Singing in Thorny Places

This picture is of a wool applique piece I purchased a few years back when the more intense days of the COVID-19 pandemic were upon us. I love cardinals, and it's always a treat to see them when my travels take me east of the Mississippi. Their bright red color (at least of the males) gives you cause to notice them, and their song is cheerful as well. I also purchased this kit to help refocus my perspective and some of the frustrations and discouragement I was experiencing.

For the past two months, I've been contemplating the concept of "thorny places." My Advent devotional was built around the traditional carol, Joy to the World. Week 3 of this devotional emphasized the often overlooked third verse:

No more let sins and sorrows grow, nor thorns infest the ground;              He comes to make HIs blessings flow far as the curse is found.

Week 3 of this devotional came at a time when two families within our church were grieving the abrupt and untimely losses of loved ones. These losses were a raw reminder of the sorrows of this present world and the consequences of the thorn-infested ground on which we now reside. The devotional sessions also directed us to remembering that Jesus' blessings extent to all reaches of the thorny ground, and that we are called to be the hands and feet of Jesus in the thorny places.

This has let to my contemplation of additional thorny places. The convergence of politics, pandemic, and patriarchy over the past decade has been particularly unsettling and has resulted in my being in thorny places I never would have anticipated. It's also been a season of deeper spiritual reflection and discernment between cultural norms and traditions within what I have considered to be my faith community and the enduring truths of God's Word. I've also gained a deeper appreciation of what it means to count the cost of following Jesus. As a familiar song says:

I have decided to follow Jesus; No turning back, no turning back.

While navigating these complex, thorny places, I've subscribed to a freely available online devotional that has been a nice addition to other personal Bible studies. On the weekends, this devotional features hymns, some of which date back several centuries. In the midst of the thorny places, I've found comfort in the lyrics of many of these hymns and felt encouragement in seeing enduring truths of the gospel presented in song across time. One of these hymns is "How can I keep from singing." This hymn has an American folk tune melody to it. Its author is known only as Pauline T and was written in the 1860s.

   Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?

My own song in the thorny places, particularly those of politics, pandemic, and patriarchy in many ways relates to the basis of the work that I do. At the end of the day, the work that I have been called to do relates to advancing the health and well-being of children. I do this through the conduct of science and investing in others to implement evidence and best practices to improve the lives of children. This is how I live out the truths in one of the very earliest songs I learned:

Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world.

My song in the thorny places may not be the melody of the cardinal. Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, I will keep on singing. I will sing of God's mercies through advocacy, education, and seeking to do justice.

I will sing of the mercies of the LORD forever. Psalm 89:1