I awoke this morning to Earth, Wind and Fire’s September refrain sounding in my head. Not sure if I’m spelling it correctly but “ba de ya de ya de ya” was stuck on repeat. I thought it remarkable not least because I couldn’t remember having heard it in the past number of months, anywhere. It isn’t in my iTunes account and I don’t listen to the radio anymore—where it’s overplayed, regardless of the time of year. But I also thought it amazing as this smallest of registries bubbled up from my spirit: An answer to prayer. Nothing fancy, mind you, just a brief touchstone between God and I. While I fell in love with the song upon hearing it for the first time maybe ten years ago while my parents went through the divorce cycle, I’d since come to disdain it. Back then, however, it was a bright spot, tinged with orange, that always lifted me upon hearing. At that time, I did listen to the radio, like, all the time; something to get my mind off the misery and depression of what I was going through. I think that as my initial affection for the song began to wane and as I took to changing the station every time I heard it following along with that pattern, enough time had elapsed to where said affection for the song could have been reset. And please understand, this song came to me this morning ex nihilo—out of nothing. It was in my head when I awoke. One of those (at least, in this case, the chorus of nonsensical syllables) dream-state thoughts that clears as you climb out of bed and taste the bad breath and rub the sleep from your eyes. I should add that about three or four days ago, I sent up a very deliberate prayer to the Holy Spirit that He remind me of a latent, if forgotten, song from my past. But I wasn’t expecting this.
“Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established.” (Proverbs 16:3)
Here’s the thing about how God answers prayer. He’ll do so in a way that will surprise you. One of the curses of being earthbound, as it were, is that we always fight the natural tendency to see things lag and lose their luster and burn out. This had certainly happened with this song and if you had asked me about it, I would have answered along the lines of what you may have intuited earlier in the first paragraph: I’m still tired of it. But with the new dawn and such a quiet-but-remarkable reminder of something that had at one point in my mental space been such a bright spot, I guess I’m inclined to continue listening.
In closing, I would just like to say that God has that ability. Be it a relationship, a season, an affection—really anything that isn’t sinful—can he reimbue with His original purpose and the object’s (however abstract) intrinsic value and nature. Something only He can. Oh, and the song’s been on repeat since I started writing this post.