Day Fourteen - I Wanna Sing So Big

Oh man. Today was great. Today I crafted (Homemade Kindle Case) and decorated my Hobbit sized apartment. It goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway: There is glitter. Lots of glitter. And sparkly lights. It's beautiful, and of the lovely silent season variety. Lights and glitter sooth my soul. I was more relaxed while putting up my tree and listening to Christmas carols than I am after a spoonful of codeine cough medicine. And it was during this delicious lull, that the words of the carol starting soaking in. 

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy, "Do you hear what I hear? Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy, do you hear what I hear? A song, a song high above the trees with a voice as big as the sea, with a voice as big as the sea." 

And without warning, my soul responded, and enthusiastically. I wanna sing so big, it said. I want to join in the chorus of glory that is being sung and that will be sung for all time. I don't want to merely hum along, I want to sing with a voice as big as the sea. I want my voice, my life, to resonate with this song. The song of God's glory. A voice as big as the sea. Alone, I know I am not capable of doing that. My voice is so small, my life a little speck, but with God, even my tiny little voice can sing as big as the sea. 

When I was little, like second grade little, I didn't care what my voice sounded like. I just sang as loud as I pleased. Which was very loud. Sometimes I didn't remember the words. That didn't stop me. Sometimes, I had no idea what the melody was. That didn't stop me either. I just loved to belt it out. Sometime when I was growing up, I lost that. Not only did I stop singing if I didn't know the words or the music, but my voice got quiet. I didn't even like the sound of it. And then, sometime in the last year or so, I stopped caring and started singing again. I warn everyone when they get into my car, "I can't sing well, but that doesn't stop me. If a song I like comes on, regardless of whether or not I can hit those notes, I'm going to belt it as loud as my little diaphragm can." And, oddly enough, I've yet to have a single person seem to mind. Because after a few songs of me rocking out with reckless abandon, they feel comfortable enough to join me. Especially if I forget a word and just keep going anyway.  And suddenly, we're all belting out the songs at the top of our lungs, and it doesn't sound bad, not bad at all, because when you sing with reckless abandon, the soul comes through, and unless your thing is death metal, the soul sounds pretty darn good. And when my eyes are closed (not when I'm driving, but when I'm belting in a perfectly safe location) and I'm not thinking about how I sound, or how the lady next to me sounds, but thinking only of the words and my Audience of One, then my voice is as big as the sea. 

My voice, my little voice, as big as a shining, golden sea. My voice, my little voice, resounding through my life and your life and this world and this time, joined with voices throughout history, and into eternity, singing the same song. I was made to, you see. He made my little voice to sing as big as the sea. And I'm going to. I'm going to close my eyes and sing, and when I open them, I hope to see His face. 

Do you see what I see? Do you see a world that is desperate for beauty and life and wonder and love and forgiveness? Do you hear what I hear? Do you hear the cry of the many, the cry of souls who know that there has to be more? Do you know what I know? Do you know the joy of knowing God, of being forgiven, of His joy, of His peace, of His love? If you do, will you sing with me? If you don't, will you let me tell you?