Then I looked, and behold, the Lamb [was] standing on Mount Zion, and with Him one hundred and forty-four thousand, having His name and the name of His Father written on their foreheads. And I heard a voice from heaven, like the sound of many waters and like the sound of loud thunder, and the voice which I heard [was] like [the sound] of harpists playing on their harps. And they sang a new song before the throne and before the four living creatures and the elders; and no one could learn the song except the one hundred and forty-four thousand who had been purchased from the earth.
Revelation 14:1–3 NASB
The ninth anniversary of our sweet Sarah’s earthly death is in five days. As the heavy missing and longing of her absence are uniquely stirred by its looming arrival, Revelation 14:1-3 has been echoing in my mind and heart—verse 3 in particular: “And they sang a new song… and no one could learn the song except the one hundred and forty-four thousand who had been purchased from the earth.”
Throughout Scripture, from the song of Moses in Deuteronomy to the song of the Lamb in Revelation, God repeatedly beckons and challenges His children to know Him and to make Him known through song.1
The Psalms are our tried-and-true treasury of divinely inspired songs to guide and sustain us through every life circumstance. Yet throughout the Psalms, we are repeatedly implored to sing a “new song,” particularly in the ashes of suffering.2
In pondering the significance of the 144,000 singing a new song no one else could learn, I’ve come to wonder if perhaps we who are bereaved might also sing a unique anthem we alone know.
Prior to Sarah’s death, I could not have sung the song I now sing. Though I believed some of its truths, my singing them would have been merely a proclamation of intellectual affirmation. Yet nine years later, having painfully trod the dark, shadowed valley of death, my new song resounds from fire-forged experience engraved in the depths of my soul.
Though the lyrics of experience may vary among the bereaved, our individual songs rise in harmony through chords of truth resonating from the shared experience of those who have both clung to Christ and been held by Him through death’s dark valley.3
Chords of enduring love lead our song—His perfect love for us, and then ours for Him, frail as it may be—but also our enduring, never-lessening love for those we longingly wait to see.4
Treasured memories, unfulfilled longings, and devastating loss repeatedly strike the low chord of shattering sorrow, reverberating through our souls.
The chord of shattering sorrow is echoed by the chord of desperate need as the weight of sorrow reveals our weakness and our insufficiency.
The chord of His tender mercy soon sounds, rich and full, compassionately melding into beauty the still reverberating low tones of sorrow and of need.5
Tender mercy is quickly joined by the chord of unfailing hope—a constant heralding tone reminding us that the crescendo is neither past nor present, but yet to sound.6
Chords of unfailing hope secured by His unwavering faithfulness heighten our song, though sometimes muted by the forgetfulness and frailty of our flesh.7
Sorrowful tones rise from hearts too prone to wander, swiftly joined by the triumphal chords of His redeeming grace.8
Each chord continually resounding in perfect harmony—enduring love, shattering sorrow, desperate need, tender mercy, unfailing hope, and redeeming grace—our song, in rich, full sound, climaxes with the final jubilant chord: joy inexpressible and full of glory, a foretaste here, there to be made complete.9
In just a little while, we all, like the 144,000, will gather round the throne. Hand in hand with our loved ones we have waited so long to hold, we will lift our songs in perfection to Him. Maybe they will be sung in rounds so we can savor the fullness of each song. Or perhaps we will all burst forth singing simultaneously—a rapturous polyphony.10
Whatever the case, I am challenged afresh. Lord, train and restrain this fragile heart of mine to faithfully sing the costly yet priceless song of the bereaved—until that glorious day.
Though our lyrics may vary, may we all faithfully lift our voices together in harmony, singing our new song to Him—to know Him and to make Him known—now and forevermore.
Come, Lord Jesus.
I waited patiently for the LORD;
And He inclined to me and heard my cry.
He brought me up out of the pit of destruction,
out of the miry clay,
And He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God;
Many will see and fear And will trust in the LORD.
Let all who seek You rejoice and be glad in You;
Let those who love Your salvation say continually,
“The LORD be magnified!”
Since I am afflicted and needy,
Let the Lord be mindful of me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
Do not delay, O my God.
Psalm 40:1–3; 16–17 NASB95
Artwork By Sarah Harmening
Listening to Him 