My Voice Outstretched

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For me, singing is like following a rainbow through black rain.
It is like crepuscular rays that rupture leaden skies.

Singing is like walking in an unmarked place, lost, not sure of prayer or path and
seeing far off the pinpoint light that means home.

It is faithfilled praise, knowing that in this one moment with this one voice,
I am sure of one thing.

It is a hopefilled reach, feeling that in these simple words with this simple tune,
I am grounded in at least one true thing.

Singing is declaring Your worth when I am unsure of myself.

Singing is my voice outstretched, knowing if my hands were raised,
I would not sing but cry.

For me, singing is a peace of the puzzle of life—respite, restoration, renewal;
and so when other parts of my life seem weak and wondering, lacking conviction,
I will sing.

When disoriented,
disheartened, and
feeling distant,
I will sing.
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Psalm 104:33
I will sing to the Lord as long as I live.
I will praise my God to my last breath!

Psalm 5:11
But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;
let them sing joyful praises forever.
Spread your protection over them,
that all who love your name may be filled with joy.

 

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As if in a Dream

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I look through my own grid, and I’m not sure how to see differently.

I know just how you feel–

well, not really. I can imagine walking in your shoes,

but truth is I don’t. I can imagine feeling what you feel,

but truth is I can’t. Small wonder we feel the separation and division strongly,

but so often

so alone.

And that warm, fuzzy unity is an out-there goal, a hope,

but

until I am you, I walk as if in a dream.

Oh, wait . . .

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I love to listen to those who agree with me;

I hate those who are oppositional. Oh, wait . . .

I need to listen to those who are oppositional so I can hone my arguments—

enough to win the debate. Oh, wait . . .

Winning is not all I am called to as a believer

so

how do I hold to a position and defend a position without being arrogant,

without appearing holier than thou,

with being open to learning a new point of view?

I love to be right.

I hate to be wrong.

But

how will I ever grow and know unless I listen.

Oh, wait . . .