Tell a fish not to swim. Tell the waves not to rush the shore. Tell the trees not to change to brilliant orange after a summer of saving up. Tell the birds not to fly. But tell me not to sing... really? Really? There was something about a cyst and a time of rest and absolutely no singing.
It feels like part of me is shriviling up. I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to stand in a room and experience His presence and not sing. I don't know how to celebrate, or cry, or dance, or ride in my car, or cook dinner, or cut the grass without singing. I don't know how the song in my heart, the melody in my mind, the bridge that makes me dance and throw out my arms will radiate through my body without coming out as a song.
You are teaching me that it's not about me - or my song - and that you'll continue to be worshipped whether I ever utter another sound.
You are making it clear that life goes on without me and allows others to share what they have to offer.
You are driving home that worship is in my heart... it's not music. It's my life and how I live it.
In these days, I'm singing, I'm just not making any noise. Lord, help me to make this the most beautiful song I've ever sung - in the quiet... in the silence - may this song bless your heart.
Tara is Greg's girl, mom to two sons of thunder, a hunger fighter, big dreamer and worship pastor at seacoast church.