How Can We Keep from Singing?

Our song is not one of naive and cheap optimism, but one that springs from a secure hope in a God who bears our pain and shares our joy. It is a song with the cross and the resurrection in view. And from that place of hope, we offer our lives as a song of love and praise to God.

THE FEAST OF THE PRESENTATION OF OUR LORD
February 2, 2018
Chapel of the Apostles
Sewanee, Tennessee

Readings: Psalms 42-43, I Samuel 2.1-10, John 8.31-36

A video of the sermon can be found here.

Today Hannah sings a song of triumph and confidence in the power and love of God, a song of reversal of the status quo, a song of justice and mercy. But let’s rewind the story a little. Hannah’s deepest desire is to have a son. She prays for a son. She travails before God. She weeps bitterly, and she vows that if God would give her a son, she will set him apart as a nazirite before God. God hears her, and she gives birth to Samuel. Once Samuel is weaned, she takes him to the priest Eli. And then she sings. Her heart breaks out into doxology, it overflows with praise to God.

When God shows up, when God breaks into our everyday lives, when the glory of God makes the world shine, how can we keep from singing? How can our hearts not overflow with praise? How can our thankfulness not spill out into melody?

But the temptation here is to embrace a sort of prosperity gospel, where praise is abundant when things are great, but a desert when our lives seem to have more valleys than mountaintops. And yet sometimes, like Hannah, we have to weep bitterly before God. We need to bear our hearts to the One who always hears, who already knows.

This is doxology, too. This is praise, too. This is part of Hannah’s Song. Hannah’s weeping and crying out to God is in the confidence that God hears, that God knows, that God understands. Her words today are an affirmation of this: God does indeed hear, especially those of low estate, those who weep bitterly, those who cry out, those who fear the worst. God is there. The glory of God shines there, too.

Wherever we are in our lives, whether in a moment of blessing, or a place of grief, fear, or pain, God is there. And we sing our song. Our song is not one of naive and cheap optimism, but one that springs from a secure hope in a God who bears our pain and shares our joy. It is a song with the cross and the resurrection in view. And from that place of hope, we offer our lives as a song of love and praise to God. You are God; we praise you. You are the Lord; we acclaim you.

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Author: Mark Nabors

The Rev. Mark Nabors is a priest in the Episcopal Church in Arkansas and has the privilege of serving the good people of St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Hot Springs. He enjoys reading, gardening, and sailing. He is married to Molly, and together they have two dogs, Pete and Fancy, and a cat, Gunther.

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