You know who you are,

Strumming a guitar on a Friday morning can feel freeing. The combination of lyrics and tunes can give mere words a power they can’t possess otherwise. It’s like amplifying your truth, and speaking it to the person who needs to hear it, even when you’re alone in an empty room.  I love ballads for this reason. True, there’s something satisfying about weaving through a song to find it’s hidden meaning, but nothing rings truer than laying out the words you’ve been wanting to say, and simply saying them. 

I don’t remember when it bit me -that little bug we call music- but it bit me nonetheless. Maybe it was when I was young: my dad strumming away at his own guitar on a Saturday morning. Maybe it was when the volume was turned up loud, and my sister and I would run around the coffee table- our version of dancing back then- giggling and singing along to all the 90s country songs we grew up alongside. Maybe it was when, in 4th grade, the school pianist- Claire VG Thomas- complimented my “angelic voice” as she let the music fade away at the end of a song. I don’t remember ever feeling any other way.

To those people who don’t possess the same love of music we do, it’s hard to understand why we spend so much love on an art. Why, after all these years, we still always find our way back to it’s grasp. That glimmer we get in our eyes, and the feeling that reaches down to our core when we play, or sing, or even hear, that perfectly blended melody, is something we can’t even begin to describe to someone who doesn’t see music in the same way we do. Music is an experience, personal to every individual in a different way. 

David danced. In the act of praising God, and worshipping the heavenly father, some will fall to their knees and cry out to Yahweh. Some will raise their voice, and lift their hands. Some will humbly come before Him alone, to say thank you. But David had his own way to give thanks to God. When he couldn’t find the words to express just how wonderful, how marvelous, his heavenly father was, David danced. 

And David danced before the Lord with all his might…so David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting and with the sound of the horn.”  (2 Samuel 6:14-15)

David, although flawed and unapologetically human, was a man after God’s own heart. And that man DANCED before the Lord. 

Worshipping on a Sunday morning in church can feel stiff- should you stand there and sing softly, or raise your hands up in the air like that lady in the next aisle over? You can feel uncomfortably judged either way- maybe the people around you are finding your display too showy, or maybe they think you don’t care enough. But if you focus on singing the lyrics to the creator, and not to the created, you may be pleasantly surprised at how wonderful it feels to sing out to God. 

It’s in my living room, seated on my couch, that I feel my music most connect to God. When there’s no one you’re looking to please or impress, and it’s just you and the music and Him- that’s when you can truly feel the power a song can have behind it. In my opinion, singing on your own is one of the greater things in life. I love the feeling of raw, unfiltered, unapologetic music, stripped of any autotuned, staged, or confined sound. Just music, the way it should be.

So to all you lovers of song. To all you beaters of an actual drum. To all those who dance with everything they have. And to all you who, passionately, do music…

Keep it up. Hold onto that feeling, and do something good with it.

With appreciation,



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