We don’t praise him from our lips so that we can hear our own voice, we don’t lift up our hands so that he might actually come closer, and we don’t express our overwhelming gratitude to feed some ego or alter some event.
We lift up praise so that he can pour out life.
We lift up praise because in the midst of heartache, in the midst of despair, in the midst of my brokenness I need to praise.
I need to pour out who I am and what I want at the feet of the only one who can tell me who I am.
I praise him because the bitterness that threatens to squeeze the life out of my fragile heart is always upon me.
Poor situations and bad circumstances can always be found.
Pain is just moments away so I lift my hands, not in the hopes that he might come closer because he lives in me, but in the hopes that I might remember just how grateful I am.
I sing the songs and I breathe the prayers because my heart needs to be refreshed today.
I lift up cries and tears and aches and pains and he reminds me of the beauty of who he is and how he finished it all.
He reminds me that I am loved, that I belong, and that he won’t get it wrong.
In the midst of deep pain we must praise the most, sing the loudest, and practice the art of gratitude. God knows who he is, he doesn’t need to be reminded of his holiness, he needs us to remind ourselves of his love.
God doesn’t need my praise, he is not dependent on it. I need it. I need it like I need air, praise fills my lungs and my heart and reminds me that I have been given all I will ever need.
So I lift my hands and say a continual thank you not for what could come but for what I have already been given.