TONIGHT

This song was inspired by a melody I had in my mind for many weeks, and eventually it evolved into a duet. I have written several songs (that happen to not have made it onto the album—i.e. The Curtain, Whispers) that explore the idea of the frustrating silence we so often get from God. In other songs, I looked at my own part in that silence. In this one, I wanted to bring life to the dialogue between God and man rather than just talk about it. So I wrote it in such a way that one voice lyrically represents that of God and the other voice lyrically represents that of man. Simply, it is a conversation.

I think that I am so fascinated by this idea of the voice of God because I hear so often about people’s frustrations with NOT hearing it. However, I am so convinced that it is not at all about whether or not God is speaking but it IS about whether or not we are listening. As I examined my own heart, I realized that usually one of two things happen in regards to dialoguing with God.

1. I get myself so disgustingly busy with life that I drown out His voice, give Him no time in my schedule, and then complain that He is not speaking to me.

2. I humble myself before Him, ask Him to speak, and He does! But, naturally, obedience to an invisible God scares me because it often costs something, so I choose to ignore His voice altogether…and then complain again that He is not speaking to me.

While other songs of mine explore the first response, Tonight looks at the second one. This idea of surrender. I am not very good at it. In fact, I love the words of Oswald Chambers that point to the idea of daily surrender; it is a constant endeavor. And, as Paul says, most of the time I WANT to give up the rights to myself, and I do give up some of them. But, as soon as it really costs something, I clinch my fist and claim what is mine, for I won’t give in that easily. Thankfully, I serve a patient God who is good at constantly calling me to Him…constantly singing over me. Now, it is my turn to show up and say, “Here I am”.

Anna Long