The God Who Sings

Nobody in their right mind would willingly eat poison. Yet every day, countless people consume things that harm them—not because they want to, but because the poison comes disguised as something good.

This truth extends far beyond our physical diet. It reaches into the deepest chambers of our spiritual lives, where we often consume beliefs, practices, and priorities that slowly erode our relationship with God. We mix the sacred with the profane, blend truth with lies, and end up with something that looks like faith but carries the toxicity of idolatry.

When Good Things Become Dangerous
The story of Halloween offers a fascinating glimpse into this spiritual mixing. What began as All Hallows' Eve—the night before All Saints' Day—started as a Christian alternative to pagan festivals. The medieval church created this holy day to honor believers who had gone before, to celebrate the victory of Christ over darkness.

But over time, something happened. Pagan practices crept in. What was meant to be a remembrance became entangled with rituals that had nothing to do with the gospel. By the 16th century, the church had strayed so far that practices like praying to saints and purchasing indulgences—essentially buying favor with God—had become commonplace.

On October 31, 1517, Martin Luther recognized this spiritual poison for what it was. He posted his 95 Theses on the church door in Wittenberg, challenging the mixture of truth and falsehood that had infiltrated Christian practice. His act sparked the Protestant Reformation, calling God's people back to the pure gospel of grace.

Luther's courage reminds us that poison doesn't always look dangerous. Sometimes it's wrapped in religious language, mixed with sincere intentions, and served alongside genuine truth.

The Ancient Warning
The prophet Zephaniah faced a similar crisis in 7th century Judah. During the reign of King Josiah, God's people had fallen into a complex web of false worship. Zephaniah's message was urgent and severe:

"I will stretch out my hand against Judah and all who live in Jerusalem. I will destroy every remnant of Baal worship in this place, the very names of the idolatrous priests, those who bow down on the roofs to worship the starry host, those who bow down and swear by the Lord and who also swear by Moloch, those who turn back from following the Lord and neither seek the Lord nor inquire of him." (Zephaniah 1:4-6)

Notice the three levels of false worship Zephaniah identifies:

First, there were those who openly bowed to false gods—worshiping Baal and Moloch, even sacrificing their children in fire. This was blatant idolatry, impossible to miss.

Second, there were those who mixed their worship—swearing by the Lord while also swearing by Moloch. They wanted God's blessing but refused to let go of their other sources of security and meaning. This was buffet Christianity: taking a little of this, a little of that, creating a custom religion that required no real surrender.

Third, there were those who claimed to follow God but never actually sought Him. They had turned back from pursuing the Lord. Their faith had grown lukewarm, stagnant like old wine. They didn't bow to idols, but they didn't seek God either—and in that vacuum, false gods quietly took control.

The Complexity of Modern Idolatry
We might think we're immune to such obvious idolatry. After all, we don't bow to statues or sacrifice children to Moloch. But idolatry is far more subtle than we imagine.

Idolatry is seeking ultimate fulfillment, security, happiness, or meaning in anything apart from God.

As Paul wrote in Romans 1:25: "They exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator."

This exchange happens in countless ways:
Most Christian men wouldn't visit certain clubs, but they'll spend hours scrolling through social media feeds that fuel lust and dissatisfaction.

Most Christian women wouldn't have an affair, but they'll binge romance novels or TV shows that feed discontent with their marriages or singleness.

Most Christians wouldn't attend a Buddhist temple, but they'll blend mindfulness meditation practices with Scripture reading, mixing spiritual disciplines God never prescribed.

Most Christians wouldn't join extremist rallies, but they'll follow influencers who stoke ethnic pride and division.

The pattern is always the same: we wouldn't drink pure poison, but mix it with something good, and we'll consume it without question.

The Telltale Signs
How do we know when we've fallen into this trap? Listen for these phrases in your own heart:

"I worship the Lord AND my career." "I worship the Lord AND my political identity." "I worship the Lord AND my ethnic pride." "I worship the Lord AND my romantic relationship." "I worship the Lord AND my financial security."

Anytime we say "the Lord and..." we've revealed a divided heart. We've mixed worship. We've added poison to something good.

The Song That Saves
Here's the breathtaking truth: God doesn't leave us in our idolatry. He pursues us. He calls us back. And He does it through the most unexpected means—He sings over us.

Zephaniah's prophecy doesn't end with judgment. It ends with this stunning promise:

"The Lord your God is with you, the mighty warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you. In his love, he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing." (Zephaniah 3:17)

Read that again. The God of the universe—the Creator, the Judge, the Mighty Warrior—takes delight in you. Not in the version of you that you wish you could be. Not in the you that finally gets it all together. But in you, right now, with all your failures and false worship and mixed-up priorities.

And He rejoices over you with singing.

This is the expulsive power of a new affection. We don't overcome idolatry by trying harder to resist the old songs of destruction. We overcome them by hearing the new song—God's song of delight over us.

His love is the sweetness that's actually sweet, the promise that actually delivers, the security that never fails.

The Response That Changes Everything
When King Josiah heard Zephaniah's message, he didn't make excuses. He didn't defend the mixed worship of his day. Instead, he led a reformation. He tore down the altars on the temple roof. He smashed the idols to pieces. He called God's people back to the pure worship of the Lord.

But here's what made it possible: Josiah had first heard God's song of grace. He knew he was loved. He knew he was forgiven. And from that place of security, he could let go of the false securities he'd been clinging to.

The same is true for us. We can release our idols—our mixed worship, our lukewarm faith, our divided hearts—because we've heard a better song. We've discovered that God Himself is singing over us, calling us His beloved children, wiping away our tears, removing the things that promise peace but bring only destruction.

The poison loses its appeal when we've tasted something truly good. The siren songs of destruction fall silent when we hear the Father's lullaby of grace.

So today, will you seek the Lord? Will you turn from the mixed worship that's crept into your life? Will you stop long enough to hear the song He's singing over you?

Because He's singing. Right now. Over you.