Why else do I sing and pound and lift His name up high? 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. I choose to usher my heart of sadness into song because over four hundred times, Scripture references us to sing. Now if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God - who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly -Īnd it will be given to him. 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. But one thing I assume is that they came with ALL. No, Jesus welcomed all children to come to him, so I’m fairly certain that included the messy, crying, loud ones too. 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. He didn’t demand that only the well-behaved children come. When Jesus declared, “Let the little children come to me,” He didn’t put any caveats on that statement. I am weary with my moaning every night I flood my bed with tears I drench my couch with my weeping. 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. I know He wants what’s best for me, for my son, but the unfolding of that story isn’t known yet. Please be near me, Lord.” With moments of kicking and screaming, I go to Him a bit like a little child. 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. O God, be not far from me O my God, make haste to help me! Psalm 71:12 (KJV) 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. His glory is the goal and praising Him in the middle of pain is my desire. Yes, pounding them hard, wrestling with sadness and questions and frustration. I’ve been pounding on my piano keys a lot lately.
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