Singing in the Flood

Sing to the Lord a new song. The instruction feels cruel when you are drowning. But the new song is not the old triumph in a fresh translation. It is the music of wounded hope — quieter, gritter, sung by bodies that have decided to keep going. Over four reflections, we walk through what that song actually sounds like, and the slow discovery that you have been singing it all along.

The Impossible Command

Sing to the Lord a new song. The instruction feels cruel when you are drowning. The old songs no longer fit the voice you have now. The new song is not the old song faked — it is something else entirely. Part one of Singing in the Flood.

A Different Kind of Music

The new song is not the old song with new lyrics. It is the music of wounded hope — quieter, gritter, a steady heartbeat that says I am still here. Part two of Singing in the Flood.

When the Sea Joins the Choir

Let the sea resound. The same sea that was roaring in Psalm 93 is now being commanded to join the worship. The storm is not the thing that disqualifies you. The storm has been invited into the choir. Part three of Singing in the Flood.

The Body That Keeps Singing

The new song is not performed on a stage. It is sung in kitchens, in cars, in 3 a.m. rooms — by bodies that have decided to keep going. You have been singing the whole time. Part four of Singing in the Flood.