The Psalms in the Bible are songs. They are songs that an imperfect people sang in thanks, in complaint, in fear, in grief, in praise and in community. They, also, sang these songs as they walked up a hill to their temple in Jerusalem. And today, my Bible class read these ascent psalms and walked up a hill. We stood shoulder to shoulder, close together and read these words, reminding us of these people who didn't have it all together, but sang anyway.

How are these psalms relevant today? Why in 2009 would we walk together up a hill and read these ancient texts? What do we have in common with these people? Well, first I am human. I am imperfect. From what I learned today, these people who wrote the psalms did some, what we would call, "bad things." They sold their bodies for money, they offered their children for sacrifice, they fought with each other, they committed adultery. With all of these not so good behaviors, are they allowed to speak to God, or even sing to God? Are they allowed to ask for help from God? Are they allowed to experience joy and gratitude for their lives and their Creator, when life looked a little messy for them down here? YES! They are. And are we? YES. I may not have sold my body for money, but I have sold my soul over the years for a lot of things. For money. To feel good. To be liked. To feel safe. Countless times I have not trusted God. I have not trusted that I am safe in the hands of something much bigger than me. Can I still sing to God with gratitude? You bet I can, and I do. I do not have to be perfect to stand before my God. God just longs for us to come home. Exactly as we are. And when we are home, and we know how loved we are no matter what, what do we do? We sing. We dance. We come out of our cocoons, with appreciation for our dark homes, and we spread our wings and take flight. I love that a people thousands of years ago sang in the midst of their imperfections. I love it. Wouldn't that be wonderful, to sing amidst our messes today, to a presence that loves us no matter what? We could drop our need to be perfect, just like that. Thank God, and everything holy, that I do not need to be perfect to be in relationship with my soul. Relationship with what is within you is constantly moving. Perfection is frozen concoction of the mind. Life is movement.

We try to grasp this truth in our minds, or as Lauren Winner says in her book Mudhouse Sabbath, we try to do God in our heads, not with our whole bodies. We cannot possibly grasp the movement of God in our heads alone. We need our bodies, the emotions that live there, and the sensations through which we experience life, to be in relationship with a living and loving God. Our bodies are where we are all well aware of our imperfections, our weaknesses, our limitations. That is probably why we take up residence in our heads so much; to avoid the mess of it all. But that messiness is nothing to be afraid of. My limitations remind me of my true home. My true power. My limitations, whether they be physical, emotional, spiritual, invite me to consider where it is my life really comes from.  In fact, it is in the deep dark mess of it, that a song can be heard very clearly.  When we sing in the places where we least expect to hear a song, the song becomes more potent. It's like Grandma singing in the MRI waiting room. It's the last place I thought I would hear a song. And I heard it more clearly because of that. It stood out. We can hear the tune better when it's the last thing we expected hear.

Let us sing a song in the midst of our lives. It doesn't matter if it is a song of gratitude or grief, anger or joy. Just sing. Sing your song.