How wonderful to sing- “Shir hashirim hadashim”- to sing God a new song, and proclaim His love and faithfulness “day unto day uttering speech; night unto night showing knowledge”. I think that if I could not sing, I would wither away and die. Truly, the “rocks themselves would cry out” if our mouths- if MY mouth -were to be bound up in silence. “What shall I render unto the Lord…” says the psalmist. If I were a chef (like My-Son-the-Chef), I would create dishes that would (hopefully) reflect a slice of heaven as they were consumed on earth; if I were like Bezaliel, when the Spirit fell upon me I would create works of art with metal and wood; like Annie Dilliard, Abraham Joshua Heschel, or C.S. Lewis- my pen would become an extension of my soul, all for the love of God. Then again, I suppose that any and all of those ways of expressing devotion are within my reach (OK, Bezaliel, NOT). Allowing God to inhabit, sanctify, and transform the profane and ordinary is what worship is all about. It involves relationship- horizontal, vertical, inward and outward. When I sing- for better or for worse- my inside is displayed on the outside for God and the world to see. It is a terribly vulnerable, yet wonderful place in time and space. It is not often that I enter the realm of transparency, but because God is love, and His acceptance of me is complete, I am able to come “just as I am” with my diamonds and dust-balls; my ‘wood, hay, and stubble’; my gold, dross-free from the Refiner’s fire. What Love is this? A Love that pursues, that does not play ‘cat-and-mouse’ with the hearts of men; a Love that empties itself only to find an Eternal Wellspring. This love- it has been said- does not fail. Tell out my soul the greatness of the Lord!