I broke my fast from music last night. And I don’t yet feel guilty about it. I was not replacing God in any way. In fact I invited Him to listen with me.
I was sitting in my car in a driveway that was not my own last night after a highly emotional day. I was filled with anger and sadness, both at God and humanity. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t drive home as much as I knew I needed to. So I turned on my iPod and pushed shuffle. I ask Jesus to join me. The song that began to play is called Fooling Myself by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. I sat in shock that this was the song that “randomly” played. I have a history with this song, mainly with the lyrics, and have been deeply affected every time I’ve heard it. Last night was no exception.
You see, I’ve only ever listened to this particular song alone. I believe it was written as a ballad, a story of love and pain colliding. I’ve envisioned it being a love song of sorts, but the messy kind of love. Real love. The kind of love you have to fight for especially in hard times. I’ve intentionally only listened to this song alone because I wondered what it would be like to one day listen to this song with a man. To be held, slow dancing to the melody, listening together to the raw words of both the hope of love and the fear of pain. Sharing in the dance of life, a mix of pain and joy. That moment when you chose to be completely vulnerable and how scary it can be. But I’ve yet to meet a man I’ve wanted to share that experience with. Or this song with.
So there I sat in the car, a heavy rain hitting the windows as I listened to the song again. But this time I wasn’t alone. And no man was with me. But Jesus was. My Savior sat beside me and comforted me in a new way as the tears streamed down my face and I realized that He and I were experiencing music in such a healing and hopeful way…together. I rested in the music but more importantly I rested in the loving arms of Jesus. The song ended, I turned off my iPod, started up the car and drove home. Jesus never left my side.
I’m no longer “fooling myself.” I’m aware of His presence in the midst of my fear and I invite Him to join me in spaces of joy and sorrow.
“and maybe I feel like a piece of my soul is hanging around for everyone to hold”