All I ever wanted was to sing. I didn’t want to sing in front of thousands. I simply wanted to sing about grace and hope amidst the messiness of life. I wanted to communicate love through song, to look in the eyes of those who listened and see them connect with the song.
My little-girl dreams were of singing. I never even dreamed I’d write. My love was centered on music, and specifically, lyrics. I wanted to be the one to impart words on a melody.
My grown-woman dreams morphed from singing to owning a stage. I wanted to hover above the altar and beckon women to be Beth Moore-style Christians. I did the studies…dozens of them…by Kay Arthur and Beth Moore and Priscilla Shirer and other popular, Christian-female authors. I knew the lingo. And I believed in the God they sold: the one who made miracles out of messes, who resurrected the dead, who always came through just when you thought it was too late. I wanted to sing about that God and how he’d worked wonders in my life.
Now? I’m not even sure God exists, especially not the one I believed in. I can’t reconcile in my heart a god who gives then takes away. Or a god who demands death so he can get the praise for resurrection. Or a god who drags people through messes just so he can concoct a triumphant miracle. Or a god who creates people with desires he never intends to fulfill. It’s all a little warped to me.
Before the Bible studies, before learning the Christian-woman language, before the desire to be somebody I’m not, I simply wanted to sing. I simply wanted to sing about how Jesus loves us all. I wanted to witness what took place when those words floated on a melody into people’s hearts.
These days, silence reigns. I don’t sing, and I don’t even know if Jesus loves me, much less anybody else. Maybe there’s really nothing to sing about anymore, after all.
Rebekah, what happened to the songwriting session?
It went well, and there’ll be more.
Thank you for these haunting words, Rebekah. As a pastor, it reminds me of our human propensity to create a god in our own image; a god who has to be pleased by our sacrifices or a god who is in absolute control of everything. I, too, have listened to, and read, Christian authors who appear to have a certitude about their god’s workings that elude me. Frankly, I’m often as confused, astonished and, irritated by the apparent absence–or inaction–of God. Our neat, theological systems tend not to give voice to our hurts, confusions, and anger. Such expressions tend to create anxiety among believers. Yet, and this is why I appreciate your blogs, there is a legitimate, and much needed, place for raw expressions of doubt, hurt, and alienation. We need those poets who dare to speak about life as it really is, not in some pretended way. Personally, I think this blog in particular is an evocative melody, powerfully speaking to the unresolved tension that characterizes life in the wasteland between what should, or could, be and what really is. Strangely, it speaks powerfully to me. Shalom, my sister.
This post and some of your other recent ones make my heart hurt for you. I know there’s so much pain in that place of questioning and doubting. I also know that God can take it, and that the Bible’s full of people who questioned. When I’m struggling, I always seem to end up in the Psalms. David goes through just about every possible emotion, and works through them by crying out to God. He’s such a great example to me of the ups and downs we experience in our lives, and in our faith.
I couldn’t stop thinking about your post after I read it this morning, and oddly enough, these two quotes popped up in my Twitter feed. Both seem applicable.
Don’t miss the intimacy of going through crises of faith with Him. Mark down His promises. Stretch your faith, get out there and step into them.- Beth Moore
Our faith develops out of the most difficult aspects of our existence, not the easiest. – Eugene Peterson
I’m not musically talented, but I love music and lyrics. Can’t imagine life without them. So I wonder if during this time when you don’t feel like singing, you might find peace in listening to the music of others? I know for me, it sometimes helps to return to music that meant a lot to me when I was younger, or during pivotal times in my life. I’ll be praying for you as you walk this journey.