The Sound of Awakening
- Rose Lee-Norman
- 2 hours ago
- 5 min read
A Reflection for Monday, March 9 by Rev. Dr. Rose Lee-Norman
Lectionary reading for 3/9/26: Psalm 81; Genesis 24:1-27; 2 John 1:1-13
Selected passage for reflection: Psalm 81
Read
Psalm 81 (NIV)
Sing for joy to God our strength; shout aloud to the God of Jacob! Begin the music, strike the timbrel, play the melodious harp and lyre.
Sound the ram’s horn at the New Moon, and when the moon is full, on the day of our festival; this is a decree for Israel, an ordinance of the God of Jacob. When God went out against Egypt, he established it as a statute for Joseph.
I heard an unknown voice say:
“I removed the burden from their shoulders; their hands were set free from the basket. In your distress, you called, and I rescued you; I answered you out of a thundercloud; I tested you at the waters of Meribah. Hear me, my people, and I will warn you—if you would only listen to me, Israel! You shall have no foreign god among you; you shall not worship any god other than me. I am the Lord your God, who brought you up out of Egypt. Open wide your mouth, and I will fill it.
“But my people would not listen to me; Israel would not submit to me. So I gave them over to their stubborn hearts to follow their own devices.
“If my people would only listen to me, if Israel would only follow my ways, how quickly I would subdue their enemies and turn my hand against their foes! Those who hate the Lord would cringe before him, and their punishment would last forever. But you would be fed with the finest of wheat; with honey from the rock I would satisfy you.”
Reflect
I’ve grown to see Lent as an awakening. Not the gentle stirring kind, but the kind that calls you out of sleep. It is a season when we allow God to shake us out of numbness. It’s an invitation to be honest about injustice, suffering, and the places where fear and control shape us more than love does. Lent is an invitation to listen again to God’s beckoning voice.
Psalm 81 is an invitation to awakening. It begins in joyful song – a melodious harp, the sounding of a ram’s horn, and full-fledged celebration – remembering the God who lifts burdens and sets people free. But then the tone shifts. God laments in verse 8, “If only my people would listen to me.” The grief in the psalm is not anger alone; it is heartbreak. A longing for people to awaken to a better way, to trust the voice that leads to life instead of the instincts that lead to harm.
I live and pastor in Minneapolis, MN. And living in Minneapolis during Operation Metro Surge, I saw immense fear move through communities already carrying deep wounds. Families braced for separation. Neighbors wondered who might disappear next. Heartbreak seemed to reverberate through our community, the state, and across our country over humans being reduced to their immigration status, met by a cruel and hardened system of oppression.
But as the country and world saw, Minnesotans didn’t retreat or stay silent. There were many ways people stepped up, seeking to be good neighbors during such a tumultuous time. The extensions of love were vast and exceptionally creative. We likely all heard reports of people delivering groceries, giving rides to work and school, and keeping alert outside schools and daycares. I also know people who shared their airline miles to help people released from detention centers in Texas fly back home. I know some who drove down to Texas, not knowing anyone who was detained, but offering free rides back to Minnesota. There were marches and prayer vigils, neighborhood watch groups, and whistles distributed block by block.
I was especially moved when a group called Singing Resistance began forming marches of peaceful protesters singing songs of dissent. After church one Sunday afternoon, I decided to join them. We met in a large church and learned a few songs together. The place was packed, with hundreds who couldn’t even make it inside the church’s sanctuary. We were around 2,000 in number, and our objective was to encourage ICE agents to defect; to put down their weapons, choose humanity, and stop the cycle of harm.
Marching to hotels in downtown Minneapolis where ICE agents were staying, we sang, “It’s okay to change your mind. Show us your courage, leave this behind. And you can join us, join us anytime.” Then one song that caused tears to well up, “We walk the same road, but we’ve been torn apart. Put down your weapons, come sing your part.” As we sang these choruses in rounds, it provided a form of ventilation of hope into a season of suffocation.
Our songs were not naïve. They were an offering. We sang because we believed awakening is possible. For individuals, communities, and systems broken by sin in our world.
Psalm 81 reminds us that God desires to free all of us. A desire to liberate the oppressed from the suffering of the unjust - and the powerful from the lie that domination brings security. Lent awakens us to this deeper truth that we are more than just individuals with a personal faith, but we are a collective people called to emulate the way of Jesus, whether that’s deep concern for our neighbor (chosen or not), risky love of our enemy, or audacious hope that all broken things can be made right.
Singing in the cold streets of downtown Minneapolis, I heard in my own voice the fervent hope of the psalm: If only we would listen. If only we would turn. If only we would awaken to the God who longs to feed us “honey from the rock,” instead of the bitterness of endless cycles of harm. May we all be awakened this Lent.
For more information on Singing Resistance Twin Cities, see this article.
Respond
What needs to be awakened in your life?
Where has your hope dimmed amidst the pain and suffering in this world?
How is God inviting you to draw closer to Him and, in doing so, soften you toward your neighbor?
When fear, complacency, or cynicism seek to rob you of hope, how can you return to the promise of God’s love and restoration?
Rest
God who calls your people to listen,
Awaken us.
Awaken us to your hope, love, compassion, and justice.
Awaken us to one another.
Free us from fear and the habits of harm.
Teach us to long for honey from the rock instead of the bitterness of exclusion and suspicion of one another.
May our lives become invitations to peace, repentance, courage, and restoration.
Amen
About the Author
Rev. Dr. Rose Lee-Norman serves as Executive Pastor at Sanctuary Covenant Church in North Minneapolis, MN. She received her Doctor of Ministry from Boston University’s School of Theology and is ordained in the Evangelical Covenant Church. She teaches as adjunct faculty at Bethel University in St. Paul, MN and North Park Theological Seminary in Chicago, IL. She is married to Ryan and they have two daughters.
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