It’s a song that will never be sung again in the same way. A melody that nobody can capture. With lyrics nobody will ever write down.

Yet the song is heard.

In the tremble of the storm, the melody is recognized.

In the sanctuary of the echo-filled pavillion, the lyrics are recorded.

Behind a sky full of fears and exhaustion and searching and insecurities and deeply-buried hurts lies the sun and moon and stars.

Beyond that, their maker listens.

The song starts with the motion of footsteps. They shuffle in a circle.

Then one voice begins to sing. Low, sparse, barely heard. Yet moments later, another voice joins in. This one is lighter, higher, more articulate.

They sing different lyrics.

Another voice joins in. Then another. Then another.

And the symphony begins to play together. So many singers, so many tones and styles. All sharing something different. Yet together, it’s this beautiful river song that glides along and offers a cool respite from a hot and humid day.

These voices, their words, and the hearts behind them are all known.

Young hearts speaking out for old souls. Coming together under one roof for one reason. This reason. This purpose.

The talk of craft and the camaraderie suddenly feel insignificant.

These young lives take a moment to sing out a jubilant song before God. One of praise. One of petition. Thanking God. Asking God for blessings.

The song is for you and for the other adults in the center. The ones with the closed eyes and the wet cheeks. The ones finding it hard to breathe because they feel so blessed.

This is love song. It’s a known song. It’s beautiful. It’s for the broken sung by the broken.

On a stormy Friday night in a camp tucked away in the Kentucky hills, the students loved and prayed over suddenly turn the tables and do the same to you.

You suddenly feel in the middle of a tornado full of hope.

It’s an amazing moment—this beautiful song—this chance to be poured into—these voices all singing in a unified spirit.

Some songs are love unknown. Messy melodies created then discarded for something better. But tonight, the song is very much known.

The maker of music smiles and knows and loves.

You’ve spent the week trying to tell and show others something. But now they’ve turned the tables and done the same thing to you.

This song being sung. It forces you to accept something. To finally believe it.

You are a true masterpiece. And you are very much loved.

Grateful and humbled and breathless, you open your eyes at the end of the melody to see a snapshot of yourself as a teenager.

No storm nor cloud nor season will ever prevent your Father from hearing songs like this.

It’s taken you so many years to continue to know and believe this. Yet the beautiful thing is that some of these young faces in front you have already learned this.

You will never forget this song sung on a stormy night.

God won’t either.