Encouragement. Over and over again, that word keeps replaying in my head, a melody needing a harmony. The Father is singing it as a song of deliverance all around me (psalm 32.7-8).
Honestly, this season is a mixed bag. Joy hums her little tune into the tiniest details of life back in this place I love so much. At the same time, insecurity wages full-out war against all that has been built up, and I keep falling hard, so hard. A few key people are really coming around me in this season, loving me from thousands of miles away. A few more trickle into my email inbox this morning. A few more bring their tears to join the chorus. Still others, their laughs, their words, their time, their screens. Some more let me stumble through conversations here in their language.
And in the back of my mind, the melody keeps going: encouragement. My heart is uplifted, its beating strengthened. That’s a part of the harmony: my heartbeat. the heartbeat of one who isn’t thinking through limitless what-ifs. the heartbeat that isn’t racing with competition or halting with comparison. the heartbeat that is held by the hand of the God who hums His tune to you, smiling with those eyes that sweetly beg you to join His song.
And instantly, you know the remaining harmony. It’s your reception, your recognition of His voice. It’s your refusal to ever take His voice over you lightly. This isn’t a game to Him. He isn’t waiting for the right words or response. Simply allowing your voice to sing along is the harmony He wants.
And now it hits me. The enemy doesn’t win the war. He never wins when encouragement raises its voice over the lies. When truth starts its trill, the enemy has to flee. The enemy cannot stand the music of God.
Yet we get to hear it. Even when the enemy has won a battle, he cannot sound any alarm or trumpet of victory. Because God’s victorious cry has already been given—“It is finished!”— by a man who died for love to reach us on those battlefields we could never retreat. His dying breath has silenced our enemy’s voice (even when it doesn’t seem like it).
His music continues, no matter the battle. No matter the circumstances or the noise that comes against it. The music of God can still be heard. Listen, daughters and sons.
And we get to sing along. He’s given us the heartbeat and the voice. If we listen closely enough, we’ll hear others joining in. And, if we sing long enough, we’ll somehow, mysteriously, miraculously, join the God of the Universe in inviting others to sing, too. Sing, daughters and sons.
That’s what I want my life to be about: harmonizing in such a way that invites others in. Singing so sweetly that I can neither be noticed nor ignored. Singing so softly that His voice is heard first, recognized first, loved first. Just singing along with His song.