Can I Contain Myself?
He made a comment as I was gently adjusting my gray, ribbed dress to cover as much of my legs as possible in an attempt to warm them up on Sunday morning. My son was sharing that he was a little embarrassed at my singing that morning. Apparently, from his perspective, I had gotten a bit carried away during the Easter worship. “It has been quite a week,” I thought to myself. Yet, a mother can’t take criticism from a teenager too seriously, especially related to being embarrassed since even the smallest faux pas can get a teenager all bend out of shape without the slightest effort. Regardless, I took some time, brief to most, to consider his thought process - and my own.
My son was embarassed.
In the same way my son could never imagine how I could forget what I looked like when I was in public, how could I expect him to understand why I get lost in God’s thoughtfulness and goodness? He was so used to seeing God at work around us, my son acts like it's normal to have meaningful symbols of God’s faithfulness strewn about one’s house. (And how could I hold it against him? It’s everything I dream my child would take for granted. Another reason I worship so candidly.)
God has brought me through so many things over the years that each moment I set aside to connect with him - personally or communally - feels equally meaningful. This day being Easter was irrelevant to the depth of my focus, but only worth contemplating because it being a holiday is why we were sitting in folding chairs in the corner of the church lobby around a TV with a couple dozen other families. The whole sanctuary was full to the brim with families, guests, and those who seasonally attend. While it’s a delight to find the seats filled, this detail probably led to my singing normally being such an uncomfortable moment for the adjacent teenagers.
He’s not wrong to be weirded out.
While the band plays, his 40 year-old-mom forgets where she is and who’s around her. She rarely even looks at the musicians leading the songs. His mom gets swept into awareness of what the words mean and who she is singing them for. From a middle schooler’s perspective, it was very uncool. Perhaps the lobby brought more attention to my singing that which is typically less noticeable inside the sanctuary when we are surrounded on all sides by others participating.
From a 14 year old boy’s perspective, our lives have been harder lately. He doesn’t always get to see the full story. However, my point of view is also valid to consider.
What he didn’t know:
My son didn’t understand the weight of the word “negative” the nurse had given me two days before. With incredible gratitude, I am comforted that he simply knows I need no further tests. This is one of the reasons I sing.
He was also unaware of how meaningful it was for us to not only be able to attend his grandmother’s funeral months ago, but even more the privilege it was for me to be invited to come take care of her in her last weeks of life. It may be easier to see the loss and the pain, but there is so much more. Those moments were not wasted on me, therefore I respond with worship in the sanctuary, my car, our home, or yes, even the lobby on Easter morning.
When he hears his brother screaming at me on the phone, he cannot comprehend the gratitude I have that his brother still calls me at all. He doesn’t understand that I am singing because of the yelling.
As he has lived through both of his sister’s need increasing support, services, and time with me, I have been aware of God’s hand in each diagnosis, provider, and situation.
He may not be able to fathom the depth of my gratitude, but he lives among the pain and also sees how God brings just what we need and even things we don’t need.
His belly has been full, despite his slender appearance, from meals bought and made from over a dozen of our friends. He has benefitted from the time our friends have come alongside us, his parents, to pray, council, and support us during this season. Without fail, he has opened each gift a friend has sent, including the stained glass lighthouse he loves to see fill the kitchen with warm colors. For these reasons, I sing.
But that’s kinda the whole point, isn’t it? He gets to live in a world where his mom sings too loud at church - even when the world is caving in. What a joy that he missed my sweet friend’s tears and their deep meaning as she hugged me between my singing and our conversation on the ride home. She was one of many who knew more of the pain I had been experiencing, the reason for my grief and my gratitude.
I decided I didn’t need him to understand why I sing that way.
Before we’d even left the parking spot, my husbands’ eyes shifted to me out of curiosity at how I would explain my heart after hearing my son’s complaint.
I simply answered, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but I wasn’t singing for you. Next time I’m afraid I may sing louder.” My husband stifled his laughter.
By the time we finished our warm ham sandwiches, cheesy cornflake potatoes, and green beans for lunch, Ben and I went into great detail as to why we celebrate Easter. As a family we discussed how God had shaped our entire lives, provided a Savior for us, and how without His love, we would have no idea how to love.
Without intending, we had all the explanation he needed. I sing for all of these reasons. I sing because our God has shaped me, saved me, and shown me how to love. How can I contain myself? I can’t imagine a better, less embarrassing way.
“But we continue to preach because we have the same kind of faith the psalmist had when he said, “I believed in God, so I spoke.” We know that God, who raised the Lord Jesus, will also raise us with Jesus and present us to himself together with you. All of this is for your benefit. And as God’s grace reaches more and more people, there will be great thanksgiving, and God will receive more and more glory.
That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.”
2 Corinthians 4:13-18
These verses from 2 Corinthians 4, which one of our pastors spoke about yesterday, reminded me to not be hesitant to share of this great work God is doing in my life.
May you look to what is intangible, unexplainable, but so real as you navigate a daily relationship with God. As you are filled with courage to loudly speak out - with your entire lives - what God has done and continues to do in your life, may our God strengthen you and uphold you to persevere.
