Do You Have Joy in Winter?

This morning I heard new songs at the Riverwalk. Not the stalwart red-winged blackbird that faithfully sings through the winter, but a new lilting refrain, fresh and clear.

The river sang a different tune as well, popping and creaking at its ice-rimmed edges.

In chorus, they sounded jubilant.

“Sing to the Lord, all the earth,” the psalmist wrote.

He continues: “Let the field be joyful and all that is in it. Then all the trees of the woods will rejoice before the Lord, for He is coming” (Psalm 96:1, 12-13 NKJV).

Even in winter’s frigid grasp, creation sings the Lord’s praises. There is a lesson for me here. In tight frozen places or from yet unfruitful, dormant endeavors, I can praise Him. By simply acknowledging His faithfulness, I loosen the ice and stretch my limbs and find again that His joy is my strength.

May you find the same during these crispy winter days.

Do not sorrow, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.

                                            –Nehemiah 8:10

Sing to the Lord all the earth!

“Sing to the Lord, all the earth.” So said the shepherd boy who became king.

But does the earth have a voice other than the sigh of a breeze, a river’s whisper, or the crunch of new snow on the path? Does it sing as it warms to the dawn and birds twitter in the light?

I see the earth’s voice in the changing leaves of a Rocky Mountain fall. Yes, see. Not only can I hear the earth praising its Creator, I see it in the blaze of yellow trees once green, in a cerulean sky, and the brilliance of a billion stars on the darkest night. Even the heavens declare his glory.

A song by Mercy Me invites us: “And all of creation sing with me now / lift up your voice and lay your burden down.”*

That’s an amazing exchange, to lift one thing and lay down another. After all, my burdens are so heavy, I can hardly carry them at all, much less lift them up. Maybe I’m not meant to. Maybe I am supposed to drop them and simply raise my hands.

The earth praises God all around us in the manner, and with the purpose for which it was created. We, the crowning jewel of God’s creativity, choose to praise him.

Will we?


*“All of Creation” from The Generous Mr. Lovewell
1 Chronicles 16:23 NIV

Peace Like a River

Thanks to my guest blogger last week, you know where I spend most mornings: trotting down the trail along the Arkansas River near our home.

The river is a seasonal host, rushing past in summer, swollen with snow melt and churning red or brown. But now it has laid itself down for autumn and whispers by, laughing only in the rocky shallows or at the bulwark of the bridges.

"We made it,” the waters declare. “We made it over the rocks. They didn't stop us. Praise the Lord!"

If I could truly decipher the voice of nature, would I hear it speak in such a way that praises its creator? What a beautiful declaration—one to which I should add my own voice. But that’s not what usually happens when I’m dashed against a boulder blocking my way.

If you doubt that nature praises Him, read Psalm 148. You can almost hear the water singing.

Maybe that’s the secret to the peace I find at the river—praising God in all things.

Even when I’m pressed against the rocks.

Who's at the end of your rope?

Praise is the rope by which
the Lord lifts me from the
dark pit.

His hands grip one end,
strong to pull me up
as I cling to the other.
His face grows closer
as I rise
and I see his smile.

Clean me off, Lord.
Set me on a sure and solid place.
Show me which way to go.

And Lord,
may I sing for you
this new song in my heart?


Psalm 40:1-3

Spiritual Backbone

When I last visited the chiropractor, he demonstrated for me the reason many people suffer back pain and stiffness. It’s all about posture.

I thought I knew what he was going to say, because I’ve heard it since I was a kid: “Sit up straight.”

But the chiropractor surprised me with a more vivid application. Sitting on the edge of a chair, he curled into himself, drooped his arms and shoulders forward, hunched his back, and dropped his head.

“This is how people sit,” he said. “And this is how they should sit.”

With that, he raised his head, extended his back and lifted both arms as if opening himself up to the world. It was the perfect position of praise.

Even in the physical world, we see a picture of a healthier spiritual posture: open, looking upward, arms wide to receive the blessings of God.

This little display made me wonder how my spirit looks to the Mender of my soul. Am I turned in upon myself, or am I open, looking upward, and praising him for all he’s done?

Perhaps a little more praise and gratitude will improve my gaze and attitude, and give me the strong spiritual backbone that I need.