Sing Like You Think No One’s Listening

So, the other day I was out running with my iPod in hand, listening to some good tunes and enjoying being outside with God. Well, when I got home from the run and sat down on my front porch to take off my shoes, I belted out the tune playing in my ears. No one was around outside and I thought my two roommates were still at the gym working out. But, unbeknownst to me, those two rascals were sitting in the living room, enjoying (with much hilarity) my solo through the open front porch window.

If you’re curious, I was listening to a Toad the Wet Sprocket playlist while running, and the song on my lips was their 'Nightingale Song.' I don’t know what the song is about, but it’s catchy and fun to sing. Oh, and by the way, the name of my blogspot site came from one of my favorite Toad songs by the same name, 'I Will Not Take These Things for Granted.'

I love singing and I love singing loud, especially when I’m alone at home or in the car. Who doesn’t? What is it about singing that is so…so I don’t know what?

It’s fun. It provides release. It's cathartic.

Why can’t the church’s communal worship be like that? Why can’t we sing like we think no one’s listening? Or, rather, that God is the only one listening, and that he is the one we are singing to please? Our singing might not sound as good, but perhaps it'd be more meaningful for all involved.

I can’t wait for the day I’m before God’s throne and can sing with complete freedom, with no embarrassment, no anxiety. There have only been a couple of times when I have felt the freedom to worship like no one else was listening. One was on spring retreat with the Razorbacks for Christ during my freshman year in undergrad. We camped at Withrow Springs Park just outside of Huntsville, Arkansas, and on late Friday night of the retreat most of us drove to a nearby cave. Half of the cavers took a muddy journey through the belly of the mountain, but the rest of us stopped in a room filled with several large boulders. We each found a seat on the boulders and then turned off our flashlights and sang song after song. The acoustics were amazing and it was pitch black, you know, so black that I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. I enjoyed the freedom that the loudness and darkness afforded—I could sing out and not be embarrassed.

But, I don’t really even have to be singing loudly or singing at all to worship. A couple of weekends ago, I was at a rock concert, and though I don’t think very many folks in the crowd were there to connect with God, parts of the concert helped me to. The music in this song. The lyrics in that one. Several bands played at the concert, but the one we went to see was Copeland, and one of my favs from their set was 'You Love to Sing.' Here’s the chorus:

Sing with your head up
With your eyes closed
Not because you love the song
Because you love to sing
Because you love to sing, oh

Yep, I sang during this song.

While traveling to and from Colorado last week, however, I definitely didn’t sing, but I had plenty of time to listen to music, to sing in my heart, to think, to pray, to watch people waiting on their flights, to watch the clouds go by. One song in particular sparked this post. 'Existentialism on Prom Night,' by Straylight Run. You can listen to it here.

The chorus begins:

Sing like you think no one’s listening.

And the bridge goes like so:

So, sing me something soft
Sad and delicate
Or loud and out of key
Sing me anything

Maybe this is what God would like to say to us. Sing me anything. Tell me anything. Just as long as your heart’s in it.

Sing like you think no one’s listening.