Last weekend I drove to Georgia to spend some time with my older sister, Bridgett. She’s an ob/gyn and was on call that weekend. She asked if I wanted to go with her to the hospital while she checked on a patient who would be in labor for a few more hours.
Around midnight, I was sitting at the nurse’s station, reading, when Bridgett came running around the corner. She looked as excited as my nephew looks on Christmas morning. Her eyes were shining, and a huge smile covered her face. She put little things that look like shower caps over her shoes and then disappeared around the corner.
And then I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.
Heartsongs
Above the nurse’s station was a large screen monitoring the heartbeat of my sister’s patient and the baby about to be born.
It was just a black screen with two bright jagged lines zipping across, but the more I watched, the more sentimental I became. The screen looked like sheet music for two beating hearts.
That’s a pretty sweet thought to me: The idea that before we’re born, there’s a symphony in our hearts and souls, just ours, a song nobody else can hear yet, introducing us to the life we’re created to live. One heartbeat was fast. The other was steady but a bit slower. Then they both got fast, like a grand finale, then one heartbeat stopped . . . because that baby was no longer inside her mom. Just like that, life was everywhere.
A few minutes later, the dad came out carrying the first of his brand-new twins to the nursery. All I could see were blankets. All he could look at was her face. I think catching a glimpse of a moment like that is pretty rare and pretty wonderful.
The Song He Sings
When I think of that night, I think of Zephaniah’s intimate cry to God: Quiet me with your holy love, rejoice over me with singing. (See Zephaniah 3:17.) That verse makes me think of the tenderness of God—like a dad holding a little girl, singing a lullaby, rocking her to sleep. It also makes me wonder what God’s voice sounds like when He sings. I wonder if it would fill up the skies, star breath across the inky universe. Or is it more like a lullaby, like the quiet rhythm of two beating hearts?
The point is, He sings over you!
You’re caught up in the strong arms of God, and He loves being close to you. Whether or not you were planned by your parents, God wanted you here for this moment.
From the beginning we couldn’t see to the end we can’t predict, He’s with us every single step.
Really Known
In Jeremiah 1:5, God reminds His brave hero of just how long they’ve been acquainted. Before anybody else knew Jeremiah or what color his eyes would be or what he’d do, God knew him.
David talks about how God knew him in the secret place when He was knitting together everything about David’s life. God knows us when we’re barely a heartbeat. I love being known like that.
This summer, I think we should challenge each other to know Him more. I want to dig a little deeper into His Word and find out more about Him. I want to devote a little bit more time to worship—true worship that comes straight from my heart and shows in my life. And I want to spend more time with people, especially people who have no clue what a miracle their heartbeat is, who feel they’re just taking up space with no real purpose. People need to know they’re loved. Let’s show them.
Summer Love
Even when you were barely a blurb with a beating heart on an ultrasound, God had a beautiful dream for you. He knows us best, loves us most and has an uncanny way of making a symphony from all the chaos in our lives. I hope your summer is full of campfires, sunsets, fireflies and oceans that pulse in and out against the sand.
And I hope one warm afternoon you’re able to steal away by yourself and remember how much you are loved and held by God. I hope you put your hand over your chest and remember He’s closer to you than your heartbeat.
You are His symphony to a lonely world!
