A New Song

“I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined unto me, and heard my cry.

“He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.

“And He hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the LORD.”

The other day my husband and I took our children to an amusement park.  Our goal was simply to enjoy them; to take a break out of the relentless crazy of illness and overwhelming circumstances, and just enjoy the beauty of “together.”  In the moments between interaction and excitement, there were spaces of profound silence.  In those fleeting seconds, my soul observed the hustle and bustle of all around me.  I saw the healthy and strong that could still ride all of the rides with their children or grandchildren.  I wondered what it would be like to have a body free from chronic pain and neurological hiccups.  I absently wondered if they appreciated the gift that it is – the gift we once had before mold illness.

Over the past four years, there have been many days where I feel like we tripped and fell into a deep dark hole.  I strain in the darkness for reassurance, but this place has no familiar landmarks that breathe security over me.  I reach out for comfort, but touch is greeted by the cold uncaring of the ragged walls of impossibilities.  I try to climb up – back to the light and the life I once knew – but the mire of pain, distress, and perplexity hold me back, pulling me in deeper.  Unanswered questions hang heavy in the air.  It is with a sinking terror that one thought becomes painfully clear – I am trapped in my own life.

I do not live in the wilderness, an exile from my own country, like David.  I do not live in a dungeon for a crime I did not commit, like Joseph.  I am not spending forty years of my life, wandering in the desert for the sins of others, like Joshua and Caleb.  Yet I have known the yearning of a prisoner all the same, for we can be bound down by life even when we walk free.

Many beloved daughters of the Lord feel bound in bodies, marriages, finances, or circumstances that are far from what they dreamed of.  We’ve drunk from the cup of bitter disappointment or experienced the pain of deep sorrow.  We’ve grieved over the loss of our treasured plans or the shattering of normal.  We’ve been wounded or forsaken – or both.  Hang on dear sister, for there is still hope even in life’s prisons.

These places are dark and ugly because of sin and all the consequences that it brought with it.  It will touch each of us with its suffering, but in the hands of Christ it can be transformed into places of beauty.  Through them we become aware of our deep need.  We come face to face with what we are really made of – the fears, the insecurities, the lack of the image of Christ in our own soul.  We see how very far we are from the patience of Christ, how poorly we “suffer long,” or how dependent we were on the things of this life for our sense of happiness or wholeness.  As we discover our inability to fix what is wrong we become persuaded of our own insufficiency.  As we fail to mend broken bodies or relationships we yearn for the Dayspring to arrive in our mess with healing in His wings.  As we face unending bills and needs with our impoverished resources, we are deeply humbled by our inadequacy.

And we learn to wait for Him, to be still.  Time slows up and we see His patient work with us…how unafraid He is of time, how much He values patience.

The deep darkness of the pit turns our eyes up.  It helps us to see clearer – first ourselves and the condition we are in – but then what is above us.  We are taken afresh and anew with His promises.  His Word comes alive in our need, for when we see ourselves as we truly are, the glory and preciousness of all that He is sparkles like the light.  The captive’s heart is bound tightly to its Saviour.  Notice the words in the Scripture – when we cry out to Him He will not leave us there. He will incline His ear unto me, the captive.  He will hear me, the prisoner.  He will bring me up out of this miry pit, place my feet on a firm foundation, and establish me. 

I am learning, slowly but surely, that the prison’s of life are there to set us free.  We may think that we are just fine as we were.  We may feel strongly that it was wholly unnecessary to go through such a heart-wrenching place.  But the Lord knows better.  He knows that we are blind to our true condition, to our true need – and sometimes life has to mirror back to us what we really are.  Sometimes we have to be trapped on a boat in the middle of a raging sea before we realize our rowing, our self-sufficiency, isn’t going to be enough and we cry out to Him.

Miry pits and prison cells are part of life, but they are not the destination.  Our dear Lord desires to establish us and teach us a new song.  Not the shallow songs that came naturally to us, or the mournful notes of the captive, but His very own song.  A song that makes others sit up and take notice because of the heavenly strains.  A song of patience.  A song of transformation and gratefulness.  A song of deliverance.

I wanted to complete this thought, this truth of a new song and the profound significance of it by some Scripture and meditations my husband wrote down the other day.

“‘Psalms 89:15-16 Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound: they shall walk, O LORD, in the light of thy countenance. In thy name shall they rejoice all the day: and in thy righteousness shall they be exalted.’

“Could it be that there is a joyful song that we do not know? A song that is foreign and clumsy on our lips and our natural tongue cannot speak? Is it possible that the burdens and trials of today are a music lesson for tomorrow? Is it possible that God is teaching our tongues to sing the language of praise? Could we say this life is a rehearsal for the next, and that in the next all we say or sing will be couched in praise to the Lamb? Could it be that in Heaven we will be compelled to praise because the tangible facts confront us on every side? Could it be that today we avoid praise until the tangible is in hand? Could it be that we have missed the music lesson most pleasing to the Father’s heart, the lesson where we praise Him in faith? Is it possible that the purest form of faith is sincere praise before a prayer is answered? When all hope is gone, our strength is small, and our resources are slim, could it be that right there is the perfect time to practice our praise? Could it be that praising in faith is the only fitting way to approach the Throne of our God? (Ben Jossund)

“‘Psa_22:3 But thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel.’