Through the Stillness

Uncertain whether or not I should watch, I almost turned it off. I felt like I was intruding on the last real worship service they shared. Guilt crept in seeing people who had no idea what they would endure a week later. I felt a pulling to continue. The guilt turned into something I cannot quite put into words. It became a privilege and duty, I guess is the best I can describe it. These people who I have never met are my brothers and sisters in Christ. This was them, it is me, it is us every Sunday.

Thus, I sat waiting in my car for my kids to get out of school––my eyes glued to my phone. I heard the song. My heart fluttered and I had to pause the video. My mind took me back to yesterday at church when the very same song was sang. I was standing, swaying, and softly singing. I looked down and watched my beautiful five-year-old standing, swaying, and softly singing just like me. I looked up and saw many others standing, swaying, and singing. Worship. Beautiful pure worship. I pressed play and watched First Baptist Church of Sutherland Springs standing, swaying, and singing to the same song. That very same song, because I loved watching my son earlier, was also replayed (a few times) last night as I cooked dinner. The song was 10,000 Reasons by Matt Redman. I never thought it could have an even deeper meaning to me, as it does now.

Listening and taking in the words of this song as I mourn with those who survived, I cannot help but to also close my eyes and picture those who did not survive as having joined our “cloud of witnesses”. I ask myself, what would they want us to do? I believe they would want us to keep on singing, just as this beautiful song says.

As I continue to reflect and mourn on this horrific event, I will listen to this song over and over again. I will stand, sway, and sing. Maybe I will even sing louder in an act of defiance to show Satan the darkness will not and cannot overcome. Will you join me?