One of the most captivating experiences for me during the pandemic lockdown (day 28 here in Spain), has been hearing the non-stop chorus of birds singing in the background as I spend time with Jesus one of our two balconies. I know- we’re spoiled. I’ve not noticed their songs in quite this way before. Could I be hearing their melody more clearly now because of the stillness of my street? Or am I usually much more distracted?
I recently discovered, much to my surprise and delight, that scientists who study birds have found that when human noise diminishes, the songs of birds increase. I’ve been marveling at how God does something similar with the songs of the human heart. When the noise of our external world diminishes, can’t we hear our own music more distinctly?
I’m reminded of the book of Psalms, and the powerful model they give to the expression of songs of the soul as they are poured out to God. In one of my favorite resources, The Message of the Psalms, Theologian Walter Brueggemann describes three seasons of life that are reflected there by the psalmists.
The Psalms of orientation reflect our seasons of security, when life is well-ordered and reliable. We feel oriented, confident, optimistic, and safe. We all love these seasons, as we should. But often we can feel that this is the “right” or “spiritual” season to be in. When we purposefully manufacture or just present a face of being well, we can rob ourselves and others of true connection. Authentic seasons of orientation, however, bring deep joy and contagious hope. (see Psalms 145, 104, 37, 133)
Personally, my soul’s songs of disorientation have been inescapable lately. I’ve been aware of the pain in the world, and the pain in my own story as it intersects this season. In moments of grief, anxiety, and sadness I to cry out to God in dependence and need that draw me closer to Him. He is the God who weeps, the God of compassion, the God of feels deeply with me. What a comfort to have a safe place to lament.
The Psalms of new orientation often take us by surprise after a time of waiting… and waiting, and waiting. These are anthems that celebrate breakthrough to new and often unexpected gifts from God. Just when we were wondering, He proves again that he redeems every bit of our lives. These don’t sing of a return to normal, but of new growth. Our hearts have grown deeper and wider in the most beautiful ways. (see Psalms 30, 34, 114, 138)
We can be too quick to try to move ourselves, and one another (including the kids in our lives) through the seasons. But there is no forcing, hurrying, demanding God’s unfolding story in our lives. And after all, reality is the only place we can meet God.
So, when and where can you get still and listen?
Who can you gift with your listening and accepting presence?
Thank you, I feel like I have grown to know you and grown to love you not just as John’s wife but a dear sister in Christ, I am thankful
In His arms,
Lynda
I feel the same, Lynda. You are navigating your grief journey with such beauty and grace. I’m glad that we’ve connected.
Thank you Sandy for leaving a ‘comment’ on Grace’s site today. It lead me here.
Blessings to you both this Easter, as always! So good to read your Spark
What Matters. There is something that resinates deep with me – most definitely God’s stirring within – when I am able to be out in God’s creation & to hear His songbirds!!
Hi Liz! many blessings to you!