Confession: I haven’t been doing enough singing.
I loved singing today—old Sam Cooke songs like Chain Gang and Mariah, gospel songs like Is There Anybody Here That Love My Jesus? and silly songs with my kids, like Haggalena-Paggalena and Polly Wolly Doodle.
Singing is a shortcut to joy.
Just inside my lips I carry music, always, into every situation.
Why don’t I let it out more?
I call singing one of my human birth rights, along with words and laughter. God gave it, for His pleasure and mine; Satan would like to silence it one way or another.
Today was an energetic day, but I don’t think music has to be all joy and This Day Rocks either. We can sing our lamentation too, although I must say I have yet to find a song that expresses what I feel most mornings: My Life is a Piece of Crap and I Can’t Wait Until It’s Time to Go to Bed.
At least not in so many words; there are a lot of country songs and Negro spirituals that come close.
Do you sing?