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Posted by on January 26, 2014

She loved to sing in the choir.
coffee - angel wing mug

No, I mean she LOVED to add her sweet, clear soprano to the choir.  Few things in life brought her more joy than being welcomed by her section, hugged on and told, “Sit by me!”  She just didn’t do it often – certainly not enough.

She never felt she was good enough.

Now, none of that.  I sense that several dozen of you immediately are halfway out of your seats yelling at your monitor, “Not good enough???  That’s nonsense!  Why, —- ”

Feelings are powerful things.  And they can really bind up a tender spirit raised to never let them out, to never make one’s own choices.

But I often sat beside her during worship and listened to her voice.  It was hesitant and soft – and beautiful.   I’d see the longing in her eyes as the rest of us would move up and fill up the choir loft.  I’d watch her while we sang all those great songs of worship and praise.  And even when her legs were tired and weak and she couldn’t stand for the entire set, she’d be standing up inside, singing right along with the rest of us.

Praise is an attitude.  “I will sing with my spirit, but I will also sing with my mind”  (1 Cor. 14:15).  She wanted to do more than she did.

We’ve all been there and heard the comments nobody thought were being overheard:

“Never could sing a lick.”

“You know, he really shouldn’t sing.”

“Daddy, can I come sing, too?”

“Why–can’t carry a tune in a taco shell!”

Guess what?  Singing seems to be Heaven’s default atmosphere.  The angels are doing it  (“…ten thousand times ten thousand their number, thousand after thousand after thousand in full song . . . )  And everyone else is doing it  ( “Then I heard every creature in Heaven and earth, in underworld and sea, join in, all voices in all places, singing . . . .” [ Rev. 5:11-14] ). 

So–I have good news.  All those comments now have great answers:

“Never could sing a lick.”


“You know, he really shouldn’t sing.”


“Daddy, can I come sing, too?”


“Why–can’t carry a tune in—”


In Heaven, everybody has a beautiful voice because singing’s what it’s all about.  And it doesn’t matter how many are already in the choir – because everybody joins in whenever they feel like it, which is pretty much all the time.  That’s what the Bible seems to indicate.

So–with billions upon billions already in The Choir, you need to know:  there’s always room on the risers for one more.  I can hear it now. . .

” Ay!  Everybody!  EXCUSE ME-E-E-E!!!  This is Meagan and she’s joining.  Slide over and make room!” 

This week’s challenge?  To live here in such a way that none of us miss being There.  I want to hear what her voice is like when all the ‘timid’ and ‘unsure’ and ‘You-mean-I-can-just-let-‘er-rip?’ is gone.

‘Sides, I have to admit:  I’m just a little bit jealous.

I want to end this week’s cup with something very special I asked permission to share.  Brenda received a Mother’s Day card yesterday, and when she opened it she fell apart.  Inside was a note written by someone who knew Meagan her entire life and as closely as anyone here could have besides her husband.  The note on the card was written as if it was actually our girl writing it to her mother-in-love.  When it was opened, a voice began singing, “You’re beautiful, beautiful . . . ”    Here’s what it said. . .

 “Brenda, if I were right there I’d want to thank you for all you did to help me grow from a fuzzy, vulnerable, squishy caterpillar to the beautiful, strong, spirited butterfly I was becoming.  I didn’t know how to do anything but hide in the shadows and be very small.  But then I learned I am beautiful, brilliant.  I have wings!  I am soaring!  I love you!  –Love, Megs”

And can that girl ever sing!

Loving you,




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