Sorrow Finds a Song

Last night in Book Club came a phrase that I felt was so personal to my own story.

“Sorrow finds a song.”

Lately I’ve been sharing with many who hold a pen for Heaven.

I have been guilty of the desire to write predominantly on joy or the good things God has done for me.

I have had the honor of watching Him move in astounding and lovely ways over my years.

Yet, my most ministry-filled songs came from seasons of sorrow. Born out of anguish. The processing of personal pains. The outpouring of a crushed heart.

And if I asked many I minister to today for their favorite songs they would not choose my upbeat songs but those that caused their eyes to sting with tears.

The valley has a vault perhaps of melodic refrains and lyrical lessons.

Songs that articulate what someone else can’t yet put words to.

I don’t choose which of my seasons are the most fruitful nor do I choose the kinds of songs I get to write.

Some of the songs birthed in the valley of Achor I’ve never sang live, only released.

They, each, hold memories not soon forgotten that are making their way to the hearts they were written for.

Sorrow stirs tenderly what you wish you didn’t have to know, yet, the world is in need of.

Sorrow indeed does find a song.

Sorrow can become a birthing place.

Sorrow often gives the world a song that is laced with healing.

How?

Because, finally, the sorrow of others is met with understanding and acknowledgment and they feel seen in all of their pain.

They’re not crazy.

They’re not weak.

They’re not ridiculous.

They’re human.

So for all the writers out there holding pens for Heaven.

Write the good, but also write the hard.

Because, like me, you’ll soon find out that the crushing season produced an oil like no other because the sorrow did, indeed, find a song.