So many songs have been on my rotation for so long that I have stopped noticing them, and even though I once examined the lyrics to be sure they fit me, I now spit them out mindlessly, my brain sensing it can sit back when I know the words in my heart.
For the Feast of Christ the King we sang “He is Exalted”. He is exalted, the King is exalted on high, I will praise him. With its repetitive form and gentle triple meter we were halfway through the B section before I knew what I was singing.
He is the Lord, forever his truth shall reign. Heaven and earth rejoice in his holy name! The text jolted me to awareness. I stood up straighter. Despite a few more masculine pronouns than I am comfortable with, I still believe this. I still rejoice in God’s holy name, despite a season of unanswered prayers, despite the slow drip of loss in my family, despite having been unbelievably transformed from well to sick, despite life simply being much harder now.
Miraculously I still have faith. It was miraculous I ever had it, even in a simpler time. Having a conviction in my deepest heart that God is good has been a constant in my life. I had to recalibrate the wheels of hope when life presented me with so many things that can’t be undone, but whatever that mysterious glowing hope is, it orbits a faith that I often forget.
Before mass I had spent some time thinking about life’s challenges, about the bad luck that has been thrown at me in the midst of all my blessings. I don’t believe examining the things I am angry or sad about is a sin. But what salvation it was when faith burst through my grievances and reminded me of the joy and exultation that lie so deep.
This is enough to be grateful for.