Yesterday I had a moment of energy after the DayQuil kicked in, so I got up to tidy the bedroom, praying through my anxieties as I picked up clothes and gathered hangers to take to the laundry room. All the while I was enjoying the soothing sounds of the acoustic guitar coming from my son’s room.
As I finished cleaning and headed down the stairs, the words my boy was singing brought me to a stop.
I sat down on the steps to listen and began to quietly sing along with him –very quietly, as teenagers tend to stop the music if they think their mom is listening.
I know that you’re alive.
You came to fix my broken life.
And I’ll sing to glorify
Your Holy name,
I remember when a precious woman at church passed away when I was younger. She was in horrible pain in the last days of her life, and they said she would say the name of Jesus over and over again. That’s how she got through the difficulty of it.
Jesus is alive, and that means something to a person who is sick and worried.
But I needed someone to sing the name of Jesus for me, because I had let my neck muscles get all tight instead of remembering the Savior who has taken over management of my life.
My son’s private song ministered to me, and he doesn’t even know it.
I am confident that the time we spend opening up our Bibles, seeking God, and singing a morning hymn profoundly affects the lives of other people.
“…If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit…” (John 15:5 NIV)