I have always sang. All of my life. I sing throughout every day, from early morning until I go to sleep at night (I have been known to sing in my sleep as well). My mother sang. My grandparents sang. I sang as a child just as much as I do now.
I sing in my kitchen. I sing in my living room. I sing to my friends (Sorry, y’all!). I sing in the car. I sing on voicemails (it is my firm policy that if I call you and it goes to voicemail, I leave a song). You’re just as likely to walk in on me singing as you are to walk in on me talking. It is a part of who I am and not once have I ever given a thought to how I sound or whether or not I am qualified to sing based on somebody else’s criteria.
Simply put, the Father has given me a voice and put a song in my heart – so I sing.
I think of how much joy I would’ve missed out on had I decided that I needed to be somehow qualified in the world’s eyes, somehow qualified beyond being able to use the voice that the Father gave to me. (After all, I figure He is the one who gave me this voice and if he had wanted it to sound better, he could’ve changed it.)
I sing because God gave me a voice and a song to sing. And so I will sing.
Likewise, He also gave me a heart and neighbor to love. And so I will love.
Regardless of what the world thinks or tells me to do.
I will pierce the silence with singing and I will pierce the darkness with the love of our Father. I am stubborn that way and I’ve found that stubbornness, when used for the Father’s will, is a great and wondrous gift.
As long as He allows me to do it, I will sing – with my voice and with my heart and with my life.
And on the day my voice cracks, I will clear my throat and start again.
I will sing.
God sets the lonely in families, He leads out the prisoners with singing.-Psalm 68:6
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