A few weeks ago I attended a worship night at my parents' church. As the worship leader prayed to open the service, he said something that stuck with me long after that evening:
"Lord, let your love be loud tonight."
You see, loud, is something that resonates with me. I'm a loud person. I have a loud family, a loud house, a loud life. I think out loud. I feel out loud. I talk loudly, laugh loudly. But as natural as loud is for me, sometimes it's still too much, and I get overwhelmed by the noise around me.
The prayer that night was that no one would leave the church without hearing from God. We wanted God's spirit to come and have us hear -- loud and clear -- that we are loved. It was the prayer for that moment, but as I thought about it more, I realized it's also a necessary prayer for me every day.
If I am going to hear God's voice over the clamor of my life, it needs to be loud. Louder than the whining and neediness of toddlers. Louder than the wailing of an infant. Louder than the demands of clients. Louder than the buzzes and pings of my phone. Louder than the complaints of coworkers and the rants of Facebook friends. Louder than the laugh tracks of my "must see" TV. It needs to cut through the literal noise that starts at dawn, and ends...well...sometimes, close to dawn.
But I also need God's loud love to combat the muttering that is the soundtrack to my heart and mind. I need His message of love to be louder than my mommy guilt. Louder than my worry. Louder than the constant drone of busyness -- the rhythm of going, going, going. Louder than the "I can do it on my own", but also louder than the "I'm not good enough."
I need God to shout His love over me. To yell truth into my life. To rise above all the other noise that competes for my attention, and to overpower all the lies and fears and anxieties that play internally on repeat.
That was the worship pastor's prayer for his church that night, and now it is my prayer for myself...and for you:
Lord, let your love be loud in our lives.
Loud enough for us to hear you,
and louder still as we learn to echo you.