I almost got pulled over yesterday.
On my way to work, singing at the top of my lungs. The louder I sang, the harder my foot pressed down on the pedal.
There are two instances when my lead foot takes over:
- The baby is screaming. My failed attempts at passing back something to soothe or distract only push me to reach my destination even faster.
- A song comes on that I am really feeling.
Well, today I’m not traveling with babies, so I will blame my speeding on Matt Redman. His version of “Nothing But The Blood”…what can I say? The words say enough. It’s a feeling that I can’t get enough of. I am convinced that the louder the music and the louder I sing, the more tangible the lyrics, like I can literally pull them out of the song and put them into my soul. Nothing fills my heart like these words. Like the Truth that is behind the words. It makes me act crazy. I will call it ‘crazy love’.
My husband would never believe that I turn up a song to max volume. When he’s in control of the radio, I swear my ears become super sensitive and I can’t handle it at 50%. We can push all the fancy buttons that make the music louder on his side, but that’s about as useful as a smoking section in a mom-and-pop diner. Sorry babe, I like Lynard Skynard, but they (he?) just doesn’t make my heart thump..except for “Simple Man” because it was my ringtone back when you were still driving Papa Smurf.
Sometimes, music touches my soul in a way I can’t explain. And I guess my voice, and shoulders, and hands have to express it. Yes, I occasionally get this way with other genres, especially if I’m feeling a little extra country and in love. (I feel the need to give an awkward LOL here.) But nothing makes my soul dance like the Spirit. And I can’t contain it.
Yes, I am the weirdo at the stoplight who looks like a mix of a karaoke contestant and an interpretive dancer. She is really getting into it, fingers banging the steering wheel drum and shoulders moving with the beat, until she realizes that you are looking at her. Then she suddenly converts to a ventriloquist because she doesn’t want you to see her in this state but simply can’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth. Why didn’t I get tinted windows?
When I first started this blog, I was determined that I was going to maintain a fairly neutral approach, one that didn’t scream I LOVE JESUS and end up turning people away because of their preconceived notions about ‘in your face’ Christians. After all, I’m not here to convert you or judge you. I’m here to share life with you. To be real about real life stuff. To show you love, compassion, and mercy in a world that is already so judgmental and hateful. If you connect with something I say and decide you want to share in the joy that I have, awesome. I will not force it. But one thing I cannot do is suppress it. I cannot be lukewarm. I cannot pretend that I love being a part of this world when I really don’t. I love being a Jesus follower in this world. I love it, even though I know that one day I may face persecution, and, considering the rate that evil seems to be overtaking the world around me, may even die for it one day.
Essentially, this blog development process has taught me that I have been attempting to put a shade in front of the real me. I have been hesitant to show you the real me for fear of disapproval. But friends, I have approval from the only One who matters.
When you really have the light, it is impossible to hide in a world of darkness.
Isaiah 59 tells us, “So justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us. We look for LIGHT, but all is darkness; for brightness, but we walk in deep shadows. Like the blind we grope along the wall, feeling our way like people without eyes. At midday we stumble as if it were twilight; among the strong, we are like the dead.”
But THEN the light came.
Jesus said, “I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.”
Proverbs 4:18-19 says, “The path of the righteous is like the morning sun, shining ever brighter till the full light of day. But the way of the wicked is like deep darkness; they do not know what makes them stumble.”
How can I expect someone without the light to even see what they are stumbling on? You don’t realize it until you have the light. I have the light. And I love it.
Paul says, “For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” If I seem a bit crazy to you, there is a reason for that.
I want the light. Even though it will expose all of my evil human deeds, I want it. I want the eternal joy that it promises. I will not try to cover it or pretend like it doesn’t consume every aspect of my life. Does that mean I am always in the mood to sing? Not at all. Does that mean I am always happy-go-lucky and carefree? Um, no. Does it mean I always do the right things? If you think I will answer ‘yes’, you obviously haven’t been following my blog.
What it does mean is that I always have the ever-present joy and peace that comes with knowing the one who died to give it to me. It means that the creator of all the unthinkable things around me, he actually cares about me. And you. It means that when the lights go out on my life or on this world (whichever comes first), I will still be in the light.
And that is something worth singing about no matter how happy, pretty, or in love I feel. No matter what you think of me.
So if you see the awkward girl at the stoplight trying to act like she wasn’t just singing her heart out, tell her to get over it and keep singing.
If you want to know why she’s that into it, flag her down. Make her pause her song long enough to tell you why she’s acting like a fool.
Maybe you’re singing the same song. If that’s the case, by all means, keep on singing. Just don’t let your foot feel it as much as the rest of your body, or you will be forced to explain your actions to the cop. Then again, he may need to learn about this different kind of crazy.