Most of my life I have been involved in music: piano, voice, saxophone, a little guitar. It has always been an enjoyable pursuit for me, and for a while I considered a career in the music industry.
Musicians fall along a spectrum of talent. On one end are casual players, those who pick it up to impress a girl or because they need a hobby or because they heard "Stairway to Heaven" in an elevator and have to learn how to play it. On the other end are the true virtuosos, the Van Cliburns and Pavarottis and Jimi Hendrixes. Most of us fall squarely in the middle somewhere, "tweeners" if you will.
For the tweeners, we dream of being able to play like the virtuosos. Most of us are realistic enough to know that it is a distant possibility, so we keep our hopes in check.
Every so often, though, we taste a bit of true greatness. It is hard to describe, but if you are a musician, you know what I mean. Suddenly your fingers connect with the piano, or your voice hits a tone, or the guitar begins to vibrate, and you realize that you are in the midst of a sacred moment.
The instrument takes on a life of its own and begins to sing. It feels as if God Himself is sitting next to you, His hands working the keys, breathing your voice, picking the strings. It is enough to bring you to tears. This must be what the virtuosos feel all the time, you think (perhaps naively).
I have never played golf much, but most golfers describe a similar experience when they hit the elusive "perfect shot." It reminds me of Eric Liddell (in Chariots of Fire) saying, "When I run, I feel His pleasure."
Those few, precious divine moments give me a taste of eternity while rooting me squarely in the now. Although I am weak, frail, unable to please God, unable to "manufacture" His presence through my supreme giftedness, He allows me to glimpse His glory nonetheless. Something as simple as a song, or a golf shot, or a good run can become a masterpiece of praise.
We will never achieve perfection, but we can at least have the periodic taste of heaven, serving to humble us and lift our eyes at the same time.
And that makes being a tweener not so bad after all.
4 comments:
So beautifully written, sweet Matty. And though the moment was perhaps better left between you and the LORD alone, I am so thankful that you told all of us about it. Love you!
good hoopla reference
Matt, I agree with Shannon that those moments are between you the the Lord alone; however, I think perhaps others at times witness them. I know there were times when you were singing or leading worship when I remember whispering to your dad that it seemed you were up there alone with the Lord. I wonder if that was one of those moments and His Glory shone on your countenance.
so true, yet God still loves the imperfect on this side of eternity.
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