In Hold Her Close, at Rose’s lowest, when her heart shattered and her throat was too clogged with tears to pray, she turned to a prayer she’d learned as a child.
The words of praise didn’t come easy for Rose that day, nor do they for many of us in those moments.
When the prayers aren’t answered. Or are answered in a way we didn’t ask for.
When the diagnosis is tough.
When healing doesn’t come.
When bad happens, or relationships break down, or we are wrongfully accused.
When darkness is overwhelming, the valley deep, and the shadow of death closer than we can bear.
When hope splinters, and all that’s left is wondering. If God is still there. If He truly cares. If we were right to trust, or are the fools the unbelieving around us think. If maybe, maybe, they’re right.
I’m there again today, my heart breaking for a friend dealing with more than anyone should have to. I want to be angry. I am angry. Life is so unfair. So broken. The last thing I feel like doing is praising God for it. I want to lash out, or walk away, or question God. Wonder what on earth He’s thinking.
But praise? When hope is crushed and I’m angry and wondering if I’ll ever smile again? Not my first response.
And yet, that’s when we need praise most. When our hearts need that reminder that God is still good. Still close. Still cares. The He is still in control, even when our world seems well out of it.
It’s hard. I get it. I’ve been there. Many times. And likely will many more times. When the day is long and everything has gone wrong and I’m just so tired. When I’ve been fine dealing with a dull pain for days, only for a tiny papercut to be my undoing. When a news story breaks my heart. Or my kids are anxious over something and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. When I’ve been praying for something for decades, and instead of seeing hope, the answer seems further away than ever. When death comes out of nowhere and shakes my world.
I don’t want to praise. I want to be mad. Let the anger, the hopelessness, the frustration grow.
Instead, I turn on music. Worship music. Playlists I have just for those moments. Full of hymns, mostly. Ones that proclaim God’s name and who He is. Ones that talk about His faithfulness. Other songs too—ones that remind me why I’m fighting.
I stick my headphones on, tune out the world, and turn on praise music because I know I need it. It’s an act of defiance and obedience as much as it is self-preservation.
Sometimes, it’s a while before I can sing along. I’m too angry. Too heartbroken. Too broken altogether. But slowly, as I let it play, the words start sinking in. My faith starts remembering. That God is bigger. God sees more. God keeps His promises. And He is with me. In the frustration. The heartbreak. The pain. He knows them well. Better than I ever could.
Most of all, He is still God. Still faithful. Still, always, worthy of my praise.
Does the situation change? No. But my heart does.
I wrote this ‘hymn’ for Rose, because I needed the words too. They’re in my head now. In my heart. The reminder to praise the Almighty, no matter what. That He not only stands with us in the valleys, but owns them, and leads us through.
Sometimes praise comes with smiles that can’t be quenched and joyous delight so great we can’t help but sing at the top of our lungs. Other times, it comes with the gritting of teeth, and a lot more effort. I don’t think the latter is any less worthy. In fact, I wonder if God appreciates it more.
Today, whether you’re in the valley or storm of frustration, dancing on mountaintops, or walking the slow and steady path set before you, I encourage you to praise. Borrow the words of someone else if you can’t find the words for yourself. But praise.
Praise the One who remains. Who rides the storm. Who whispers in our heartbreak.
The all conquering King.
Praise the Almighty, the Lord of Everything.
Hannah Currie 