When my son comes home I know it, because the car stops in the garage and then I can feel the bass from his music. I have suggested that perhaps if I can hear his music from inside the house it is a bit too loud. (You know how he looks at me.)
The thing about music is that it’s hard to contain.
It drifts out from car speakers and from underneath bedroom doors. It fills elevators and stores and restaurants. (Like the old Barry Manilow that had me humming while I ate nachos at Qdoba Saturday night.)
David says to the Lord, “You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.” (Psalm 32:7 NIV)
I sat long on the front steps the other day, with the phone to my ear. The friend on the other end was coming against someone who always tries to make her feel small. I found myself playing for my friend the song of how God unshackled me from low self-esteem, by the very truth of his word. I talked about human court, and how we don’t have to appear there anymore because of what Christ accomplished in God’s court.
If we have experienced deliverance from anger or anxiety or fear or low self-esteem or anything oppressive, well, how can we help but sing? It feels so good to be free.
Let the lyrics of redemption and hope come often from our lips and surround the one who is fighting for life.