Have you ever heard a song that instantly lifts your spirits and makes you want to move? For me, Mary Mary’s “Shackles (Praise You)” is that song. It’s one of those tracks that just gets into your soul and makes you want to dance and praise, truly embodying the feeling of shaking “Shackles Off My Feet So I Can Dance.” I hadn’t heard it in ages and honestly, it had slipped my mind until recently.
I was at a skating rink with my son Sawyer the other day, and it just so happened to be Christian music night. When “Shackles” started playing, pure joy washed over me. As a young person, I loved the song simply because it was upbeat, happy, and had a great sound. It made me smile and want to move. But listening to it now, as an adult who has weathered a few storms, the song carries a much deeper resonance. It’s not just about a catchy tune; it’s about finding liberation and praise even when life feels heavy.
The week leading up to that skating rink moment had been exceptionally tough. It felt like Murphy’s Law in action – anything and everything that could go wrong, did. Good news was nowhere to be found. We had planned a much-anticipated hiking and camping trip in the Smoky Mountains, a place Sawyer adores, especially tent camping. But then, the rain came, relentless and unwavering, washing away our tent plans. Determined to salvage our getaway, we pivoted to Pigeon Forge. However, our vacation started with a jolt – on the very first day, amidst the thrills of an alpine coaster, I managed to lose my debit card. Panic set in. How was I supposed to navigate a vacation with no access to funds? My mood plummeted, casting a shadow over what was meant to be a joyful escape.
Returning home didn’t bring relief. Instead, I was greeted by a flat tire on my car. The next morning, attempting to get to work, my car became hopelessly stuck in the mud of my own driveway. Humiliation mixed with frustration as I had to call a wrecker service to pull me out. Then came the news about my dad being admitted to the hospital with a severe UTI. It felt like one blow after another. Nothing seemed to be going right, and the weight of these setbacks felt like heavy shackles, holding me down.
The realization of the lost debit card sent me into a frenzy. I tore apart the car, retraced my steps meticulously, but it was nowhere to be found. The last possible location was the alpine coaster. When I inquired about it, the attendant’s words were discouraging, comparing the search to finding a needle in a haystack. Anyone who’s ever lost something on a ride knows the near impossibility of recovery. It felt like accepting defeat.
On the way back to the coaster, anxiety was bubbling up. The thought of being stranded without money, especially in another state, was overwhelming. Seeing my distress, my seven-year-old son, Sawyer, turned to me with a simple yet profound statement: “Mommy, you just have to have a little faith.” Together, we rode the coaster again, this time on a mission. While I was internally resigned to the loss, Sawyer’s childlike faith was unwavering.
As we ascended the first hill of the coaster, a glimmer of hope appeared. There, on the walkway, was my debit card. Reaching for it proved futile at that speed. But as we reached the ride’s end, my dad exclaimed, “The man behind you has it!” The rider behind us had seen me reaching and had picked it up as he passed. Relief and gratitude washed over me, and I spontaneously hugged the kind stranger. Sawyer, with a triumphant grin, simply said, “See Mommy, you just had to have faith.” Finding that card on a roller coaster seemed like a miracle, a testament to the power of faith, especially as demonstrated by a child. In that moment, my seven-year-old taught me a powerful lesson about believing even when circumstances seem impossible.
This experience became a turning point. I began to shift my perspective, focusing on the good that still existed and how much worse things could have been. We missed camping, yes, but we still enjoyed a beautiful hike that led us to an old Missionary Baptist Church in Cades Cove. There, we were treated to the soul-stirring harmonies of an incredibly talented family, singing hymns in the heart of the mountains. Watching Sawyer stand and sing “I’ll Fly Away” with them made the entire trip worthwhile. The flat tire? A minor inconvenience, considering I work at a tire shop and could easily get it fixed. Getting stuck in the driveway was embarrassing, but Quinn Wrecker came to the rescue, pulling my car out without any damage. Mrs. Robin, one of the owners, embraced me warmly, offering prayers and support – a gesture of kindness that I deeply needed and appreciated. And most importantly, my dad returned home from the hospital, recovering well. As a devoted “daddy’s girl,” his hospitalization had been incredibly frightening. But it could have been far more serious, and I felt a sense of gratitude for God’s protective hand in it all.
Shortly after our return, a text message from my mom arrived, a simple yet powerful encouragement: she urged me to raise my hands in praise, reminding me that I don’t need anyone’s permission to do so. Her words resonated deeply. I realized how often I felt judged for my past, but I yearned to praise God regardless. It felt like I had been bound by “shackles” of negativity and worry from all the recent troubles. But in that moment, I made a conscious decision to lift my hands and praise Him anyway. No matter what we face, faith in God can carry us through. We need to praise Him despite, or even because of, our circumstances.
The lyrics of “Shackles” became even more meaningful:
“In the Corners of my mind, I just can’t seem to find
a reason to believe that I can break free, cause you see
I’ve been down for so long, feel like all hope is gone,
but as I lift my hands, I understand that
I should praise Him through my circumstance.”
These words encapsulate the essence of finding freedom amidst hardship. The song is a powerful reminder that praise isn’t just for the mountaintop moments; it’s especially potent in the valleys. It’s about breaking free from the “shackles” of fear, doubt, and negativity, allowing yourself to dance in faith and gratitude.
I encourage everyone to embrace this liberating power of praise. Lose those shackles that bind you. They don’t have to hold you forever. Let the spirit of “shackles off my feet so I can dance” become your anthem, guiding you to find joy and freedom in faith, no matter what life throws your way.
