Song in the Middle of the Morning

Every morning this week with most of the children gone, Hannah and I have had to scramble to keep up with everything--packing Jonathan's lunch, milking the goats, feeding and watering the animals, getting our own breakfast made, dishes done, and school started.

This morning there was even more to do with making two batches of goat cheese from all the extra goat milk, 

and forming sourdough loaves of bread from the dough I'd mixed late last night.

There were also gardens to water,

and later today there is the nightgown to start sewing that we cut out yesterday for Hannah.

But about 11 o'clock, I sat down to finish my breakfast and read my Bible. 

Today it was Psalm 34, a Psalm often read in my home growing up. 

Way back when I was 8 years old, I remember us children memorizing this Psalm and my dad not being satisfied with how we recited it until we put lots of expression into it!

No boring monotone allowed in our household!

But today as I was reading about the praise of the Lord being in our mouths, I thought about a deeper meaning than reciting a praise Psalm about the Lord with just the right expression.

I thought about how many times I was part of families or choirs that sang praises.

The praise of God was in our mouths.

Until one day.

One day I had to choose between praising God with my mouth and with the sound of music

while bowing to something God said was sin

and actually loving God more.

I could not bow.

I loved God more.

I loved God more than I loved singing about Him.

I have paid a bitter price

for what happened at that time.

This morning I could not sit in front of my Bible or the Psalm any longer. 

Instead, I walked in tears out to the porch swing.

"I wonder," I said to the Lord, "if what I did, or how I felt at that time, that I could not bow to anyone besides You, meant anything much to You?

Was it just a big mistake?

Did You understand that really it was because I loved You,

that really I was not just trying to create trouble?"

I sat crying on my porch swing, wondering,

And so this morning, when the words to an old song came into my mind on the porch swing,

I came inside to sing it with my autoharp.

Just to the Lord I sang it.

"My Jesus I love Thee, I know Thou art mine.

For Thee, all the follies of sin I resign.

My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou,

If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now."

Just to the Lord I sang it. 

Softly. 

Very softly.

No audience, no heart in the congregation touched to tears. 

Just me, my heart, and God.

And I wondered, "Did it mean anything to You, God?"

I wonder.