When God Sings - Lisa Hughes Tyson
For the past 20 years I have worked with Special Education. Some days I do all that I need to do. Then there are those other days when I do what needs to be done….it’s not always the same. At the end of the days you do all you “need to do”, you have crossed off everything on your list. On the days that you do what “needs to be done”, your list may be full at the end of the day, but your heart is even more full.
I often have the privilege of working with students with very high needs who may use behavior to show you how they are feeling instead of their words. Yesterday was a particularly difficult day for one of my special high school friends. When I came on the scene, his teachers were trying to calm him and keep him from hurting himself or others. As he continued to become more and more upset, two additional colleagues and I came in to help and give his own teachers an opportunity to regroup.
This child was so upset. He had bitten his lip until it was bleeding. He was trying to hit his head on the wall. He had thrown himself on the ground and hurt his knees. He was tired. And hurting. And scared. And did not have the words to tell anyone what was wrong. So he cried.
Have you ever felt that way? Exhausted. Hurting. Scared. Wanting desperately for God to intervene and “fix” what was wrong but you just did not seem to have the words. Your friends have come in to stand beside you but they just can’t take away the problem—or the pain. So you cry.
When I came into the room, I walked right up in front of him and started talking to him—in Spanish—the language in which his mother speaks to him at home. I told him he was safe. I told him I knew he was scared. I told him I saw he was sad. I told him I am here. I sang to him softly. I sang Jesus Loves Me—right there in a public school. His teachers warned me not to get too close because he may hurt me. But I was not afraid. As I spoke to him and sang to him, I reached out my hands to him. He reached out and touched mine. And he began to calm down.
Then God walks into the room and begins to speak to you. Softly and tenderly—in a language that you understand from the depths of your soul because it is the language only your Heavenly Father uses. He tells you that you are safe. He tells you He sees you. He tells you He is not leaving you. He sings over you. He is not afraid—and never will be. He reaches out and takes your hands and begins to sing over you. As you allow Jesus to take your hands in His very own nail scarred hands, you begin to calm down in His presence.
I stayed with him for a while. Each time I tried to leave the classroom, tears filled his eyes. So I stayed.
It seems you can physically feel His presence. As you begin to feel more secure, you wonder if He is still there and if you can make it out of that “place” alone. Tears fill your eyes. He’s still there because He never left.
I do not know how his day is going today because I am at another school. But, I do know that my friend showed me a very tangible picture of what Jesus does with me—a lesson I will not soon forget.
“For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty Savior. He will delight in you with gladness. With His love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.”
Zephaniah 3:17 NLB
~Lisa Hughes Tyson