"Sing unto the Lord a new song..." Isaiah 42:10a
It is interesting that it is always a "new" song that we are asked to sing. How many possible songs are there to sing to God? Apparently, they can be new every morning.
It is wondrous to consider that there never really is a dull moment with God. True, there are moments of silence and stillness, full of the drudgery of this monotonous world. Even more true, however, is that the child of God is so penetrated by the joy of the Lord, so saturated by His Spirit in every inch of their being, that the darkness shines as the noon-day, and everything (even the drudgery) is still, so to speak, magical. No thunderclouds, no lightning, no shining crowns of glory; perhaps just a fried penny on the sidewalk, or a smile from a stranger, or a random act of kindness (or thoughtfulness) to you or from you. Anywhere, everywhere, everyday, in every way, there is always something new to sing about, always some facet of God's presence bursting through the very seams of this world, some part of His character coming through our circumstances that deserves a song, and a new one to boot.
Do not misunderstand. Let us not get hung up on the "good" things, however (most Christians park there and never leave). Days can be good or dull, but they can also be bad, and thank God that a lament is just as much a song as a psalm is (most of the Psalms are laments). The point is that we should always remembers that whether we praise or petition, there is always a reason to sing, and sing a new song.
It is to be exciting news that every song is a "new" song, wonderful to know that our life is poetry in motion and not gibberish in neutral. Our lives are bound to God, a singular being with three persons and infinite facets. There is no end to understanding the full depth of even one element of His character, i.e., there will always be a new song to sing. Old songs are sweet memories, and will not be forgotten; but there will always be new songs, new reasons and occasions to sing, fresh moments when nothing will do for us except to sing forth what we mean, even if no one else understands it except you and God.
Again, do not misunderstand (how often we do on issues like this). This "freshness" is not a care-free fluffiness. Too often we mistake genuine knuckleheaded naiveté for overabundant joy. This "freshness" is not naiveté. If anything, it is the exact opposite: it is a deep, hardy grasping of the reality of God in your life. Deadness does not come because you took a moment to stop acting "so gosh-darn happy because everything is so gosh-darn great!" Deadness occurs when you lose your grasp in the reality of God; everything in life then becomes merely "material," random, nonsensical. The penny, the smile, the kindness--it was all just coincidence; our tragedies--just bad luck. It all signifies nothing and means nothing without God. This "freshness" is not naiveté, but a vigorous existence of clear-headedness, the life of faith, a life full of life (i.e., God's life), and life more abundant. Indeed, this "freshness," this perspective of "all things new," is a hallmark of Christian character, and therefore another facet of the character of God. Deadness is not to have any part in the life of a child of God; not because you (by some willful exercise) keep yourself from deadness, but because you, as a child of God, are not dead. It is a matter of inner disposition, not desperate effort, and your inner disposition is that of the Spirit of God. He who has that Spirit is not dead, nor is deadness in him (for deadness is not in Him). The "freshness" of the child of God is produced solely by the presence of God within them; and what God has "worked in," we can "work out" into practical experience. Get into the habit of finding reasons to sing a new song.
"Forever are all things new:
Winter into Spring, no two the same.
Every sunrise and sunset
Is a new reason to sing..."
-Jon Vowell
It is interesting that it is always a "new" song that we are asked to sing. How many possible songs are there to sing to God? Apparently, they can be new every morning.
It is wondrous to consider that there never really is a dull moment with God. True, there are moments of silence and stillness, full of the drudgery of this monotonous world. Even more true, however, is that the child of God is so penetrated by the joy of the Lord, so saturated by His Spirit in every inch of their being, that the darkness shines as the noon-day, and everything (even the drudgery) is still, so to speak, magical. No thunderclouds, no lightning, no shining crowns of glory; perhaps just a fried penny on the sidewalk, or a smile from a stranger, or a random act of kindness (or thoughtfulness) to you or from you. Anywhere, everywhere, everyday, in every way, there is always something new to sing about, always some facet of God's presence bursting through the very seams of this world, some part of His character coming through our circumstances that deserves a song, and a new one to boot.
Do not misunderstand. Let us not get hung up on the "good" things, however (most Christians park there and never leave). Days can be good or dull, but they can also be bad, and thank God that a lament is just as much a song as a psalm is (most of the Psalms are laments). The point is that we should always remembers that whether we praise or petition, there is always a reason to sing, and sing a new song.
It is to be exciting news that every song is a "new" song, wonderful to know that our life is poetry in motion and not gibberish in neutral. Our lives are bound to God, a singular being with three persons and infinite facets. There is no end to understanding the full depth of even one element of His character, i.e., there will always be a new song to sing. Old songs are sweet memories, and will not be forgotten; but there will always be new songs, new reasons and occasions to sing, fresh moments when nothing will do for us except to sing forth what we mean, even if no one else understands it except you and God.
Again, do not misunderstand (how often we do on issues like this). This "freshness" is not a care-free fluffiness. Too often we mistake genuine knuckleheaded naiveté for overabundant joy. This "freshness" is not naiveté. If anything, it is the exact opposite: it is a deep, hardy grasping of the reality of God in your life. Deadness does not come because you took a moment to stop acting "so gosh-darn happy because everything is so gosh-darn great!" Deadness occurs when you lose your grasp in the reality of God; everything in life then becomes merely "material," random, nonsensical. The penny, the smile, the kindness--it was all just coincidence; our tragedies--just bad luck. It all signifies nothing and means nothing without God. This "freshness" is not naiveté, but a vigorous existence of clear-headedness, the life of faith, a life full of life (i.e., God's life), and life more abundant. Indeed, this "freshness," this perspective of "all things new," is a hallmark of Christian character, and therefore another facet of the character of God. Deadness is not to have any part in the life of a child of God; not because you (by some willful exercise) keep yourself from deadness, but because you, as a child of God, are not dead. It is a matter of inner disposition, not desperate effort, and your inner disposition is that of the Spirit of God. He who has that Spirit is not dead, nor is deadness in him (for deadness is not in Him). The "freshness" of the child of God is produced solely by the presence of God within them; and what God has "worked in," we can "work out" into practical experience. Get into the habit of finding reasons to sing a new song.
"Forever are all things new:
Winter into Spring, no two the same.
Every sunrise and sunset
Is a new reason to sing..."
-Jon Vowell
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