The Conductor

Let There Be Light
Let There Be Light

 

Sing a new song to the Eternal;
sing in one voice to the Eternal, all the earth.

Sing to the Eternal of all the good things He’s done.

Psalm 96 (The Voice)

I think the ultimate instrument is the voice.

I love a lot of contemporary solo music as well as the classics. It touches my soul so often and songs play back in my head in the night. Music carries messages that comfort and challenge and lift my soul. Something marvelous happens in corporate worship when voices singing together are not drowned out by amplified instruments and a singer with a microphone.

People talk about singing a new song and a new sound arising. I wonder if the new sound is an old sound we have forgotten? The Bible speaks of God singing over us and of us responding to Him with song when we realize that He really does love us.

There is something in choral music that speaks of unity in the Spirit. How I long to hear the entire family of God joining their voices in praise to the Creator.

Sometimes, in the night, I do.

And the angels join in.

Addicted to Potential

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Creativity can be messy. The hardest part about the kids growing up and moving away was that I had no one to blame for the mess anymore. (Although one of them makes serious historically authentic bows and arrows and swords and even the most amazing costumes for his little boy, and I’ve seen the aftermath on his kitchen table. The other two are perpetual home renovators. Now that’s messy.) I have ideas for refinishing furniture, sewing, painting (in several media) cooking, writing, photography, song-writing. I pick up materials when they are on sale or available at the thrift shop. I’m kind of addicted to potential.

I really want to make leggings for the grandbaby out of recycled sweaters – wait, the baby is talking in full sentences now. Oh dear.

I finally finished a quilt this week that has been awaiting binding for several months. I took one square apart and reassembled it more than once, but now it’s done.

I’ve got a pretty good song jotted down on manuscript paper sitting on the piano – well, except for the harmony in the bridge for the accompaniment. I wrote the lyrics for that one four years ago. When the notes are all penciled in I need to enter it into the computer. I hope I can remember how. Every updated version of the music program seems to require a complete brain overhaul.

There’s a pile of potential in a trunk under my sewing table, and unframed canvases leaning on the wall. I really should entitle my recipe collection on Pinterest, “As If.”

My friend asked if I intend to live long enough to finish all these projects. Yes. As a matter of fact I do. I figure if you stop planning for the future you might as well not have one. Besides, I’ve made investments in all this raw material.

Some projects take a long time. Some of my favourite things have remained in an unfinished state for longer than I care to admit, but eventually, like the quilt, they are ready to throw on the bed in the guest room or hang on a wall. Sometimes I set things aside when I don’t like the way they are going. I’m not giving up on them, just taking time to re-think them. If you were to look in the storage bin in my closet at something under ponderment it might look like a confused mess. But in my mind I see a dozen different ways it could go. I just need to find the right one for those materials and colours. It’s a process.

Sometimes we look at people who are in process and wonder why they are taking up room in our lives. Nothing ever seems to change. They’re a mess. OK, truth is, so am I. But God sees our potential and he’s not giving up on us. He’s invested too much – and he has all the time in the world.

I Adore You

As I have been thinking about beauty and how beauty communicates truth this song by Bob Book has been going through my head. He granted me permission to combine it with a video of some of my photos and art. (Thank you, Mr. Book!)

Art, dance and music don’t have to be beautiful to communicate. Some of the most profound art is less than pleasant. Paintings and photos of suffering have often led to change. Ugly tells the story of things as they often are – out of order with God’s design, but there is something in us that craves beauty over destruction, decay and the perversion of justice. Christ came to restore the greater truth. He came to restore beauty. In all beauty there is some form of order, or “wholeness, harmony and radiance” as Barbara Nicolosi-Harrington says, which brings a sense of rest, joy, and satisfaction.

When I am wandering out in the countryside the beauty of nature communicates rest, joy and radiance to me. I see my Creator, The Eternal, who is the epitome of wholeness, harmony and radiance. It reflects His beauty and I can’t help but respond, “I adore you! How beautiful you are!”

Beauty and the Trash Can

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What is beauty? How do little children know what beauty is and why do they respond to it? Why do we create it and spend time and money looking for beauty and surrounding ourselves with it?

My little three-year old granddaughter sat on my lap as we checked out ballet dancing clips on YouTube. She has moved to music since she gained control of her tiny arms and legs. As soon as one video started she exclaimed, “Dass so boodeefo! So boodeefo!” She recognized the music. “Oh! Dass Cara and the Nutcacker! Dass so boodeefo! Again! Again!” She only got down off my lap so she could dance to the music herself. She is so boodeefo.

I took a shortcut around the back of the hotel while I was out for a walk on our recent trip to California. Near the garbage/trash/rubbish bins I saw a magnolia tree in bloom.  They don’t grow here in the Canadian Rockies and I was amazed to see such beauty hiding in such an undignified location. Like my little granddaughter’s dancing it’s blooming was not an effort to seduce me into giving it something, or serving it. It just was, and I could see the generosity of my Creator’s hand -as well as the hand of whoever planted it there.

A friend of mine, a classical pianist with a beautiful heart, left his comfortable home and career and went to Cambodia to help people recover from the horrors they had experienced during the Pol Pot regime. He asked what they needed most and was surprised when they answered, “Music!” Once their immediate needs for food and shelter had been taken care of the thing they desired most was the beauty of music. He was just the man for the job.

One of the qualities of Christ is his beauty. For most of us it’s not seen with physical eyes, not usually, unless you count his reflection in the  beauty of nature. Those who have come to know him in experience rather than theory are enthralled by his beauty, the beauty they see with their spiritual eyes. The Psalmist wrote: I am pleading with the Eternal for this one thing, my soul’s desire: To live with Him all of my days— in the shadow of His temple, to behold His beauty and ponder His ways in the company of His people. (Psalm27:4 The Voice)

Somehow we recognize beauty and respond to it. Beauty is who we are meant to be and who we are meant to be with. There is within us a discontent with the ugliness of garbage. Our hearts long to be restored back to the garden. Beauty gives us hope.

Jealousy: the Worst Form of Hate

portrait at 30

Can I tell you about a path I took that spoiled my journey for many years? Part of the purpose of this blog is to leave markers for those following. This is a big one that says “Not this way.” It will suck the joy right out of your life.

It’s a well-worn trail with many people on it. I still have to guard my instant thoughtless reaction from heading that way, but it’s a killer trap after a while. Avoid it at all costs.

It’s jealousy.

The Bible says jealousy is hate. Who can stand against it?

I don’t know where it started but I have a feeling that when I was a child and people were held up to me as examples to follow, or when others received praise and rewards, I didn’t choose to honour them, but rather wished for their downfall. I do remember being compared unfavourably to better children. “Why can’t you be more like Carolyn? She cleans her room without being told. Why can’t you be more like Mary Beth? She practises piano for hours every day and wins at the music festival. I’m sure you could do it if you tried harder. You have just as much potential.”

Carolyn and Mary Beth used to be my friends. They weren’t after that.

At the heart of jealousy is a problem with comparison and a feeling that there is not enough love, attention, reward, or acknowledgement to go around. If there is only one winner somebody has to lose. I used to wish that the perfectly groomed girl in high school, with the matching shoes and bag for every outfit, would trip and fall dramatically in a mud puddle. I wished that other singers would catch a cold before a recital or contest. Of course, I learned to smile and say polite words giving false encouragement, but the feelings inside me were ugly ugly ugly. The bizarre thing was, the more I silently wished ill on others (also known as cursing) the more often I fell in mud puddles and caught colds.

The biggest temptation for me was to hate physically attractive people. I grew up in a culture where a woman’s value was judged by her slenderness, her shiny hair, her straight white teeth and unblemished skin. I have fought a weight problem since puberty. It wasn’t until after many years of making dieting and exercise a full-time occupation (to the point of eating like an anorexic for two years but still being heavier than the charts said I should be) that I was diagnosed with an endocrine disorder that makes weight loss very difficult – and by that time I had destroyed my metabolism with years of starvation.

One day, at a church function, as I sat beside a friend giving me diet advice while she ate a cupcake with an inch of frosting, I lost it. When she lifted it to her mouth I put my hand under hers and smashed it into her slender face. It shocked everyone, but the truth is I had been smashing cupcakes into pretty women’s faces in my mind for years. I had been secretly rejoicing in the embarrassment of all sorts of accomplished people like a schadenfreude queen.

Then it happened. I reached my goal of success. I was in a relatively thin period and accomplished a difficult operatic lead role in front of an audience that included people whose opinions mattered. I could afford to be gracious and encouraging to the ladies in the chorus who gushed admiringly. I was gathering accolades along with bouquets of flowers after receiving a prolonged standing ovation with bravas! when a colleague said, “Just remember – you’re only as good as your last performance.” I saw her barely-contained jealousy and I recognized myself. After that I began to get frequent bouts of bronchitis/laryngitis and developed a horrible case of stage fright. It was downhill from there; my health became worse. The great career never happened.

Here’s the thing about success: you will gain fans but lose people you thought were friends. You will gain public criticism for peripherals (nice paintings but the wine and cheese were not the best) and you will lose family who talk about “swollen heads” and rarely give compliments – “for your own good.”

You can’t reason with jealousy. The only way to ease jealous reactions is to step down, to become less accomplished, less of a threat.

The fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and self-control) raises people up to fulfill their potential. The deeds of the flesh (sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these) pull people down. Galatians says evidence that we are not operating from Holy Spirit’s resource cache is sightings of enmity, strife, jealousy, rivalries, divisions, envy…. These are as inappropriate behaviours in a community of believers as drunken orgies! The Greek word for strife is eritheia which can mean a self-seeking desire to promote oneself with a factious partisan spirit in pursuit of political-type office. In other words power-seeking. We can have group jealousy too. Public figures are regularly bashed in social media. I’ve come to believe one of the best ways to attract nasty critics in “Christian” circles is not just being be good at what you do, but receiving attention for it.

How do we deal with it when we see it in ourselves? We come in the opposite spirit. We rejoice with those who rejoice. We rely on the provision God has already made for us. I needed to go to some people and apologize for my attitude. That was not easy. I needed to learn to encourage and bless people and to earnestly desire their success. I needed to free myself from this path I was stuck on. I needed to turn around and think again.

Yesterday I was talking to someone who said visitors to their church who had gifts of discerning quietly told the leadership that a spirit of jealously was attempting to divide them. They looked around and realized they were right. People who had shown excellence in their callings as well as people who had received unusual outpourings of unexpected favour were being isolated, ignored, and criticized for minor things by those who had once been their closest friends. Jealousy affects connection. It shows up most in friends, family and colleagues. The wise leaders decided to do the opposite and held small celebrations of appreciation to honour those who were the victims of jealousy. Out of that is coming a freedom to honour everyone. They can say to that spirit of jealousy, “We see you. We know what you want to do. Not here.”

When I started genuinely rejoicing with people who have received miraculous healings, or sudden wealth, or success in other fields, I began to regain my own health and have seen miracles in my life and in my family. I am freer to pursue my calling to encourage others without comparison or competition.

With God, there is always enough to go around. In his eyes everyone is a winner.

Dancing Upon Injustice

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Some friends invited me to join them for a week of thanksgiving and worship as they pray for a young dad with an aggressive form of cancer. For two evenings I sat at the back painting. This is just a cell phone shot of a quick painting but I’m posting it here as an invitation to pray for Jarrett, and any others you know of with life-threatening illnesses. It’s a painted prayer I call “Dancing Upon Injustice” because there is nothing just about cancer.

Originally I painted a night sky but the band started singing, “Open the floodgates of heaven…” and I started adding  waterfalls and eddies and sparkles of light. There is a place where cancer does not exist and we pray that God’s will would be done on earth as it is in heaven. I’ve never seen a worship dancer with army boots, but I think they should be standard issue, so I added those too.

Pray for Jarrett and his family.

The Hope of Glory

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Saints of old the promise heard

and clung to the prophetic word.

For so long, by faith perceived,

the hope was given

and by faith received.

And they believed.

They believed.

They believed

in Christ in you,

the hope of glory.

I’ve been thinking of the people who were mentioned in the book of Hebrews as examples of great faith. They were also examples of great imperfections and the Bible doesn’t gloss over that. What strikes me this time is that none of them lived long enough to see the plan of God play out in the time and place they journeyed through. Faith is actually easier for us because so much more has been revealed to us than they had access to at that time.

My grandparents left everything behind seeking a better future for their children in a new land. They struggled to survive and never saw the promises fulfilled in their shortened life-times. How could they, who never had a washing machine or indoor plumbing, ever have imagined that one of their grandchildren would be on the team of engineers that invented the Canada Arm on the space shuttle – a crucial part of the exploration of the skies? But still they sacrificed to bring it about.

I wonder if I have faith to believe for prophecies beyond my life-time. There are bright and beautiful promises I can see from here, but I don’t know the timing or exactly how they will play out. This I know, the saints before me received hope by faith and it was accounted to them as righteousness. They walked in the hope. By faith I walk in the promise of hope that the light will grow brighter and brighter and the glory of Christ in my children’s children’s children will shine with a brilliance beyond my greatest imaginings.

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Practice

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My dear children, let’s not just talk about love; let’s practice real love. This is the only way we’ll know we’re living truly, living in God’s reality. It’s also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even when there is something to it. For God is greater than our worried hearts and knows more about us than we do ourselves.

And friends, once that’s taken care of and we’re no longer accusing or condemning ourselves, we’re bold and free before God! We’re able to stretch our hands out and receive what we asked for because we’re doing what he said, doing what pleases him. Again, this is God’s command: to believe in his personally named Son, Jesus Christ. He told us to love each other, in line with the original command. As we keep his commands, we live deeply and surely in him, and he lives in us. And this is how we experience his deep and abiding presence in us: by the Spirit he gave us. (1 John 3:18 -24 The Message)

I’ve had the privilege of teaching some very gifted students over the years. I noticed that the most successful – those who developed and maintained a love of music and who sang or played both skilfully and from the heart – had something in common. They learned from their mistakes. They did not ignore them, neither were they overwhelmed by them.

The hardest ones to teach were the ones who, although equally gifted, couldn’t accept correction, no matter how carefully I phrased it. Some always had an excuse: “The sun was glaring on the page. You played a wrong note and it threw me. My parents woke me up too early and I’m tired….”

Some fully acknowledged their mistakes, but broke down in episodes of self-flagellation and dire prediction: “I’m so stupid. I’ll never get this right. I just can’t do it. I’m not smart enough. I haven’t got talent like the girl you were teaching before me. It will never happen!” (I may have been one of these.)

Some had plenty of talent. They swam in oceans of potential. They dreamed of accolades and standing ovations – but they didn’t dream of stopping to fix mistakes. They ignored them, or practised them over and over so that they were set in concrete after a few weeks, or they just plain never practised at all, as if the potential of being a star was close enough.

Someone told me the quality of being teachable is called meekness. On this last day of the year I have been doing a review of what I learned. It would be easy to ignore evidences of change and focus on failures, making excuses for my mistakes. There are hundreds to pick from. It would also be easy to fall into despair, and spout off my frustrations with my lack of love and self-discipline and tendency to repeat the same wrong note twenty times in a row. But self-criticism that condemns is debilitating. It removes hope and makes me want to quit and wallow in shame.

“God is greater than our worried hearts,” John the Beloved wrote. He knew our Great Teacher sees our potential. His corrections are directed at bringing out the talent he has already placed in us. He chooses the music that will challenge enough to stretch us, but not exasperate us. He urges us to practise, because he knows the joy and freedom we will experience when that which once seemed impossible flows naturally and beautifully.

The teacher smiles and says, “Well done!”

Then we grin, ask for our next new piece of music, and rush home to practise.