L. Curtis Muldrew

When Jesus Sings I picture Jesus doing many things: teaching, healing, casting out demons, eating with sinners, making Pharisees mad. Typical stuff in the Gospels. And, of course, I also see him arrested, tried, executed, and resurrected. Perhaps it’s the same for you. But one activity that was a daily, certainly a weekly, part of his life that we often miss is this: singing. Like all Jews, Jesus sang psalms and hymns (probably other songs as well). At the synagogue. In the temple. When he celebrated the Passover. While he may have sung while alone, he certainly did with his family and friends. Singing was part of the human, corporate life of Jesus. The preacher in Hebrews underscores this. After emphasizing that Christ, the “founder of [our] salvation, [was] made perfect through suffering,” he adds, “that is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, saying, ‘I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise’” (Heb. 2:10-12). First suffering, then singing. First pain, then praising. Hebrews is, quite fittingly, quoting from Psalm 22:22, when it speaks of Jesus singing along with his brothers, praising the name of God. I say “quite fittingly” because Psalm 22 begins with suffering and ends with singing—from pain to praise. Our Lord, in agony, cries the opening words of this psalm, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (v. 1) and cries, in triumph, one of the closing verses of this psalm, “I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you” (v. 22). The resurrection is a singing event. Who could possibly remain silent when the Son of God, once dead, now lives, never to die again? And lives for us! Our Father “has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted” Messiah, “but has heard, when he cried to him” (v. 24). And he hears us, those made alive in Jesus, belting out our Hallelujah alongside our resurrected Brother.

Lord, I believe. Help Thou my unbelief. That is our table prayer, our bedside prayer, our office prayer, our driving prayer, our 24/7 petition. Lord, I do believe, but I also don’t believe. I am a cocktail of contradictions: double-hearted, forked-tongued, pulled heavenward and hellward every step I take. I fear you but I also fear failure. I trust you but I also trust myself. I love you but I also love the limelight. Lord, I am a saint and a sinner, your bride and the devil’s whore. Lord, I believe. Help Thou my unbelief.