The Music God Made
Sing to him, sing praise to him; tell of all his wonderful acts. (Psalm 105:2)
I’m out for my morning run, and I’m approaching a hill. My running song pumps from the MP3 player the boys bought me. I play the same song over and over because it has a strong pulse. A beat. It’s easy for my body to fall in step with the music, and somehow the physical stress doesn’t seem so hard.
My body catches in the momentum.
But I’m a fourth of the way up the hill when the music stops. Dead battery. Suddenly there’s silence. No beat to carry me forward. No rhythm to join. I’m surprised, after a few yards, by how much this affects me. The steps seem harder and I still have a mile and a half to go. I feel like stopping. Surely this is a good reason to halt.
But I keep moving forward, a string of complaints creating a new beat in my mind.
I make it to the top of the hill and am pleased to feel that my legs have become less tight. My stride stretches. My body opens up. My muscles move with ease. I make my way around the corner, to where the residential neighborhood slips away and the countryside unravels free, to where there are barns and fields and a dozen shades of green. And it’s then that I notice that my ears have opened, too.
There are morning sounds all around me. Birds making song. A gentle breeze flowing through the trees. There is chirping. Croaking. And somewhere, in the distance, there are farm sounds, too. Even my own breathing is music. My footfalls blend right in, tapping a steady beat.
And I understand that these are the sounds of creation. His creation, his world, bringing forth praise.
I press on for the distance, along the curvy country road, caught in the momentum of this new song. It’s precious being here, being part of this chorus. Joining these sounds that create a pure, steady praise. My muscles still burn, but I can move forward with this music.
I’ll be running again tomorrow. And I may just leave my old running song behind.
This new one is beautiful. I don’t want to miss a beat.
Do you hear a song of praise today? Will you share?
A child’s gift reminds a mother that our transgressions are long forgotten. We’re seen as clean and new.