Your Majesty is Why I Sing

Tonight I was in the car, attempting to sing along to one of my favorite praise & worship songs (Love Song by Jason Morant). I say "attempting" because it really sounded pretty pathetic (okay, it plain old sucked). I love the song, but it’s in just the wrong key for me- meaning I can’t sing along with the guy because it’s a bit too low, and if I take it up an octave I can’t quite sing the higher notes. Take the song up or down a key, and I’ll bet either the lower or higher octave is right in my vocal range. So anyway, I’m driving down the road, attempting to sing this song and feeling embarrassed. This is why I don’t sing when other people are in the car; I sound ridiculous. I even sound ridiculous to myself. God is probably plugging his ears, or laughing at me, or listening to someone in another car who is actually singing decently.

Suddenly I thought of Elijah’s singing. He’s actually a pretty good singer, if he feels like singing. But you know how kids are—it doesn’t matter to them whether they hit the notes or not; they just enjoy singing. And their parents enjoy it too, no matter how flawed it is or how perfect it is. There’s nothing like hearing a little kid sing; it’s joyous, no matter how accurately they’re hitting the notes. Why? Because they’re pouring their heart into it.

And I realized, yet again, that God probably sees me the same way I see my child. He’s not sitting there laughing at my attempts or wishing I would get to the end of the song already—he listens to every note and he loves it. Why? Because it’s a song about him? No, I don’t think that’s it. I think it’s because he doesn’t care whether I’m hitting the notes or not, because what he’s looking at is my heart. And to him, hearing my flawed attempts is joyous, no matter how accurately I’m hitting the notes, because I’m pouring my heart into it.

It goes beyond singing, though. I think sometimes I get too focused on what I look like or sound like on the outside, how much I get it right or how much I mess it up on any given day, and I mistakenly think God is judging me the way I’m judging myself. How often I fail to remember that he’s looking at the inside—my attempts may be flawed, but he sees my heart and rejoices. Or I may look like I’m doing things just right on the outside, but my heart isn’t in the right place (ever heard someone sing a song perfectly but you can tell their heart isn’t in it at all?). He sees that too. I want everything I do to be from the heart; I want my life to be a love song to him.

You know all my thoughts, you see all my ways
And still you come to me.
So I sing a love song to you.
You walk on waves, you run with clouds
You paint the sky for me to see
Your majesty, your majesty is why I sing.
This is a love song to you…
My life’s a love song to you.