The woman in front of me at church kept her eyes closed the whole time she sang. Her arms were lifted towards heaven, as if to say, "Pick me up, Daddy. My legs are too tired to walk anymore." I realise that for people who aren't as expressive in their worship, this could be a distraction. You might even perhaps make assumptions about her motives or beliefs. Yet...
There is often a story behind the story, isn't there? If we could suspend judgment for a moment, hold our conclusions and honestly seek to understand, we might discover new meanings and ways of looking at things that give us a fresh perspective.
"You hold my world in the palm of Your hand, and I am Yours forever..."
As it turns out, I know this woman. Her husband was brutally murdered three weeks ago. The fact that she was in church at all, let alone singing praise songs to God, touched me profoundly. I stopped singing. I couldn't sing... I was witnessing a holy moment. I felt as though I was intruding and yet I was mesmerised, held captive by such a sacrifice of praise.
"I'll walk with You, wherever You go, through tears and joy, I'll trust You, Lord..."
Even now I don't have the words to adequately describe what I observed, but in the future, when I see or hear the word "surrender" I will think of the image I saw this morning. It was poignant. It was beautiful. It was heartbreaking. It pointed to an unwavering trust in God. "Pick me up, Daddy. My legs are too tired to walk anymore. I trust You to carry me to where I need to go."
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