Some people say God speaks
through Scripture alone.
Some hear Him in silence.
Others hear Him in the wind.
As for me...
Sometimes He borrows
an old rock song.
I can be halfway through a prayer,
eyes closed,
heart open,
when a familiar line
floats into my mind.
Not to distract me,
but to lead me.
Kid Rock reminds me
that there are things
only God knows why.
Bon Jovi tells me
that some seasons of life
are lived on a prayer.
The Beatles gently whisper
to let it be,
when I have spent too much time
trying to control tomorrow.
George Harrison quietly sings,
"My Sweet Lord,"
and suddenly
my prayer isn't about asking anymore.
It's about worship.
Then comes that old question
from Five Man Electrical Band...
Was every sign
I've ever passed
pointing somewhere after all?
I think about where
those songs have travelled with me.
Two years
in the deserts of Saudi Arabia.
Two more years
crossing the sands
of the Sahara Desert
in the country of Mali.
Years later,
the warm Caribbean breezes
of Belize.
Then Mexico,
where I learned
that losing my way
was often the first step
toward finding it again.
Now,
on Vancouver Island,
I find myself
walking into church,
opening my Bible,
and talking with Jesus
as naturally
as talking with an old friend.
Looking back,
I realize
the soundtrack never changed.
The songs grew older.
So did I.
But somehow,
God kept finding ways
to speak through words
I thought belonged only
to the radio.
Perhaps He knew
I would recognize
a familiar melody
long before
I recognized His voice.
So now,
when a lyric drifts
into the middle of a prayer,
I don't dismiss it.
I pause.
I listen.
I ask why
that line,
that artist,
that memory
arrived at that exact moment.
Maybe it's simply
my mind wandering.
Or maybe...
the One who created music
still knows
exactly which song
will open my heart.
And if that's true,
then every prayer
has its own melody,
and every mile
I've travelled
from Saudi Arabia,
to the Sahara Desert of Mali,
to Belize,
to Mexico,
and finally home again
has been part
of the same song,
written by a Composer
who knew the ending
before I ever heard
the opening note.
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