Whatever comes, we shall endure.

I heard this song, "Feast or Fallow" by Sandra McCracken back in the Fall sometime. I honestly don't remember, but I remember mentioning to Brandon that we should sing it sometime together for church. It symbolized a lot for me and I felt like it would be a very powerful thing for me to do. In high school and college, I helped lead worship on Wednesdays and for a Sunday night service we used to have.  With the help of two mentors, I taught myself guitar and started singing and playing back in 9th grade. Playing and singing were a big part of who I was pre-seizure. After my seizure, my coordination wasn't the same and I didn't have the energy to play anymore. My guitar gathered dust. I took a solid 2 years off of singing or playing. I've helped out on the "praise team," (one of my least favorite church terms ever) a few times over the last year or so, but haven't played my guitar in front of people since 2008. I was scheduled to sing with Brandon at the beginning of January (as I have several times before) but it got pushed back to the 15th. The 15th happened to be my birthday. Brandon emailed me a week before and asked if I'd be interested in doing Feast or Fallow for offertory on that Sunday. After some freaking out, I agreed to do it if he would play and sing with me.

I was proud of myself for accepting the challenge instead of running from it. I was proud that I felt like I was ready to be vulnerable in front of people again. I was proud to sing a song that felt like it came from my own soul and experience. I was nervous as I've ever been, but it felt good. It felt right. What better way to celebrate a birthday than to re-claim my guitar. Re-claim my voice. And proclaim that whatever comes, we shall endure. My fields have been dry. My winter was long. The earth shook beneath me on more than one occasion. But what I've come to know more powerfully than anything else is every word in the chorus is true.

When the fields are dry, and the winter is long
Blessed are the meek, the hungry, the poor
When my soul is downcast, and my voice has no song
For mercy, for comfort, I wait on the Lord
In the harvest feast or the fallow ground,
My certain hope is in Jesus found
My lot, my cup, my portion sure
Whatever comes, we shall endure
Whatever comes, we shall endure
On a cross of wood, His blood was outpoured
He Rose from the ground, like a bird to the sky
Bringing peace to our violence, and crushing death’s door
Our Maker incarnate, our God who provides
In the harvest feast or the fallow ground,
My certain hope is in Jesus found
My lot, my cup, my portion sure
Whatever comes, we shall endure
Whatever comes, we shall endure
When the earth beneath me crumbles and quakes
Not a sparrow falls, nor a hair from my head
Without His hand to guide me, my shield and my strength
In joy or in sorrow, in life or in death
In the harvest feast or the fallow ground,
My certain hope is in Jesus found
My lot, my cup, my portion sure
Whatever comes, we shall endure
Whatever comes, we shall endure