I am being matured. I really dislike it. But sometimes you do what you know God is telling you to do. Even if it’s not glamorous. Even if it doesn’t look practical. Even if He doesn’t confirm every step along the way with miraculous signs and wonders.
We know that it’s “a wicked and perverse generation that seeks after a sign,” but we do it all the time anyway.
I sat at my piano last night and realized that my ability to love God is based wholly in my understanding of His love for me. I love Him “because He first loved us.” So if my only understanding of God’s love is His saving grace, then I will only love Him enough to be saved. Loving God more means coming to a revelation of how much more He loves me (first). It’s a lovely thought that I put to a mediocre chord progression.
And then I pulled out the old Mozart Urtext I used to frequent. I stared at the pages of pieces I used to perform and could not begin to imagine how I must have done it. People sometimes ask about your biggest regret, and I could never really think of one until last night. My life’s biggest regret is that I left ten+ years of training to rot. Maybe it wasn’t God’s plan, and maybe it is for the best, and maybe that’s a really worldly biggest regret … but I’m really unhappy with myself for it.
So there. It’s not prose (except, perhaps, for that bit of intentional alliteration), but today I’m tired of prose. I’m tired of sensual language and passionate declarations that do nothing more than make for good reading. I’m tired of spewing my spirit in HTML and considering it satisfied.
Tomorrow I’ll probably disagree.
