Like a stone press
You crush me
To no more
Like an olive
I give you
– Painful Prayer
Not many people know that I love music. I like it just as much as I like running, and painting, and writing, probably even more. One of the things I miss most is having a piano at home. I used to play everyday, as soon as I woke up, when I got home, after dinner, I’d just let it all out and say everything I wanted to. There was even a time when I took up the violin, which is my second favorite instrument. A violin is like a woman. It has no frets, so you’re always feeling your way. Play her wrong and she squeaks painfully. Hehe. Just kidding. Maybe not.
I was never good with a violin, but I’m sure I can still scratch out an ugly Great is Thy Faithfulness. I love that song. I loved that song as a child, but now that I’m older, now that I understand, I cling on to its truth to get through each day.
When the artificial support systems of our life are removed, when the things we trusted in are disappearing, when the saviors we hoped for disappoint, and the dreams of our hearts seem more distant than ever, as our circumstances and our own sins blow us further into a hostile open sea, it’s always good to hold on to that the anchoring truth of the faithfulness of God.
It’s easy to lose sight of this. It’s easy to miss a lot of things.
But on most nights, when I settle down to write, I can hear many things the hustle of a busy day masks. The low hum of the ceiling lights, the spinning fan of the exhaust, the slow swaying of full-length blinds, and the beating of my anxious heart, all clearly moving to an eclectic melody that is my life.
And what a grand symphony exists: my melody, with yours, and the guard’s in the lobby, and the little girl’s, who’s hearing her mother’s own melody as she is kissed goodnight, mixed in with the melodies of six billion lives, all timed to the beats of six billion hearts, available for us to enjoy when we simply take the time to listen.
Sometimes, when I don’t know what I want to listen to, when I can’t think of the perfect song, when there’s no piano within reach, I just lie down on my bed, hands behind my head, and listen. And again, I am reminded, what a grand symphony exists.