I grew up in a traditional church whose pews were stuffed with red hymnals that had the best old book smell. I loved singing the songs that filled those pages because they were packed with scripture and hope. They helped me tuck truth in my heart. Hymns taught me to appreciate tradition and explore how specific verses spoke to me. There are lots of references in the Bible to keeping God’s word in your heart or on your tongue.
Hymns were a way to express praise and adoration for my Savior. They changed my words, and in turn, my eyes from myself to Him.
In Wednesday’s post, I’ll write more about the power of scripture and praise, but today’s post is about my story. I have had many wonderful experiences with praise (hymns, and of course, modern songs) changing my heart, mind, and feelings for the better. This post is a more difficult story. I have previously posted it on my personal social media, but I thought this was an important place to share it.
The day I felt that I had become nothing.
I made a plan. I would drive as fast as I could into a tree. I had even picked the one. No other people involved. Looks like an accident. No fingers pointed. No note necessary. Everyone could move on without wondering whose fault it was. Could they have done more.
I would just be gone.
I felt hopeless and trapped, without options. Not only did my situation feel impossible to change, I had been made to feel like nothing.
Worthless.
I believed I wasn’t a person anymore, so why continue living. He had taken every ounce of whom I was. I barely had the energy to skim by.
I couldn’t survive.
It was a chilly day when I went out to my car. The sun was shining. Its rays fell on my face. I closed my eyes to soak them in. I thanked God that He gave me sweet sunshine for the last time.
A lovely day to end it all.
Suddenly, my mind was flooded with hymns that I had sung for many years. They flowed out of my mouth, almost without my doing. I sat for hours, absorbing the warmth and proclaiming scripture, promise, and most importantly, God’s character.
I gave praise.
My resurrection began that day. I realized that I was still someone in the eyes of Jesus. I wasn’t fully sure whom, but I knew that if He conquered the grave for me once, He would do it again. I could have life again. Maybe even life abundant.
Of course, I attribute the miracle of my heart still beating fully to Jesus, but I am so thankful for worship music. The science behind music affecting your brain is pretty astounding. Singing praise provides me the words to pray when I have none. Many lyrics have imprinted His truth on my heart. The more I sing, the more my eyes shift. I’m grateful that what I had solidified in my soul took over.
For many years, I had sung out of thanks. On that day, I sang out of brokenness, but it turned to life.
While a ray of hope shined on me that day, for many it does not. I weep for those whose mental health has outweighed them. For the women and men who are emotionally, mentally, spiritually, physically, or sexually abused to a place of feeling like nothing. My prayers run deep for miraculous healing for those who are in their battle and for the many more who will take up their fight.
If you are struggling – you can find hope. Don’t let go. Light is coming. Go see a counselor. Meet a friend. Sit with a family member. Call a hotline. The fight is worth it. The sun will shine again.
The darkness of night only lasts until the morning.
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