songbirds and sunshine

I hold a mug between my hands, watching the steam. The sun has not yet risen. She catches my eye as they often do here, that one tiny bird hidden among the tree leaves. They are far and few between in this country, those little song-singers. All to herself, she tweets and whistles. I wonder how long she's sat there, how long it's been since she started.

"Hush," I think. "It's too dark. Too early. There is no light yet." I take in the dark around me. "Hush. Now's not the time for singing…" And at barely 6 in the morning, I learn a great lesson from a songbird who is smaller than the size of my hands.

I often wait for the sun before I start to sing.

I worship Him, not because of where I stand or what He has done or how close I feel to Him. I worship Him for Who He is. Worthy. Many things will change, but that never will.

Sing in the light of the sun if that is where He has you. Let His goodness penetrate your skin and fall across your face. Take it all in. Let your words ring loud and your heart be overcome, knowing He delights in the sound of your voice. 

But if you find yourself in the dark, waiting for the sun, then sing there too. He will let your melody be sad, filled with minor tones and keys more black than white. And if your voice cracks, that's okay too. Sing. Sun or no sun. And watch as (though the circumstances change not) your worship sets the world right again.

Sing, love. And know the dark will not last. As surely as the sun will rise, He will come.