Spiritual Sundays: Sing to the Lord a New Song

When I was in the second grade, my teacher, Mrs. Bulmer, was also the choir director. I wasn’t crazy about her as a teacher, but I loved her as a music leader. It was from her that I learned so many movie songs … Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Doh a Deer, My Favorite Things, Happiness Is, as well as numerous Christmas songs. I still remember the words to all these songs and perhaps her love of movie musicals rubbed off on me.

She didn’t treat us like fragile incompetents. She had standards . When I watched my kids concerts and thought back to my own choir experiences I was astounded at the complexities that Mrs Bulmer gave us little kids. We could do it. There was no doubt. I remember her distinctly standing at the piano and playing with one hand while conducting with the other, urging us sometimes to hold the notes and other times to make our notes short and quick. Although we never sang parts - we were given different parts of songs to sing sometimes. Some groups holding on to notes or repeating a phrase while the other group singing the words of the song.

She often had us play simple instruments like bells, sticks, and triangles.

At no point do I remember thinking “this is boring” or “this is too hard.” She was demanding, but not critical. Her love for music spilled forth in a way that her regular teaching never did.

I loved choir. I loved to sing. I stayed in her choir until I moved in the 4th grade.

After I moved to a different city and lost my beloved choir director, I was in the school choir again. The school decided to perform The Huron Carol for the Christmas concert. The Huron Carol is a beautifully haunting song written in the 1600’s, telling the classic story of Christ’s birth through the indigenous people of Canada. This was back when we could still do Jesus at Christmas time in school. The little play involved an adult narrator speaking the words of the carol while kids dressed in costume acted it out. Some kids hung onto the gym ladders on the wall, acting as stars. Others were in buckskin and arrows stealthily walking along the stage as the hunter wisemen. There were no lines for anyone. Except…

Five angels who all sang the chorus “Jesus your king is born, Jesus is born. In excelsis Gloria.”

I was picked to be one of the angels. I was thrilled to be one of only five of us from the entire school, chosen to wear white and sing this beautiful chorus. Other kids could hang onto the wall playing stars, but I could sing as an angel.

As I grew older I became very shy about my voice. Perhaps it was in response to the hardships my family went through and the lack of privacy as we were all forced to live in cramped corners. Music was not part something my family did. No one played instruments. No one sang.

Added to that, at my new school, choir was after school, after the buses had left, and there was no other way for me to get home.

There are numerous ways poverty affects and limits a child.

I stopped singing.

And because I stopped singing, I lost my singing voice. When I tried singing again, it was gone. My ear was gone. My ability to stay in tune was gone. I was not good and I didn’t know how to get good because I had never learned the basics of music. I had only sang what I had heard and played simple instruments that required no skill or understanding.

I have been in and out of church choirs since then because church choirs are more interested in having participants than in having singers. I even played a singing nun in a community production of Sound of Music. But I was a nun in the chorus, my voice drowned out by other stronger voices, not one of the solo nuns. I have been limited in my love of performing theatre by not having a good singing voice. Most community theatre does musicals. I’m a fairly decent actor, but not a singer. Even my children would beg me not to sing.

I left my church and wandered to others hoping to find a home. Some churches disappointed me because instead of having the congregation singing, they would have the "music team" perform all the music. It left me empty. Where was the worship that we could all do to God through song? It felt unfinished, to go to church and not sing. Like I hadn't completely worshiped.

God doesn’t care if you can sing. Yes, God gave some people the most masterful and glorious instruments. To others he gave almost nothing in musical ability other than an appreciation of music (I have yet to meet someone who doesn’t like music). To most he gave a basic ability to make a noise that sometimes can stay in tune but not always.

But God wants everyone to sing!

In this day of covid, those churches that are holding meetings on Sunday have limited or eliminated singing for safety reasons. Apparently we spit when we sing. Singing has become a lethal weapon, and not because we can make someone’s head explode from the noise that comes from our vocal chords.

That doesn’t mean we can’t sing at home. We can gather with our families, or sit alone, and sing praises to God.

It could be part of your daily devotional. When you gather up your scriptures, and your notebook, your marking pencils, and your journal, remember your hymnbook or turn to the Psalms. Sing your praise to the Lord. Don’t worry if you are true to the tune. God doesn’t care. You’re not being graded on your ability to sing. There’s no judge rating you from 1 - 10. No audience will boo you. It may feel weird at first, sitting by yourself singing to God. But prayer feels weird at first to someone who has never prayed before. Your song, is part of your prayer.

Psalm 98

Sing to the Lord a new song,

for he has done marvelous things;

Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth,

burst into jubilant song with music;

make music to the Lord with the harp,

with the harp and the sound of singing,

with trumpets and the blast of the ram’s horn—

shout for joy before the Lord, the King.

Let the sea resound, and everything in it,

the world, and all who live in it.

Let the rivers clap their hands,