If you have not yet heard Susan Boyle’s rendition of the song with the blog post’s title, PLEASE invest the time for a very reflective listening through (or two or three). Quite fitting for Lent, and perhaps Good Friday especially, it speaks strongly to those in the midst of questions or trembling or wonder or grief. The lyrics approach life’s moments of darkness or drowning confusion with passion, honesty and a firm insistence to God: YOU HAVE TO BE THERE.
Though I love the often quoted Rilke lines of advice about being patient about what is unresolved in our hearts and the need to “learn to live the questions” of life with expectation and hope, this pray-er might not be as well served by those words yet. She/he is clearly thrust in the midst of need, all a-tremble. Patience is drowned out by the insistence borne of need. Susan Boyle’s voice quality so well captures this need, this calling out in truth-pain-hope, and the nakedness of a faith-filled cry. It brings to mind some of what would be in Jesus’ calling out to the Father in Gethsemane and on the cross. You HAVE to be there, God. Who else would be there, if not you?
So, listen and watch the YouTube video link provided below. Perhaps you too will be driven to prayer, as Jesus was driven by the Spirit into the desert. With the singer, and with Jesus, we might find ourselves saying, “You HAVE to be there. You have to. My life I have placed in your keep. .. I reach for your hand.” Perhaps you may find comfort simply because it indicates that others have been or are in this very stark place, and there is beauty and majesty in the honest prayer and reaching as there is in Susan’s passionate performance.
If this type of life moment and need of faith is not the season you are in, listen and pray the words and passion for those who are there this day, and let your heart cry out in faith for and with them.
So, pause. Click below. Listen. View. Notice what the song touches in you, as I do in me. And let us choose to be vulnerable and available to whatever in it that might be God’s invitation to us. I wish you peace in the reaching for God’s hand: I’ll meet you there.