Just standing here….

My husband and I, along with four young people, lead worship at our church one Sunday every month. Though my voice isn’t anything out of the ordinary and I get off key sometimes, I love to sing to the Lord.  Being in a group that includes the beautiful and strong baritone of my husband and the clear high voices of two teenage girls, I am emboldened to sing out.

 This Sunday something unusual happened. When we started leading a set of praise songs, this tiny little girl stood up and walked calmly to the front.  She had been sitting in the front row of the church with her mom and dad.  They are regular attenders, but I don’t know them well.  The child is somewhere between three and four years old.  She is adorable.  Long, curly brown hair that is always adorned with a bow or ribbon, she has big brown eyes.  She’s just beautiful.  I know she’s had some health issues, but I haven’t heard for a while how that is going.  She’s a shy one.  She stays close to Mom and Dad, she always sits quietly during church, never fussing or making noise. As we began singing on Sunday, she climbed the three steps to the ‘stage’ then turned around and faced the congregation.  And just stood there, soaking in the music.  Not one adult, including her parents, felt any need to tell her to return to her seat.  No one fussed at her that she didn’t belong there.  It was clear from the beginning that she did belong there.  As I sang, I watched her.  She was worshipping our Lord.  She didn’t know the words.  She didn’t know what to do, she just stood there, soaking in the joy of the music and the atmosphere –  sharing it, feeling it, and reflecting it back.  She just stood.  Her standing was worship and praise spoken loud and clear.  She just stood.  (And maybe danced a little on the second song when it got a bit faster and louder!)

 I have a friend who is hurting.  Desperately.  Life events have not been fair or kind recently, and she is broken and in deep pain.  I love her dearly but I don’t know how to help.  I don’t know the words.  I don’t know what to do.

 I learned a little something on Sunday morning that just might show me.  I can become a child, rooted in a very primary way to a God who I don’t always understand.  I can just stand.  I can stand, without the words and without knowing what to do.  I can just stand – beside my hurting friend and in front of God for her.  I can know that God will not fuss at me or make me sit down.  He’ll hear me and understand that this standing is all I have to give, all I know to give.  And it will be enough.