Divine Singing (#118 of 365+)

“When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives” (Matthew 26:30)

The Jewish people sang in synagogues and on holy feast days.
Jesus and his family probably sang a lot during his upbringing. Joni can picture Jesus singing as he walked with his disciples on the beach or sailed with them in a boat. I can picture him humming a tune while doing carpentry work in Nazareth. But the only place recorded in the bible that Jesus sang was after he broke the bread and offered the wine. It was the night he was betrayed and arrested. In Joni’s words, “Of all the times and places, the Lord Jesus chose to have us remember him singing as he was led off to his death”.

It is no coincidence that this particular devotional happened to fall on today. I’ve been battling physical pain and a heavy heart for the past couple of days. I’ve also had a couple of disappointments this week. So I don’t feel like singing, or even praying. I heard on the radio yesterday that Christian martyrs throughout the ages (not that I’m a martyr by any stretch of the imagination) have been known to sing before their executions. Some have even converted their executioners with their powerful songs. Joni mentioned that Paul and Silas prayed and sang hymns while they were in chains (Acts 16:25) and miraculous events followed.

My emotions might go up and down due to a number of environmental and physiological factors. It doesn’t really matter if I feel inclined to sing because all Jesus wants is for me to follow his lead. Joni said, “As we follow his steps up to the Mount of Olives, into the garden of Gethsemane, and down the road to Calvary, we take up our cross and sing”. I sing praise songs at church and in my car all the time, but how often do I remember the Lord is singing about his love for and delight in me? “The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing” (Zephaniah 3:17).

Lord, I’m emotionally vulnerable today. You knit me together in my mother’s womb so you understand me well and know exactly what I need. Thank you for singing over me. May my heart pick up the tune and carry it through the day. Amen.