Alongside every group that gathers to sing, there is also someone who cannot sing. No matter how professional, no matter how disciplined, Alongside any group that gathers to sing, there is also someone who cannot sing.
Have you been to a sporting event, where we are supposed to sing, “The Star-Spangled Banner”? You see some people mumbling words they cannot remember, you see others downing their six-dollar hot dogs, and you see still others with their caps down, catching forty winks before the game begins. They are not singing. By the way, you do know, don’t you, what the last words of the National Anthem are? It’s NOT “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” The final words of the National Anthem are,“Play ball!”
When the crowd gathers to sing the National Anthem, some will not sing it, but some cannot sing it. Some cannot sing it, maybe because its range of an octave and a half is too much for most voices, but it is also that some cannot sing it because they are not American citizens. The anthem does not express their commitment. They are not a part of this nation and therefore cannot sing that song. They don’t belong.
Alongside every group that gathers to sing, there is also someone who cannot sing.
Several years ago Margaret and I went on a tour of her native England. As tourists do, we went to all those glorious cathedrals, drinking in the splendors of buildings built for the worship of God a thousand years ago. I fantasized about what it would be like to preach there, with hundreds of thirsty souls waiting for my every word. Margaret fantasized, or maybe it was a nightmare, about what it would be like to be on the Building and Grounds Committee for a thousand-year-old facility! But one of our favorite things was to attend late afternoon prayer in these ancient cathedrals. It’s called evensong, and it includes not only prayer, but also beautiful choral music. Often there were more choir members than worshipers in the congregation. The singing was glorious, the service inspiring, the brief messages instructive – I learned that the British pronounce the name of the last book of the Old Testament Mal-AH-chee. But there was one thing that was disturbing. There was one aspect that was troubling. The choirs were made up of men and boys, only men and boys. Women and girls cannot sing, not in a cathedral choir. They are excluded, just because of who they are. It had nothing to do with their voices, their musical ability, or their spirituality – it had only to do with their gender. If you are female, you cannot sing – excluded.
Alongside every group that gathers to sing, there is also someone who cannot sing. And when we come to worship on Sunday morning, there are not only those who love to sing, and not only those who try to sing, and not only those, like me, who squawk and call it singing. There are also those who cannot sing. There are also those who feel left out and excluded. Oh, you may bravely pick up a hymnal and render some tune; but the heart is not singing. You go through the motions, you lift your voice; but there is an emptiness in the soul, a heaviness in the heart. We cannot truly sing. Try as we might, we do not feel joy, we do not experience peace, we cannot grasp grace. There are some who cannot sing for the heaviness of the heart.
Why not? Why cannot some of us sing? Why cannot some of us find a settled heart? What is it that troubles us and steals our song? When John, in this climactic 14th chapter of Revelation, glimpsed the Lamb of God on Mt. Zion and the thousands singing a new song, he caught not only a vision of who was there in the throng of singers, but also of who was not there. John saw not only the tribes of all the nations, making music before the Lord; John saw also who was kept out, who was excluded, who did not belong. John saw why some cannot sing.
He said, “No one could learn that song except the one hundred forty-four thousand who have been redeemed from the earth.” No one could learn the song except the folks on the inside, those who have it all together, in the bosom of the Lord. But the others? Others cannot learn that song. Why? I see three kinds of depressed and anxious people in John’s vision. Follow me carefully.
I
First, some cannot sing because they live with unresolved guilt. Some cannot sing, some feel depression and pain, because they have done things that have never really been dealt with. And so they cannot feel release. They’ve done something that just won’t go away.
John says that among those who do sing are those “who have not defiled themselves with women, for they are virgins.” Permit me to go beyond the literal reading of these words. I hear in John that among those who sing are those who have dealt successfully with their sexuality. They have recognized that they are sexual beings, but they have resolved those issues. It’s good that those who sing include those who have dealt with their personal stuff and particularly with their sexuality. But there are some who cannot sing because they still harbor unresolved guilt.
Guilt takes many forms. Most of us have a lot of things we could feel guilty for. I don’t harangue about sin and guilt because I have learned that nobody has to help most of us feel guilty. We’ve got plenty of guilt without the preacher beating our brows about it. But did you know that often our guilt has sexual overtones? Our anxiety often expresses itself in sexual acting out. That’s been true ever since Adam and Eve discovered their nakedness and reached out for fig leaves. We’ve been handling spiritual fig leaves for a long, long time. Some of us cannot sing, some of us cannot experience joy, because we are working with unresolved guilt, and particularly sexual guilt.
John says that the new song is sung by those who have not defiled themselves. For a whole lot of people, if that is the case, there will be no song to sing. We need release and forgiveness. I want to speak to you today, in the name of the one who said to a woman caught in adultery, “I do not condemn you. Go and sin no more.” I want to say that sexual sin is serious, yes. Sexual misbehavior is not something to be winked at, no. We are sexual beings; that is both our great opportunity for expressing love and creating life, and our great catastrophe and our deep shame. But to hide it and pretend that it is not there is to create depression and reinforce unresolved guilt. If we have shame, until we deal with it, we cannot sing. We cannot experience peace. We cannot know joy.
A pastor friend of mine was horrified to learn that his teenage daughter was pregnant. He blustered, he blamed, he blew his top. Then he decided on a strategy: he would have her come in front of his congregation, confess her sin, and apologize – apologize for what? For embarrassing her dad and jeopardizing his professional standing, that’s what! He was afraid that his deacons would decide that a pastor who didn’t have control of his children could no longer serve their church. And so the issue quickly became not the girl, not helping her with repentance and new life. The issue became protecting daddy and preserving daddy’s job. Do you think that sixteen-year-old girl went home that day with a song in her heart? Not on your life! Her guilt was intensified, not relieved. Her pain was made unbearable. She could not sing. Nobody helped her resolve her guilt.
Now again let no one hear me suggesting that, oh well, do whatever you feel like and it’ll be all right. I have not said that and will not say that. In fact, quite the opposite. I believe that God has so made us that when we live out our sexuality within the covenant of marriage, then we will be free and whole. But when we choose to go outside that covenant and get into adultery or pornography or the like, we will be shackled and broken. Your song is lost because you have within you some secrets, you need to hear the desire of our Christ to forgive and to make whole. Do not waste another day wallowing in the muck and mire of unresolved guilt. Confess it, let it go, pray it out; and you too will be able to sing the new song before the throne.
II
But it is not only those with unresolved guilt who are excluded from the song; it is not only those whose guilt, particularly sexual guilt, is holding back their voices. It is also those who struggle with their imperfections. It is also those who just cannot get together the will to do what they know they ought to do. Why cannot some sing? Because they are struggling against a standard of perfection that it is impossible to attain.
John says that he saw, singing the new song before the throne, those who “follow the Lamb wherever he goes.” They can sing with joy and with pride, because they have done whatever they were supposed to do, they have been obedient at every point. You know the type. Whenever the church doors open, they are here. Whenever there is a task to do, they do it. Whenever there is a prayer to be prayed, they pray it. The Lord says, “Jump” and they say, “How high?” They follow the Lamb wherever he goes.
Well, that’s wonderful. That’s super. But what about those of us who do not follow the Lamb wherever he goes? What about those of us who cannot be that obedient, who have never been that disciplined? What about those of us who have high ideals, but never achieve them? We have strong expectations of ourselves, but we are our own disappointments? Isn’t that a source of depression? Isn’t that also a way to lose your song? If you know what you ought to do, and you set out to do it, but you never achieve it, can you live with yourself? Or do you just keep on building up frustration, and you are never satisfied, never happy?
Listen, this perfectionistic thing is complex. It can fool you. You may think that someone who is a perfectionist is tough to deal with because he expects you to get things right, and you don’t always do it. Well, that’s only one side of the coin. A perfectionist will hold you to high standards, but will be even harder on himself. Outwardly he may be tough on you; but inwardly he will feel he ought to be punished. I know of one person who was so perfectionistic that not only did she reduce to tears the people she had to work with, but also when she became terminally ill, she left word that there was to be no funeral, no grieving, no nothing. Just put her in the ground and walk away. That is a powerful need to punish one’s self. There is no song in that.
Do you know any perfectionists? You do know at least one person who disappoints himself time after time, day after day, because he can never quite achieve what he thinks he ought to achieve. I know you know that one person, because you are listening to him right now. If you don’t think I have a trend toward perfectionism, ask the church staff, whose grammar and spelling I just feel compelled to correct. One of them sent me an apologetic email this week for having spelled a word wrong in another message. I do send out perfectionistic vibes. If you don’t think I am a perfectionist, hover over my shoulder on Saturday night, as I go over the text of these sermons, once, twice, three times, trying to get them exactly right. And then come home with me on Sunday afternoon, when I relive all my mistakes and recount all the what-if’s of the Sunday service. Do you see? Some of us who are strugglers, and don’t get it right. We cannot follow the Lamb wherever he goes. We lose our song. We cannot sing. We cannot sing because we don’t get it right. Some of us would rather not sing at all if we cannot be Pavarotti!
Oh, but today, I want to hear the voice of the Lord. I want to hear that voice, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” Even strugglers can hear that voice, I believe. Peter, who so often got it wrong, heard the voice of the Lord, giving him awesome responsibility. Paul, who had headed down the road of persecution, turned around and heard the voice too, and ended up singing in the Philippian jail. Blind Bartimaeus, who had had to struggle all of his life with his imperfection, got both his sight and his song. The Lord accepts the honest struggle. Keep on struggling, but forgive yourself. Keep on working, but offer yourself rest. Take courage; because God is not finished with you yet. We cannot be perfect, but the Bible assures us that He who began a good work in us will bring it to perfection in Christ Jesus. Let God be God, take the hands off the need to be perfect, and He’ll give you a new song.
III
But I suspect that I have not yet exhausted this theme. I suspect that I have not yet plumbed all the reasons why some cannot sing. True, some cannot sing because they have unresolved guilt. And true as well, some cannot sing because they have demanded of themselves an impossible perfection. But there is more, and this is the deepest thing of all: some cannot sing because they have bought into lies about themselves. Some cannot sing because their song is choked out by the lies they have taken in about themselves.
John really challenges me when he says that among those singing around the throne are those in whose mouth no lie was found, they are blameless. You can sing a mighty strong song if it tells the truth. But let me tell you, if the song is a lie, and you know it, it sticks in the throat. It won’t come out. And so, brother John, it’s good that you saw thousands of souls singing away up there in whose mouth no lie was found. But that leaves the rest of us on the outside, unable to sing, if we have listened to lies about ourselves.
What lies have you been told and bought into? Was it the racist lie that said, “Black kids can’t learn”? Did you accept that? Some do, and set out to demonstrate that very thing. If you accept such a lie, there is no song in your heart.
Was it the family lie that said, “You’re just like your no-good father.” Or the one that told you, “Your mother doesn’t really want you?” Did you accept that? Are you telling yourself that you are not good enough? If you are, if you accept that lie, you cannot sing. You have excluded yourself from hope.
A couple of weeks ago Margaret and I went over to see our grandchildren. We took them a pair of little plastic tennis rackets and a ball. We figure that If you want them to upset Venus and Serena, we’d have to start now. Well, I eased that tennis ball toward Olivia; she swung and she missed. I tried it again; she swung and she missed. A third time and a fourth, with the same result. Then I saw a cloud come over that two-and-a-half-year-old face. She went to the couch, put her face down in the pillow, and proclaimed, “I’m never going to play this game again.” In the midst of my giggles, I sensed that a little lie was creeping in – the lie that says, “I’m not going to be good enough”. And then again this week, she was building something with her Lego bricks, and when it felt down, I saw on her face that discouraged look that said, “I can’t do this. I’m not good enough”.
I know that look, you see. I know that lie, because I heard it and I bought into it when I was young. My mother always found a way to tell me that I was not good enough. Nothing was ever quite right enough for her. Her face communicated dissatisfaction and her words disapproval. So I began to rack up a little list in my young mind of the things I could not do. I began to tell myself that “you’re a failure” lie that still pops up in me today, from time to time. I know about that lie.
To be sure, the Bible does teach us that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. But let us not forget that it also teaches that we are made in the image of God and after His likeness. Yes, the Bible does teach, as I mentioned only last week, that the heart of man is deceitful above all things. But let us not forget that it also teaches us that if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation, old things are passed away, and all things become new. Do not buy a lie, do not accept a half-truth about yourself! Tell the whole story, hear the whole gospel – sinners Jesus will receive. Tell the whole story, hear the entire gospel – that amazing grace, how sweet the sound, saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but any more. That’s a lie. For now I’m found. Once I was blind, but not any more. That’s a lie. Now I see. I have a song to sing.
How did I personally find that song? How did Joseph get his groove back? When I was almost seven years old, Christmas came. It had been a rough year. My mother had spent the entire year in a mental hospital – some of that was clinical depression, some of it the lies she told herself and passed on to her sons. It had been hard on all of us – myself, my dad, my baby brother, my grandmothers. But that Christmas my dad took me on his knee, he told me he understood, he told me he loved me, he told me he cared for me, he told me the truth. The truth, brothers and sisters, the truth! The truth without which noone can live – that we are loved! We are cherished. That gave me back my song.
So that’s what I gave my granddaughter when she complained, “I’ll never play this game again”. I held her and told her I loved her. It’s not about using a tennis racket; it’s about the love that will help her love herself. That’s what I’ll keep on giving my children and my grandchildren – unconditional love. That’s what is to be given to each of you – the love that offers you room to grow and thrive. That’s what we can give each other – sheer, unbounded, life-giving love. That’s what we get from the Father through Jesus the Christ – total love, total acceptance, total joy. And a song to sing.
Some cannot sing, it’s true. Some are depressed because of unresolved guilt or perfectionistic standards. Worst of all, some cannot sing because they have heard lies about themselves. But, oh, hear this: the love of the Lord, given in sacrifice on the cross, affirmed in hope through the resurrection – the love of the Lord can bring the lowest out of the miry clay and it can restore the song that clamors to get out. Will you trust Him, will you come to Him, will you let Him heal you, body and soul, heart and spirit? Will you let Him deal give you a new song?
For this “wonderful, wonderful Jesus; in the heart He implanteth a song. A song of deliverance, of courage and hope. In the heart He implanteth a song.”
Oh, come, don’t you want to sing? Would you hold your head high and lift up your weary heart? You can sing. Yes, you can. You can sing. “Let those refuse to sing who never knew our God”. But you are children of the heavenly king, and you may sing your joys abroad. Praise Christ, you may sing your joys abroad.
