The Soundtrack of a battle cry

debbiemcninch
1 hour ago
6 min read

I recently attended the 30th Anniversary Third Day Reunion Tour.

Now, Third Day has been my favorite band—and a huge part of my life—for, well... 30 years. So many memories are tied to their music: listening to albums on repeat, attending concerts, meeting friends, and worshipping the King.

I am unwilling to publicly admit exactly how many times I've seen them live, so let's just round it off to "a lot."

My first opportunity to see them live was back in 1997. A friend in Texas had attended their concert the night before and called me, insisting that I had to catch their next stop in Wichita. At the time, I had little kids, was pregnant with my third child, and somehow a concert didn't seem like the responsible thing to do.

I laugh at that now.

Little did I know what I was missing.

It would not be until around 2003 that I finally saw them live.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Waiting for the Reunion

I had been anticipating this reunion tour for a year.

The tour kicked off in the spring, but I still had to wait for my concert dates to arrive. I faithfully followed every post, every setlist, every photo of fellow Gomers, and every tour update with great anticipation.

I pulled out every Third Day concert T-shirt I had ever purchased and smiled at the memories attached to each one. I was downright giddy. My concert stop could not get here fast enough.

In the weeks leading up to the shows, I made a vow to listen through their entire discography. Album after album awakened beautiful memories. I found myself reflecting on where I lived when each record was released, where I worked, what season of faith I was walking through, and what my family looked like at the time.

More than anything, I thought about parenting.

I could tell you exactly what stage of family life we were in with each album. I remembered singing those songs over my children, praying them over their futures, and believing God for things I could not yet see.

Without realizing it, this music had become the soundtrack of my adult life.

At the time, they were just songs. Looking back now, I can clearly see how God was pouring His Word into me through every lyric, every season, and every circumstance. Seeds were being planted that I wouldn't need to grow for 25 years.

When the Songs Hit Different

The morning of the first concert—and yes, the first concert, because of course I was attending more than one show, I woke up feeling an emotion I had not expected.

I was emotional.

Not just excited.

Reflective.

The reality was impossible to ignore …things do not look like the dreams and prayers I prayed over my family all those years ago.

Every song represented a milestone. Every album carried hopes, dreams, and expectations about what my family would become, what my future would look like, and who I thought I would be.

Never would I have imagined the road ahead.

I did not know my family would be broken in the way it is today. I did not know some dreams would die, others would change, and many would feel forever out of reach.

As the concert began and the songs unfolded one after another, I realized something.

The lyrics were not just lyrics anymore. They had become prophetic declarations I had been singing over my life for 30 years. They were not simply words on a page. They were promises of God, burned deep into my spirit.

Every song had become a deposit of truth. Truth so deeply rooted that one familiar guitar note could bring back every lyric and reconnect me to the God I have loved and served through every season.

I was not singing from memory.

I was singing from my spirit.

The words flowed out of me as worship --forged through decades of faith, disappointment, hope, heartbreak, and perseverance.

The Theology We Didn't Know We Were Learning

Maybe you know exactly what I am talking about. Maybe you have looked back at dreams from 30 years ago and wondered where they went...

The family you thought you would have.

The future that once seemed so bright.

The picture you painted that now looks nothing like your reality.

Maybe the first time you heard Cry Out to Jesus, it sounded like a beautiful song.

But now...

Now you know what it means to Cry out to Jesus.

Now you have been on the bathroom floor, crying out to God to fix your mess.

Now you cried until there were no tears left.

Now you have begged God to rescue your child and heal your family.

The songs are not poetry anymore.

They are survival.

They are promises.

They are reminders from the throne room of Heaven that God is still working even when we can't see it.

You didn't waste those years singing those songs.

You were planting theology deep within your heart.

You were storing up truth for a future battle.

And now, in the hardest moments, that truth has been called forth to speak to your mountain.

Worship From Poverty

In Mark 12:41-44, Jesus watched people giving offerings at the temple.

Many gave out of their abundance. But for one widow, all she had was two small coins.

Jesus said she gave more than everyone else because she gave out of her poverty. She gave all she had.

That is how I view worship now.

It is easy to sing when life is good. It is easy to raise your hands when your family is whole.

But if you have a broken heart? When your child is far from God?

When your prayers seem unanswered?

Worship becomes an offering from poverty.

Some days all I have is my hallelujah. And I have discovered that is enough.

The Faithfulness of God

Last month, I attended the final Third Day show at Red Rocks.

I had attended the previous two Red Rocks shows and thought I knew what to expect...perfect venue, great music, and an unforgettable night of worship under the stars.

I was wrong.

I was not prepared to be tearing up after the first song was over as Michael W. Smith kicked off the evening. Something shifted in me from the moment of the first note. My heart came alive and the joy of my heart was now running down my face.

The tears were not flowing out of sadness. They were a cleansing flow coming from the depths of my hidden pain. They were flowing from the pure sunshine of the spirit of God, shining on the dark places of my heart. The presence of God was tangible in that place in a way I can hardly describe. His light had reached places in me that I had hidden for years.

The entire night felt like a testimony to God's faithfulness. It was Zephaniah 3:17 coming alive. I knew... I KNEW he was rejoicing over me with singing.

One of my favorite moments came when Mac Powell retold the story of how the band began.

After a wildly successful start with their first band, Nuclear Hoedown—and on a side note, I still think someone needs to interview Merry Turner about that famous birthday party gig—we were reminded that God asked Mac to lay down his own dreams and expectations for what his music career would look like.

Because of that obedience, Third Day was born.

Thirty years to the day after releasing their first album, they stood on one of the greatest stages in the world celebrating what God had done with a fully devoted YES!

Only God.

As I listened, one question kept echoing in my heart:

If God was faithful to Mac, could I trust Him with my family?

Could I lay down my expectations?

Could I surrender my timeline?

Could I trust Him with the outcome?

Ashes Into Beauty

Maybe that is the question you're asking too. Can God really take ashes and make something beautiful?

I believe He can.

It may take longer than we want.

It may take the rest of our lives.

Some promises may not be fully realized on this side of Heaven.