How Can I Keep From Singing

My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth’s lamentation,
I hear the sweet, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation

Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear that music ringing
It finds an echo in my soul,
How can I keep from singing?

I found myself in church on Sunday yet again with tears streaming down my face. We ended the service with the hymn How Can I Keep From Singing? As I approached the third anniversary of my boy’s heaven day, my heart sang this hymn from a place of renewed grief. 

The month of our first loss is particularly hard. I tend to find myself hoping that I’m pregnant, or on vacation, or experiencing something incredibly exciting to escape from the pain that increases as we approach his day on June 30. But none of those things are what I really want—deep down I know I want my sweet boy here with me. I’m reminded again every June that my desire has been denied. 

The promises of our Savior are real, and I have to stand solidly on the foundations of His Word when a spiritual attack hits me. When I feel the pressures of the storm of grief engulfing me, I consider that singing a hymn is a type of “rebel yell.” 

We can find ourselves under attack at any moment. As hope parents, triggers can easily put us back in the battle field fighting the lies Satan likes to tell us. Singing praise to the Lord renews my spirit and equips me for battle. I can sing with my eyes closed, from a place deep in my heart, regardless of what circumstances I’m facing. Sometimes, I feel so weak that singing is all I feel that I can do. 

This hymn was new to me, and took the words right out of my mouth on a morning that felt particularly hard. 

What though my joys and comforts die?
—I know my Savior liveth
What though the darkness gather round?
Songs in the night He giveth

No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I’m clinging
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?

A family member who has also experienced stillbirth pulled my husband and I aside last year at a family event, and for the first time addressed our losses. It surprised me, and it felt awkward at first. But his takeaway for us was to “keep looking up.” He was referring to fixing our eyes on the Lord. 

We were fresh in our grief over the loss of our son, Robert, at that time. His encouragement fell flat to me. I wanted to say “I am. Now what?” But in the days when the waiting felt endless, our loved ones’ advice didn’t fall on deaf ears. Even though God felt silent, I needed to wait for Him. Even as I sat longing and waiting for His help, I needed to keep my eyes fixed on Him. That is such a challenge in times of great grief. In periods of waiting, faith is truly tested.

In Max Lucado’s book God Will Carry You Through, he says, “Don’t let the sadness overwhelm you. Don’t let the fear intimidate you. To do nothing is the wrong thing. To do something is the right thing. And to believe is the highest thing.” I put this quote in my phone notes and use it as a reminder in hard moments. Sometimes, doing something is as simple as just getting out of bed. Almost always, the thing I can bring myself to do is pray. I can find a song in my heart, even a sad one, and worship through its truthful lyrics. 

I lift my eyes, the cloud grows thin
I see the blue above it
And day by day this pathway smooths,
Since first I learned to love it,

The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart
A fountain ever springing
For all things are mine since I am His
How can I keep from singing?

In times where despair tries to creep in, I have to cling to the vine that sustains me—the rock that holds me firm while the waves crash. I let the tears flow. I don’t hold back anymore. I don’t think God ever asked me to hold back my tears and try to tough things out. Now, in the good and hard moments, I try to honestly come to Him as I am. It is in this place of honesty with myself and Him where He can hold me tight and take care of me. It’s in this place of honesty that I can let Him in. 

He continues to show up for me, I continue to see His work in my life even though my feeling of waiting and longing remains.

Episode 173 of The Bible in a Year podcast speaks directly to hope parents at the end. They asked, “God, why would You give us this child, only to have them be taken away from us? Why would You let us get pregnant only to let us lose the pregnancy?” I’ve asked this before. I’ve asked this again and again in the trying times—like at church on Sunday before we sang this hymn or when I’m enduring our renewed grief that comes every June. 

But they go on to say, “We know our God is God of the living and the dead. And all those people that we’ve loved and all those wounds we have experienced, they are not for nothing…death is not the end. And yet, death does break our hearts.”

That’s the promise. Death is not the end. We can cling to the hope that we will see our children again. 

His goodness, His Word, His promises are a solid rock in the storm. It takes discipline, but I can cling to truth and sing His praises through honest hymns in the hard moments. How could I not? He sacrificed Himself and conquered death for me.

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In addition to her Hope Babies, Paige is a mom to Joseph John here on this earth. She and her husband are avid gardeners of wildflowers, roses, herbs, and veggies at their home in Texas. In the quieter moments you’ll find her running, knitting, or reading.

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