When the Song Is Too Broken to Sing

broken pianoI sing the song out of habit, the fragmented melody frustrating me more each day.  But I was made to sing, so I repeat the song in my head, on my lips.

The passion evolves into ritual, for the world around me leaves little about which to sing.  The empty traditions, they echo into the deep hollow of my heart.  And while I scorn the song written for me, written for those I love, written for those I do not know,  I’m most terrified by the echo resonating within.

The echo proclaims distance.  Emptiness.  Detachment.  Self-preservation.

The echo bounces off my collection of idols stored deep within, clashing with my fleeting loves, my misdirected passion, my confusion.  How did I accumulate so many?!

Yes, my shallow heart holds treasures so deeply.  Over-planning, control, manipulation of circumstances – all striving to prevent the Songwriter’s music from singing into my life.  Oh, how His Song is often not what I would have chosen.

I’m sure my song was supposed to be different, I think, for if it’s my intended harmony, then I’m so very confused.  I must be in the wrong line, the wrong chorus, someone else’s song.

I play the victim and contribute to the clash until the Songwriter’s grace floods my frustration, until it washes away my self-protection.   He breathes peace onto the pages and anoints wisdom into my sight, allowing me to see His redemption once again.  Yes, He re-arranges the broken into something beautiful.  His Love Story – so complex, so tragic, so passionate, so whole.

I understand, and yet I don’t.  And He’s glorified.

“My intentions are not always yours, and I do not go about things as you do.  My thoughts and My ways are above and beyond you, just as heaven is far from your reach here on earth.”  Isaiah 55:8,9


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