My favourite ceanothus is alive this morning with a dozen bees. This is its peak week, its bright, deep blue flowers visible from way down the street. As I watch, I can hear the buzz of the bees, and a squabble of honeyeaters in the roses down the side of the house. Right now, there’s a steady stream of blossom falling from my neighbour’s tree, like confetti on a wedding day. Such life and promise in my garden today. Like the Psalmist says, “the hillsides blossom with joy… the meadows and the valleys sing for joy!” I’m thinking of Isaiah: “You will live in joy and peace. The mountains and hills will burst into song, and the trees of the field will clap their hands!” Spring has arrived in my garden, and, in my spirit. I’m so conscious on this spring morning of those words from Alves: “And if I should ask you to tell (to sing) your dreams of love? What images would you offer… or have you lost the memory of paradise, its desires forgotten, buried in the daily routine, mediocre and inexorable?” “To tell (to sing) your dreams of love.” – those words feel like a wake-up call. This is my day off. I’ll spend the afternoon in the bush. Set the daily routine aside, to remember paradise, to tell and to sing my dreams of love.
There’s a precious verse in Zephaniah that tells of God, in love, calming our fears, and rejoicing over us with singing. There’s another verse in one of David’s Psalms that I treasure: “God sets the lonely in families, He leads out the prisoners with singing and joyful music.” I love the idea of music accompanying freedom. I don’t know why the idea of God singing over us, or having music for an occasion should be so surprising. After all, music touches our souls so deeply. Music reminds us of people and places. Music reunites us and reconnects us. The image of the Trinity itself is like a Great Chord of three notes that “sound through each other, creating a sound that is distinctively three, yet together as one.” God calls us into the song He is already singing! Read the first two chapters of Luke: it’s no wonder that the Incarnation was heralded by Mary’s song, Zacharias’ song, Simeon’s song, Anna giving thanks, and angels praising! It’s no wonder that the early church were people of song! It was a way to be thankful, to unite in fellowship, to let the Word dwell among the people, and to join in with a God who sings!
Rilke says, “one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.” Last week was a stone for me. But today feels more like a star. It’s easy to consider paradise and sing your dreams of love on a spring day when you’re not in pain, and you have time and space to contemplate nature and beauty. But what about those stone days like last week?
I’m conscious that life may not feel like a star for everyone I know at the moment. I have friends who are going through tough times. Real mountains compared to my molehills. What do I say about this singing God to one friend in prison, another friend facing major surgery, and the others whose lives have recently been turned upside down through illness and grief?
Psalm 42 tells of tears becoming our food day and night, of turmoil and depression, and even of witnesses seeing our circumstances and questioning where God can be found in it all. But then, in verse 8, in the middle of the Psalm, we read of God’s faithful love by day, and His song by night. God who is present to the mountain tops, is also ever-present beside us in even the darkest night. His presence is felt as love and in song. It was that verse which inspired the words of a well-known hymn How Can I Keep From Singing? – “What though my joys and comforts die? I know my Savior liveth. What though the darkness gather round? Songs in the night He giveth.”
I wonder, what song was God singing over me last week? And what song is God singing over my friends right now? Songs of lament. Songs of compassion. Of understanding. Of solidarity in suffering. After all, our God is a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. A suffering God who suffers alongside us. Who does not turn His face from us. The God who promised paradise to a man on a cross, while He himself was suffering. A song in the night.
Remember paradise, and tell and sing your dreams of love, comes Alves’ challenge. And my reply on this spring day, when all creation seems alive in my garden, and I can hear its music – my reply is to return to that verse from Zephaniah 3:17:
“For the Lord your God is living among you.
He is a mighty saviour.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
With his love, he will calm all your fears.
He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.”
I know that God is alive and at work among us. I know He is a mighty saviour. I can tell of His love to me. I know that He hemmed me in last week when things were rough, surrounding me with His faithful love by day and His song by night. I will testify to His ever-faithful presence in the ups and downs of my life, bringing music and song in each season.
And I know too, that God is right now surrounding my friends who are facing difficulties, and singing His song over them. I know that my prayers for them are heard by a listening and loving God; my prayers that they would know God’s presence, and hear His promises of paradise – His songs of love – even in the midst of their Calvaries. And that they would be held, comforted, and be well.
Scripture refs. Ps 65:12-13, Is 55:12, Zeph 3:17, Ps 68:6, Lk 1:46b-55, Lk 1:68-79, Lk 2:29-32, Lk 2:38a, Lk 2:13b-14, Col 3:16, Ps 42, Is 53:3, Is 63:9, Ps 22:24, Lk 23:43, Ps 139:5.
Rubem Alves quote taken from the book, “I Believe in the Resurrection of the Body.”
Trinity reference © Union Foundation, “The Singing Trinity.” Visit uniontheology.org
Rilke quote from the poem “Sunset.”
“How Can I Keep from Singing?” is by Robert Lowry.