I waited patiently for the Lord;
And He reached down to me and heard my cry.
He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the mud;
And He set my feet on a rock, making my footsteps firm.
He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God;
Many will see and fear
And will trust in the Lord.

Psalm 40:1-3 (NASB)

I have two favorite memories of my dad singing. Make that three.

The memory indelibly written on my heart is of him at the piano in our living room. It’s the soundtrack of my childhood. Sometimes he just played, other times he sang, and often I sang with him. Precious memories, how they linger.

Another memory is singing next to him in church. This was infrequent because he mostly led the music or sang in the choir. But occasionally, we visited another church, and I stood next to him, sharing a hymnal. One time, I shushed him.

“Daddy, you’re too loud. I can’t hear the director.”

He whispered that a good director led without being heard, and kept on singing. I wasn’t sure he really believed that because I could always hear his voice when he directed. But I digress.

A third memory is of my dad singing in the car. He was one of those dads who made up songs about what he saw along the way. Everything. “Down that road is a little white house, it’s standing all alone. I’d like to see that little white house, but I’ve got to keep moving along.”

I’m more like him than I sometimes admit. I sing a lot. I sing loud. And I make up songs as I go. I like to think my granddaughter, at least, thinks it’s fun. But even she shushes me sometimes.

Learning a New Song

I love the old hymns. The words and harmonies are ingrained in my memory, and they remind me of growing up in the church.

But I love the newer songs, too. There’s seldom a Sunday that I don’t grab my phone to find at least one of the songs we’ve sung on Spotify so I can like it or add it to a playlist.

God remains the same, but these artists wrap their words and melodies around Him and His ways in new songs that never cease to stir me. Have you noticed how gifted some of them are at making the notes say the same things as the words? Whew. It’s good stuff.

By the way, the two new-to-me songs I looked up this Sunday were Undivided, by Hayden Browning and Gratitude by Brandon Lake. Check them out if you haven’t already heard them.

A New Song in My Mouth

As awesome as those songs are, being moved by music written by someone else is different from the new song God promises to put in my mouth. It’s good, but it’s not the same as praising God for what I see firsthand as I travel the road.

My new song is a direct response to what God does in my life. I know the pit He rescued me from. I have vivid memories of the miry clay that held my feet. Sometimes I sing, and at the same time, I track in some of that clay on the carpet. It’s that fresh.

I don’t want to get stuck singing the same old songs all the time. The oldies are worth pulling out as a reminder of how far He’s brought me, but I want to sing about what He’s doing now, in 2023, today. He’s at work. And it’s worth singing about

When I sing of Him lifting me, I sing with gusto and no embarrassed little girl can shush me—not even the one inside my head.

Sing in the Face of Fear

Do you see what else the psalmist says about this new song? Many will see, fear, and trust in the Lord. Hopefully, this isn’t because our singing is so bad—but it’s okay if it is.

When you and I wake up with a new song on our lips, it is heard.

I don’t think they do it in modern warfare, but back in the day, soldiers sang a cadence as they marched to war. It lifted their spirits, it set a rhythm to keep them in step when they grew weary, and it struck fear into their enemies.

Your song does the same thing. It reminds you of what God has done and strengthens your faith. When your voices join those of others, you move together in rhythm, and you’re encouraged. Your enemy, the devil, is allergic to your praise, and he pulls back.

Someone, down in their own pit, may catch a note or two of your song. They may be covered in mud, and longing to trust. Then they hear a song about a God who is faithful and trustworthy. They hear a song about someone else who was in a pit—and got out. And maybe they start believing there might be someone to pull them out, too.

Come Alongside

Don’t be surprised if you drive up next to Amazing Grace, the RV, someday and catch me singing. Don’t be embarrassed for me and look away—honk at me, point and laugh. Then let’s roll down our windows and sing together.

As you welcome 2023, take a minute to remember your pit. Remember your mud and your miry clay. And sing praise to the one who lifted you out of it.

If you’re still in that pit, and not feeling hopeful, cry out to Jesus anyway. That’s a song, too. I’ve sung it plenty of times. He’s ready to rescue. He’s ready to plant your feet on firm ground. He’s ready to put a new song in your heart.

And I’m ready to pray. Shoot me a direct message or comment.

Let us all know in the comments what your new song is about. We’d love to sing with you!

Traveling in Grace,

Christi