A little boy was kidnapped. Snatched from his driveway. Driven around for 3 hours by a stranger.
Do you know what he did?
He sang. He sang a gospel song. He sang Every Praise.
For 3 hours he sang. The abductor told him to shut up. He kept singing.
HE KEPT SINGING PRAISES.
And the abductor kicked him out of the car. Let him go.
I don’t know how I came across this story, but I’ve been thinking about it all day.
If I was him I would have felt hopeless. I’m 10-years old, in a stranger’s car, and I have no clue where I’m going or how I’m going to out of this situation. I’m sure all I would do is cry. Sob my little heart out about the situation I was in.
This little boy? He annoyed the devil with praise. I love it.
And then the little boy met the man that wrote the song, Hezekiah Walker.
Walker was so moved by the story because what if he was given this song for this moment? What if this was all orchestrated by God? To write a song to save a boy?
Then I thought about Pharrell and his song “Happy”, and how the entire world is literally a better place because of it. How Pharrell sobbed when he saw people all over the world dancing to his music.
We think our praises are petty. We think our art is petty. We think it doesn’t matter if we sit on the sidelines of life because, well, I’m just one person. It was just one song. It was just one blog post. It was just one necklace. It was just one store. It was just one recipe. It was just one photograph. It was just one diagnosis. It was just one case. It was just one audit. It was just one potty-trained toddler.
But the stuff we create matters. The stuff we put into the world really does matter.
And I feel like the devil is always asking us to shut up. Stop creating. Be ashamed. Nobody needs what you have to give. You’re worthless.
Praise anyway. Sing anyway. Create anyway.
Because we have no idea who we are going to touch or save or help when we start being brave.