As I said in my previous post, I have enjoyed endless hours of musical fun since Thursday night. And even though I struggled with my musical inadequacies, I got to the place of understanding that my music is a gift from God and one that I can use to be able to praise Him. I was pleased with my conclusion, but unfortunately the enemy couldn't just leave well enough alone. I resumed my musical fun today but found myself really struggling with the flute. I ended up in tears and then dismantled my flute and put it away rather forcefully.
Before you decide my response is bit too dramatic, consider my history of flute playing. Although I see myself as a pianist today, 25 years ago I considered myself a better flutist than a pianist. I took some lessons for a few months in the 5th grade and then played in band for a little while. I also played in my dad's orchestra; I can't remember how often. I played, periodically, for church stuff and at school programs in high school. I wasn't a concert flutist or anything but I liked my clear tone and smooth vibrato; it made a classy and pleasant sound. Music doesn't need to be fancy to be enjoyable, you know? It just needs to be beautiful and restful. So I was always comfortable playing my flute and I enjoyed it quite a bit. I always said it was easier than the piano because I was only responsible for one note at a time. But then one day, my senior year in high school, I was playing for some church I was visiting. The pianist did her little intro and then it was time for me to play. But no sound came out. Nothing. My fluting lips were suddenly broken. I remember feeling like I was suddenly on fire; it got very warm very fast. Here I was, standing up front, I knew practically no one in that church and my flute wouldn't make a sound. I stopped the pianist and asked her to begin again. I wanted to die. She started again and I played my piece. But after that song, I put my flute away and didn't use it again for a long time because I had been so mortified.
Two years later, I can't imagine what possessed me to do this, but I decided I didn't want to live with the fear of playing in front of others so I signed up to play for the talent show my sophomore year in college. I practiced a fun, cheerful, yet challenging, piece and felt pretty good about it. I stood backstage waiting to go up in front of the entire college campus and suddenly got sick to my stomach. I quickly realized this was not what I wanted to do. I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and then go home. I played my song quite well, actually, but I was so sick about it that I realized there was absolutely no reason for me to subject myself to this again. It brought me zero joy to feel this sick about playing. I put my flute away again for another 5 years. I played a few songs with a flute quartet 5 years later and enjoyed that because I was the quiet little flutist that played the low notes in the quartet and if I messed up and no sound came out, no one would care. After that, the flute stayed in its case for 15 years.
And for the last couple of months, as I have the privilege to put more music in my life, I can remember. I remember how I used to play. I remember how much I actually enjoyed it. I remembered all the good things and had forgotten all about the bad memories. But today, when I picked up my flute to play the Spanish Love Song, the sound hardly came out of it. All my memories came flooding back and I tried to get past them. I readjusted my mouthpiece, wiped off my lips and tried again. Nothing good. I tried a few more times and then finally found my tone and finished the song, lingering on that last clear high D. But by then I was in tears. I couldn't believe I thought I could just pick up the flute, after all these years and that I would have any skill. Besides, even if I can play, the sound just doesn't come out sometimes! I suddenly didn't want to play anymore, ever. I was not a flutist. I was just a person who used to play the flute. I put everything away and went into the kitchen to chop some cabbage. As I chopped, I talked to God about my discouragement and Psalm 98 kind of appeared in my mind's eye. Psalm 98, huh, I thought to myself, What is this? Some "special" message from God about making music or something? Yeah, right.
As my cabbage steamed, I sat down at my computer to journal for a while and was reminded about Psalm 98. "Fine," I said out loud. "I'll read it." I opened Chrome and started to type Psalm 98 into my search engine. But was suddenly interrupted. Read it in the paper Bible came the strong prompting.
"Whatever," I grumbled, as I got up to stir the cabbage. "Fine. Okay. I'll read it in the actual paper Bible. As if."
You see, I doubted that this prompting came from God. I thought that it was just my stupid head. I do believe God prompts and speaks to our spirits, but in that moment, I was angry and self-focused on my own inadequacies and not especially open to God's voice.
I finally opened my Bible and found Psalm 98 at the bottom right hand side of the Bible. Only the first half of the first verse was visible on that page. Sing to the Lord a new song, for He has done marvelous things.
I had to laugh; a sad little tearful laugh. Okay, God, I thought to myself, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I needed this. I really did. But why in the paper Bible?
I glanced across the open Bible and caught brief glimpses of Psalm 95. Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord. And Psalm 96. Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise His name... For great is the Lord and most worthy of praise.
Wow, okay. I felt I was being encouraged for sure. But apparently I was being encouraged to sing. So maybe putting my instruments away was the right thing. Maybe God was saying, Hey now, I know you used to play the instruments but now you can do a new kind of song; sing a song, instead.
Well, that's sad because I love my instruments. But I suppose if I'm not cut out for using them, then it's better to know that now, right? As encouraging as the passages were, I couldn't get past the fact that all David talked about was singing.
But then I flipped over the page and read the rest of Psalm 98 and found this: Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth, burst into jubilant song with music; make music to the Lord with the harp , with the harp and the sound of singing, with trumpets and the blast of the ram's horn - shout for joy before the Lord, the King... let them sing before the Lord.
I had to laugh again. It's almost like God was saying, Oh my dear, you are so painfully dense. I don't want you to put away your instruments. I want you to use them. Sing to me as a gift to me. A gift is so much more fun when it can be shared and when sharing it means we give a piece of ourselves to the other person. Music is a part of me I give to you. When you give it back to me, it returns with part of you. It's like the ultimate gift! So stop this nonsense of listening to the enemy's disparaging opinions; he's only trying to stifle you. Pick up your instruments and play for me.
It was a beautiful moment I shared with God. There were smiles and tears and this overwhelming feeling of gratitude. I can't wrap my head around the idea that the supreme King of Universe would send me such a gracious message about making music when I'm not even that talented. He must REALLY want His people to make music! I get the feeling that there's something in it that feeds Him and not just us.
If you were a musician, can you imagine what it would be like if you lost your sense of hearing? Just the thought of that makes me want to die inside. My heart grieves for Beethoven because I can't begin to comprehend his sorrow at the loss of his hearing. Just awful. What if that's what it's like for God?
I have mentioned, before, that there is a commonly accepted belief that Lucifer was the music director in heaven. (Ezekiel 28; Isaiah 14) What if... when he was banished from heaven, all the music stopped? Crazy thought, huh? And yet, there are Biblical scholars that claim that the angels do not sing. (do your own research; there's a lot out there.) There is no mention in the Bible of angels singing. They shout and proclaim but there is no record of them actually singing. What if we are God's only producers of music right now? What if we are fulfilling a sacred role by allowing ourselves to be instruments for God? Whoa, that's just a beautiful thought. And kind of scary awesome, when you really think about it.
I think there has to be some truth to it. After all, why else would He graciously guide me into those wonderful passages about music? It's not just for my sorry little self. There has to be more to it...
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