Will You Sing?

It has been three weeks since the series of surgeries that have consumed and altered my life. Encompassing 26 days, three separate trips to the hospital, four surgical procedures, and yesterday, the third opportunity for a sweet homecoming. After those seemingly endless days, I do not pretend to know the man that looks at me in the mirror today. During those 26 days that man has been many things. At times, a pain-racked, scared child. At times, a rebounding patient, optimistically improving both physically and mentally. At times, a lonely soul, isolated in a hospital room, not allowed visitors due to Covid. At times, a confused mind, not understanding the purpose or reason behind any of it. And sadly, at times during those 26 days, the man that stared back at me was more than ready to confront God with some honest yet tough questions. The depths and volatility of this man I see in the mirror today, I had yet to meet in this life.

Those 26 days brought me to places I never thought I would go and forced me into situations I never thought I would need to endure. What would normally be dramatically life changing obstacles came quickly and unannounced, little time to react, and much less time to process the emotional reactions that accompanied them. The third stay in the hospital was due to high fever which drove me to my knees. The incision was infected, and I’ll never forget that afternoon at 4pm when my surgeon informed me I must go back to the hospital and expect at least another week-long stay…and over Easter weekend. My immediate response? “I’m not going.” It’s funny now to recall the awkward silence this response garnered from my surgeon. But at that moment in my mind I had instantly transported myself to that faraway river in Egypt and was neck deep in denial. I could somehow wait the fever out, right? I could just beat it? God could heal it in the next 5 minutes, yes? Basically, anything but go back to the hospital and live in the dreaded isolation and the unknown of which I now knew only too well. Of course, I had no choice and as we terminated the call, I sat on the sofa and openly wept. For the third time in three weeks, and only the third time in my life, I was back off to live in the hospital.

The second trip to the hospital was by far the most intense physical pain I have ever endured. Having your entire GI tract seize is no small matter and it’s something I hope none of you will ever need to endure. But the third trip had altogether different struggles waiting for me. They were wily, they were unexpected and folks, those are psychologically the most scarring. Technically I was only in the hospital to have the infection drained via a minor surgery and then to receive the IV antibiotics my body so badly needed. At times, it seemed rather ridiculous to be there, I felt well and now had no fever, but was forced to stay to receive the medication until the proper meds could be secured for home administration. But all that simplicity would quickly change, new and difficult struggles found me sitting idly by, waiting, unprepared.

On Saturday night, the IV in my arm failed, requiring a new IV. Not great news, getting a new IV is never fun but let’s just get it over with. Both arm’s veins were soon found to be fouled by previous IV’s and to my horror I hear that I will be receiving a new IV in my neck. What? What kind of torture chamber is this place? So, in the early morning hours of Easter Sunday from midnight to 4am, I endured the many tests preparing me to receive an IV catheter in my neck. At 4:30am on Easter Sunday, I lay in my room, two nurses surrounding me, and had an experience that took the cake…or so I thought. The very next day I learned that the home administration of the necessary antibiotics would require a central line that would run externally from my chest directly into my heart. Oh boy, I only thought the neck IV was tough.

But throughout the great emotional and psychological challenges these trips presented, God revealed something. Something about the song we all carry in our hearts. You see, no matter what you might have done with Jesus in your life, I think we all carry music in our hearts. As humans, we love music and you often hear of people singing in their cars, their showers, or even around the house as they clean and do chores. There’s just something about putting words and music together and then vocalizing them through the human vocal chords. Music just works for us. But what if that musical song carries a message about God, to God? How is our song to God carried in our hearts? For me I’ve always loved the classic hymns. They are bursting with the truth of scripture and the doctrine they present is the solidity of the one and only Gospel of Jesus Christ. Amazing Grace, How Great Thou Art, Because He Lives, Victory in Jesus, The Old Rugged Cross, There’s Power in the Blood, It is Well with my Soul. Usually throughout any given day I will find my heart and thus my mind drifting into one of these songs as I sing their truths to my Lord.

But early Easter morning as I lay restless in my hospital bed, the nurses preparing to install that 6” IV catheter in my carotid artery, I could not have felt more alone, more scared, and more confused. And as a result, I could not have been farther from that song in my heart. It was at that moment that God whispered to me, "in moments like this Dan...will you sing?"

I’ve had several soul shaking moments with God and this ranks very near the top. I’ve always said I never want to be a circumstantial Christian, that is, being so superficial that I let my current life circumstances dictate my current walk with Christ. But folks, when everything is humming right along nice and smooth in your life, face it, it’s pretty easy to claim a close walk with Christ and easily offer up that song in your heart. But what about the dark times when you feel alone and isolated from your Savior? Will you sing? What about as you walk through that shadowy valley and you temporarily lose sight of your Shepherd? Will you sing? What about the moments where you are so racked with either physical or emotional pain that you are crying out to the Lord and all you hear in response is dreaded silence? Will you sing? What about when struggles, trials, and obstacles seem to mount so quickly upon you that you become buried and in the ensuing darkness, fail to see the light? Will you sing?

I wish I could say that during this trial I have walked in monumental faith and always held a song for Jesus close in my heart. I have not. In fact, at moments, I could not have failed more miserably. At moments that song either seemed completely absent or I simply refused to offer it. You see, there are moments in our journey with Christ that only through our failures can we realize and learn the lessons Christ has for us. The lesson He taught me during those 26 days? Will you sing to Me today? No matter what the world, satan, or the opponents of Christ may throw at you, will you sing your song to Me?

As I shared this “God moment” with Margie on the phone from my hospital room on that very same lonely Easter afternoon, she suddenly got very quiet. And then she began to sing. She was sharing with me the song God had put in her heart. I love to hear Margie’s sweet voice and at that moment I realized another important lesson from God, the song we carry in our hearts can greatly affect our brothers and sisters in Christ. Her song touched my heart and in that moment, it moved my own recently lost song a little closer to my lips. As she sang to me, the words seemed to appear in the air, like a tiny little plane spelling them in the sky. Words that God had for me, being transferred directly from her heart to mine. Words of strength, words of encouragement, and most of all words of hope.

“When peace like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say It is well, with my soul,

It is well, it is well, with my soul”

No matter the trial, no matter the obstacle, no matter the pain or trauma, we have a choice. As a follower of Jesus Christ, He has installed a song in our hearts. The question is, as the bitterness, pain, and hardness of this life happens to us….will you sing?

For me, I will sing. I will fight for the song in my heart to be manifested. And at times, it will not be easy. It will be a fight to sing. But one day, I will depart this planet that is so full of trials and tribulations and I will go to be in the presence of Jesus. I will walk the streets of gold, possess a glorious new body, and be free of tears, pain, death, and sorrow. And in that glorious moment I will be able to offer my song directly to Christ as I kneel before my precious Savior. And for that reason, for that hopeful tomorrrow, today I will sing...it is well with my soul.

P.S. Praise God for the nurses, doctors, and staff that so lovingly and sacrificially cared for me those 26 days. I thank God for their calling to care, love, and heal, especially during this trying pandemic. Also, thank you my dear brothers and sisters in Christ. Your countless prayers have been truly invaluable in enabling me to endure this journey God has me on. ~ Dan