I joined the choir at church.
I know right? Do scary things.
No robes. Way chill and the best part? No audition necessary. Sold.
I’m not a musician, and I’m no soloist, but music speaks to my soul like nothing else does. Well, maybe the mountains. The two together are unmatched in my world, but mountains escape us here in Texas, so I often connect and commune with God through song. Sometimes, after I drop the kids at school, I pull into my garage and just sit in my car and cry or think or sing or check out. It’s my very own undistracted space and I can feel all the feels, or not. Weird I know, but motherhood makes you do weird things.
Anyway, I felt a tug in my soul to step out and do this thing, and I gotta tell ya, it’s the best seat in the house. To be able to sing and unleash with the reverberation of the music rumbling the floor beneath you, it’s electric and magnetic and I imagine the tiniest glimpse of what heaven will feel like. All the instruments. All the people of every color and every nation and every tribe and every age. No judgement or criticism or hate. Just one beautiful song.
This week has been unexpectedly hard. I’ve said this before about grief, but it’s the strangest little sucker. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, like when you’re standing in front of hundreds of people and on camera and singing and wearing non-waterproof mascara and you have zero tissues for your snotty face, and you’re moved to tears and stopped dead in your tracks. It’s sneaky.
That was Sunday morning, Palm Sunday, when we sang a song called “Is He Worthy?” (go to Spotify and look up the Shane and Shane version and get in your car by yourself, and crank it, and grab tissues by the way. I speak from experience)
I was familiar with the song and we’d rehearsed it quite a bit, where I had in fact, been just fine.
Until I wasn’t.
Right there on that stage as we sang about Christ’s sacrifice and how insanely worthy He is of ALL OF OUR PRAISE I came completely undone. Unable to speak or sing the words, as I imagined my dad, singing this song every single second of every single day in heaven. Praising. Bowing low. Words escaping his lips that weren’t possible for him on earth, as he could no longer speak. My dad is singing all the time, and in that moment, we were both singing about Jesus, the Lion of Judah, the Great I Am, the Beginning and the End, the Healer of our sin sick souls, the Lamb who came to carry the sins of the world so that we could be whole. I imagined, much like Isaiah talks about in scripture, the Lord seated on His throne, his robe filling the temple and so majestic and beautiful that all those around him can do is sing, He is so very worthy of our praise. Is He worthy?
He is.
I imagined dad, bowing before Jesus, clothed in a beautifully perfect heavenly body with a voice free of affliction, and it was almost more than my soul could bear. It still is.
Music was a really big part of my childhood. My dad played the guitar and he and I would usually stay awake on road trips just so we could sing as much as we could while my sister and my mom slept. On Sunday mornings he would crank his 1980’s totally gigantic Pioneer surround sound with White Heart and Keith Green(80’s Christian music, in case your ears didn’t have the privilege in 1987) and bluegrass and rock and country and everything in-between, and wake up our entire house with his jam. He got the biggest kick out of it, and now, what do I have in my living room? That’s right, a big ole Pioneer stereo system that can rock every room in our house. It was here when we moved in, totally and completely meant to be. My family is not amused, but I know my dad would love it.
I often break out in song and dance while I make lunches and dinner and clean toilets and it’s this beautiful expression of what I often can’t put into words. And Jesus knows exactly what I say in those moments, and I feel connected to the creator of the world, which is perhaps one of the greatest privileges and the greatest miracles all wrapped into one moment of worship.
We spent the final days of my dad’s life, by his side, sitting on his bed, singing. All his favorites(Shane and Shane being at the top of his list) played around the clock, and it’s what was playing as he stepped into heaven, slipping from one beautiful melody to another. He couldn’t join with us in those final days, or for the few final years of his life, as he had no ability to speak, but I know his heart was praising and longing for heaven because he knew. He knew what awaited him there and he knew the songs would be so much sweeter when done free of distraction and sin and shame and heartache and all our humanity.
Angie Smith, one of my favorite author’s, lost her dad last week. On her Instagram this week she said she and her sister felt their dad had given her his pen, and her sister his paintbrush. That’s very much how I feel about my dad. He had two girls, and he gave each of us these unique down to your soul kinds of passions. He handed me his love of horses, running, the written word and the pure joy of a really good song. It was our thing, which I think is why I’m so moved by a powerful lyric or melody, the blending of just the right notes and the buildup and grandeur of music. It not only connects me to Jesus, it now connects me to him.
This week I pictured my dad at the feet of Jesus, singing at the very top of his lungs, and at that very moment, we were both singing, me from a stage on a Palm Sunday morning and my dad from the edge of the throne of the King.
I get so focussed on the loss and the grief and the absence of him that I often forget the gain.
His gain.
He gained eternity. He gained a front row seat to the King. He gained a new body and he gained a beautiful new voice and the literal sight of Jesus. He gained opportunity to worship the one who died for us. He’s seen the scars and He’s kissed the feet of the one who came with no longing for anything else. He has seen THE ONE who died and the one who rose. The one who suffered, willingly, when He could have said no. Jesus conquered the grave friends. It had no hold on Him and the earth literally shook at the moment of His death. The temple vail, which was about as thick as a man’s hand, and which separated the very presence of God from the people, tore from top to bottom as Jesus took his final breath. Commentator’s say it took 300 priests to move the vail, which speaks to its size. It wasn’t easily torn, and it ripped in two as Jesus bore the sins of the world in his death. That is the power of an almighty God.
No more separation.
That is a God who deserves our sacrifice. Our lives. Our praise. Our adoration. Our attention and our focus and our whole selves. Our voices. Is he worthy?
He is.
This easter is different, as death changes your perspective on living quite a bit. Dad’s death has changed how I live, how I think, how I process, and how I worship. Words about heaven now carry with them a powerful visual of what it might be like to be absent from this earth and present with the Messiah, the promised deliverer. One day my dad and I will be side by side, on our faces joined in song to the same God who saved us both.
One day, every people and tribe, every nation and tongue, every living thing will bow in reverence to the only one who is worthy. Wether you believe in Him or not, every single knee will bow before the creator of the earth. He flung the stars into space and put the ground beneath our feet. He formed our innermost parts with precision and beauty and grace. He gave us everything, and we messed it up with our sin. And yet, He made a way. He didn’t leave us dead in our sin, naked and alone. He orchestrated a beautiful story of redemption that spun it’s way through thousands of years of history. He came so we didn’t have to live forever without him. Death is our penalty, and yet He gives us breath and life. He gives us oneness with Him. He gives us hope. No more separation. No more vail. Is He Worthy?
He most definitely is.
~Kelly Anderson
Is He Worthy
Do you feel the world is broken? (We do)Do you feel the shadows deepen? (We do)
But do you know that all the dark won’t stop the light from getting through? (We do)
Do you wish that you could see it all made new? (We do)Is all creation groaning? (It is)
Is a new creation coming? (It is)
Is the glory of the Lord to be the light within our midst? (It is)
Is it good that we remind ourselves of this? (It is)
Is anyone worthy? Is anyone whole?
Is anyone able to break the seal and open the scroll?
The Lion of Judah who conquered the grave
He is David’s root and the Lamb who died to ransom the slave
Is He worthy? Is He worthy?
Of all blessing and honor and glory
Is He worthy of this?
He is
Does the Father truly love us? (He does)
Does the Spirit move among us? (He does)
And does Jesus, our Messiah hold forever those He loves? (He does)
Does our God intend to dwell again with us? (He does)
Is anyone worthy? Is anyone whole?
Is anyone able to break the seal and open the scroll?
The Lion of Judah who conquered the grave
He is David’s root and the Lamb who died to ransom the slave
From every people and tribe
Every nation and tongue
He has made us a kingdom and priests to God
To reign with the Son
Is He worthy? Is He worthy?
Of all blessing and honor and glory
Is He worthy? Is He worthy?
Is He worthy of this?
He is!
Is He worthy? Is He worthy?
He is!
He is!