O, sing to the Lord a new song,
for he has done marvelous things!
Hamsters alive at night
One of my favorite things about working with kids is hearing them sing.
I remember earlier this school year when two first grade girls invited me to join in their game. They had created it themselves; it involved drawing some specific shape with chalk while singing a repeating chorus: “Hamsters alive at niiiight, hamsters alive at niiiight.”
Leaving aside the fairly creepy/ominous refrain, it was a pretty cute game.
This week at school the kids learned a song called “Don’t laugh at me,” which warned about the dangers of bullying and encouraged respect and diversity. It was sweet and moving to watch them all join in.
It also needs to be mentioned that if you take kids anywhere on any kind of public transportation, they will choose that moment to rehearse all the songs in their cute little repertoires as loudly as they can. Be warned.
Re-discovering our wild side
I love the Psalm for this coming Sunday’s lectionary because all of creation joins in the song: the sea roars, the floods clap their hands, the hills sing. It’s a raucous picture of worship, all noise and vibrancy, a celebration of praise.
Revisiting this Psalm got me thinking: When God does marvelous things in my life, am I giving God that kind of joyous, raucous praise? Am I bursting into spontaneous song that is so infectious that even the trees, the grasses, the stones must join in?
I feel so grateful to the children in my life for reminding me of the beauty of uninhibited, creative song. And I feel committed to doing the same.
Like David, dancing scantily clad before God with all his might; like Miriam, leading the Hebrew women in spontaneous praise after the Exodus; like Hannah, offering her own beautiful poetry of exalting praise — may we let go of our quiet worship and replace it with wild worship.
God has done marvelous things, indeed!
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