Anthems

On Sunday, July 4th, our praise band began the service with Raise a Hallelujah by Bethel Music and shared the writers’ story of singing praises “louder than the unbelief,” in the face of a family tragedy. 

To say the least, the story and song moved me. I sang, but the words wouldn’t come out, choked up with tears. I’d heard the song before, but on that day I really listened, humbled by the lyrics and their meaning. As we drove home, we talked about that kind of courage, and how we yearned for it, pretty sure we did not already possess it ourselves. 

Over the years, I’ve found many anthems to carry me along through rough and through wonderful times. Music is such a gift like that.  

In 2008, I discovered Third Day’s, (don’t you know) I’ve Always Loved You, and chose it for my father-daughter dance. 

In 2016, awaiting the birth of our second son, Thrive by Casting Crowns was on everyday in my house, inspired by "you know we were made for so much for than ordinary lives, we we made to thrive," we used the lines, “joy unspeakable, faith unsinkable, love unstoppable, anything is possible” throughout our messages regarding the adoption process to family and loved ones. 

In 2019, that same son ordered Nobody, also by Casting Crowns, on the radio, chanting along “I’m living for the world to see nobody but Jesus!”  Funny thing, he'd even request it at bedtime, saying, "hit it, Mom."  (If you've heard me sing you're laughing out loud right now.)

These songs have been like battle cries, inspiring me as I pushed forward against what feels insurmountable; they've focused me on my faith, allowing hope to course through my body. 

And that’s just what we needed on July 4th. 

“Discern work” had been on the prayer board in our bedroom for months. I’d been beating the pavement with my little frame as often as possible, begging for clarity and direction; unsure of where to go, but knowing I could not stay put. 

I told a few close friends, I’m going to need to hear the voice of God. 

Almost daily, there were struggles during and after "office hours," and the balls I’d become accustomed to juggling began to feel like they were made of lead. Guilt was piling up. 

Thankfully, my partner and I agreed, everything was on the table. We’d been reckoning with several options, and I thought I knew what I needed to do. 

Since the day I’d gotten the call about number 4, I’d known I was called to sacrifice. 

But on the 6th of July, a few dozen repeats into the Raise a Hallelujah stint, a perfect storm ensued. It was difficult in a number of ways, but my prayer was answered with beautiful clarity. 

Termination of parental rights occurred that day, too. 

Dang God, impressive timing, you are good. 

Later that night, I called my boss and told her I needed some time off. Last week I formally submitted my resignation. 

I raise a hallelujah, louder than the unbelief...

I'm gonna sing, in the middle of the storm

Louder and louder, you're gonna hear my praises roar... 

I raise a hallelujah, with everything inside of me

I raise a hallelujah, I will watch the darkness flee

I raise a hallelujah, in the middle of the mystery

I raise a hallelujah, fear you lost your hold on me!

These words didn’t make my miracle. But they did help my ears to hear, gave me those few last essential ounces of courage that I needed, and they’ve left me inspired each time I’ve run, walked or cried to them. This anthem empowered me to do what I needed to do. 

Necessary but not sufficient, of course, just like me.