Monday: Psalm 67-68 & Romans 1:1-6

From Cambria Bold

If there was ever a reason to sing (and there are many), none may be as joyous and as immensely warranted as this: Christ is risen! If this isn’t cause for singing, I don’t know what is. “Sing to God, sing praises to his name!” as the psalmist tells us in today’s reading. “Lift up a song to him … his name is the Lord; exult before him!” I love this command to sing to the Lord with gladness and joy — so applicable during Easter especially — as much for what it says as what it doesn’t. There’s no “Sing to God… eh, if you have time,” or “Lift up a song to him… but only if you’re fully trained and experienced at this sort of thing.” There are no qualifications needed to sing to the Lord, no required prerequisites for opening your mouth and releasing something full-throated and uninhibited — a song, a squeak, a shout, a wail, or any other sound that comes from the deep places within you, places both too full and sometimes too empty for words. 

The psalmist doesn’t suggest we sing; he commands it. “O kingdoms of the earth, sing to God; sing praises to the Lord, to him who rides in the heavens, the ancient heavens.” If you don’t enjoy singing, you may read this and choose instead to focus on all the other ways one can praise the Lord. (Prayer, reflection, silent meditation — all good things, of course!) But we have an opportunity during Easter, when we think about the magnitude and wonder that is Christ’s resurrection and our salvation, to go above and beyond the norm, to examine our comfort zones and then, with joyful abandon, break out of them in celebration because we have been saved. “Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears us up,” the Psalm says. “God is our salvation. Our God is a God of salvation, and to God, the Lord, belong deliverances from death.” So in this season of Easter, don’t sit, but stand. Don’t stand, but dance. Don’t walk, but run. Don’t run, but jump. Don’t whisper, but talk. Don’t talk, but sing!

I’m a singer, writer, and former longtime editor for Now I spend my days taking care of our 20-month-old daughter, Harriet, who is just learning to sing with gusto.