glory or attention from others, and He promises me that those deaths will lead to life.

LIFE.

So, death has been on my mind lately because with death there is hope for life.

Winter usually means death for most plants, but the best thing for any tree is the shedding of its leaves. Winter always gives way for spring and with spring comes new life.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” ~John 12:24

Grandma Grace Mae and Grandpa William James Higgins circa 1971