It was that feeling of defeat; the type that makes you hang your head and close your eyes, wishing with every ounce of strength left in you that you could magically disappear to anywhere else in the world. Anywhere other than this rooftop in Nepal, anywhere other than standing in front of your entire squad. It’s the type of feeling I had experienced all too often; it’s the thing that makes you want to run away.
Because I was standing speechless, frozen with fear, heavy under false expectations and way too many lies dancing around in my ears. I was standing immobile as a failure in my own eyes, perceiving that everyone else had the same dark brown pair staring back at me.
It was the end of month three and all the growth I thought I had made seemed to be crashing to the ground; sinking into some black abyss I didn’t know was there.
It was one of the longest and most beautiful nights of my life. It was the night that Jesus began to show me even more of what true freedom is. It was the night He gave me Psalm 30:12:
“that my heart may sing to you and not be silent”
I took it and wrote it not only on my guitar, but on my heart so that I could remember that night, those feelings and that lesson every time I opened my mouth. But lately, Jesus has been stirring in me an even bigger idea. I had applied that verse to my worship but He wanted me to apply it to my life; to believe that with each word, thought, prayer, song and action our heart overflows out of our mouth and into our lives and the world among us.
I mean, it’s always been a heart thing right?
“…for out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.” -Matthew 12:34
“Above all else, guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life.” -Proverbs 4:23
So suppose our hearts really did overflow into our lives. Suppose we really did walk in our identity. Suppose I knew what that looked like and by conscious thoughts and actions, I lived it. Suppose the fear and doubt that usually chains us in a standstill were cast out and away from us so that only a freedom and confidence could be fed. Suppose we did try to out embellish God. Suppose we dreamed on a daily basis and didn’t always “come back to reality” but lived in the reality of the Kingdom of God. Suppose we taught the world to breathe. Suppose we didn’t see how we could bring Kingdom, but lived like it was already here.
What if we let our heart overflow? What if we chose to let it sing; to carry a joy that could be felt? To be led by peace instead of worded answers. What if we chose to trust God and others, to see every moment as teachable and learn-able? What if we chose to let our heart sing as we sit with God in His creation, by inviting others into more; more of who they are and more aware of who God is in them?
What if we chose to love; above all else, to simply and purely love?
Let us not be silent.