I was at an assisted living home the other day, preaching a short sermon and helping them sing some carols. One gentleman said, "I don't sing," when I asked him why he wasn't doing any of the carols. I hear something like that often.
That makes it all the more remarkable when I read the first chapter of Luke's gospel, the early telling of the birth of Christ, for much of it is folks bursting into song like Glee.
The angle Gabriel sings to Mary.
Mary sings to Gabriel.
Elizabeth sings to Mary.
Mary sings to Elizabeth.
Zachariah sings to everyone who will listen.
Why singing?
They were filled, too filled some would say, with joy. Happiness covered them like a fog.
"I'm bursting with God-news," Mary sang. Bursting...with ... God-news. Singing a happy song like Matt Redman, Chris Tomlin or Delirious would.
The Happy Song goes, "I could sing unending songs of how you saved my soul. I could dance a thousand miles because of your great love."
We sing not because of talent or the effort to hear ourselves, but because we are so pleased and thankful that God stepped in and saved us. "You are the strength when I am weak; you are the treasure that I seek," we sing to God. "You are my all in all."
He took our sin, our cross, our pain. Sing.
He wiped out death, gave us eternal life, walks with us each dreary day. Sing.
How could I keep from singing, Tomlin sings.
Indeed. How could I?
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