I sat in awe.  pure awe.  My hands clinched together tightly, my eyes fastened to his fingers.  They were the fastest I’d ever seen in real life, agile, executing each passage with ease and a depth of technique I’d never known.

jaw-dropping amazement.

I was in the eighth grade and I was watching this tenth grade boy play one of the Chopin Polonaises, just after I had competed at the same piano with my own attempt of Chopin’s Military Polonaise.  My pulse was racing and my face felt flush with disappointment as I realized one thing:

My best was not THE best.  Not this year.

In my own personal history there were many more competitions after this one I’ve been recalling today. more recitals, more performances.  many triumphs.  many more losses.  The highs were glorious and the lows were bitter, terribly bitter.    And why?

I can’t pinpoint when it happened, but somewhere along the line I deviated from doing my best and sought to be THE best.   Its a painful road, the road towards idolatry is, I can assure you.  And for me it is the hardest idol to remove from my heart.

Years later, I now find myself in a somewhat “performance” driven position… where I have to acknowledge that I am in a similar predicament.  I don’t want to just do my best – I want to be better than everyone else.  To do my best, in the simplest sense, is to sacrificially give of myself to the One who gave me this gift…  To focus on being the best, places that old idol of self reliance and individual accomplishment ahead of Him.  ugh.  And it wreaks of pride and arrogance, which are sins.

So, I read an interesting quote from Tim Keller, which I’ll paraphrase, but it went something like this:  When you uproot an idol, the best way to keep it from growing back is to plant the seeds of God’s love in its place.  In my case, this is very accurate.

The only way for me to stop trying to be the best, from a human perspective is to realize that I don’t have to be.  God created me, for His glory, exactly the way He wanted to – and to do anything other than my best is to fall short of His plans for me.  To live sacrificially, giving my gifts to Him with a pure heart, that brings Him glory.

To be the best at being me – that is what His will is. He does not love me because of my excellence.  That’s impossible.  He loves me because I am His child and He chooses to love me with a forever love. There’s no earning His affections :  I don’t have to be number one now and I never did.  These are the seeds of love I’m planting today.

When I was in the first grade, I made an unfortunate choice.  Our class went to the library, just like usual one afternoon and I chose a book.  A big kid book – a Nancy Drew mystery – close to 200 pages long, I’m sure.

We finished up at the library, and with books in hand we came back to our classroom for reading time.  I would guess that reading time was probably about 20 minutes long.  Of course, for me, a six year old first grader, the Nancy Drew book was a little difficult.  I paged through the book, flipped to the end, and closed my book sitting on my desk in front of me.

My teacher, Mrs. Huarez approached my desk.  “Melody, why aren’t you reading?” she asked.  And here’s where I made that very poor choice.  “I’m finished.”  I replied.  “Oh, you can’t be finished yet!  Why don’t you read a little more?” she asked. “I already read it all,” was my response. “Melody, are you sure?” she said incredulously. “Yes,” I said without hesitation, “I’m done.”  Shortly after our exchange, she and I went to visit my dad, in his office down the hall… and I continued my story.  I was sticking to it…

In an unavoidable turn of events that day, I chose to be a liar.

The conversation plummeted downhill from there, ending in discipline from my dad.  Because I wanted everyone to believe that I was a stellar, first grade speed- reader, I was unable to change my story and admit, that I was just a regular student.  My six year old little mind didn’t realize that they knew the truth regardless of my answers.  My teacher and my dad – they knew me well enough to know what kind of student I was, and the reading I was capable of – I didn’t need a story.   They loved me, no matter what my ability was.

Funny thing about it is, I’m still a liar now.  Not about my reading level of course, but about other stuff.  I tell my Heavenly Father things about myself all the time that aren’t true…  Because I think its important to Him.  I want Him to think I’m following closely, that I’m loving Him better than I used to, that I’m obeying – when He knows better than anyone that I’m not.

But I don’t need to lie.

As a sinner, saved by His grace, He loves me in spite of all of my shortcomings and failures. He doesn’t love me because of how hard I try, or because of who I think I am.  In fact, He loved me long before I ever knew how to try.  He loved me first.  When I’m honest about who I am, that’s when He pulls me closer and says, let me help you.  As I give my whole self to Him entirely, with all the ugliness and confusion, He is able to forgive me and make me into the beautiful Christ-follower I long to be.

When I believe His love is real and true, I come to know more clearly – I don’t have to be a big fat liar anymore.  What a relief!

We love Him because He first loved us.

During my 7th grade year of life many monumental things happened.  Our family moved back to the states from Canada and I started a new school. I had my own room in a new house.  My mom had a near fatal car accident.  My Great Grandmother came and stayed with us for several months.  But, for me, nothing surpassed one particular event.

In the fall of 1987 a Young Chang, black ebony grand piano was delivered to our home, planted on the new plush gray carpet, just inside the living room.  Nothing earthly changed my life more than that piano.

I remember some of the first pieces that I learned on that instrument : Debussy’s Reverie and Chopin’s Military Polonaise.  I practiced hours upon hours each week, sitting on that bench, preparing for lessons and competitions.  There was no place I’d rather be than sitting at the keys.  It was truly my first love.

As time went by, the piano was my constant comrade in life’s ups and downs.  I played my heart out at that piano while our family walked thru some of the most difficult circumstances of my young life.  And although I enjoyed classical pieces, when my heart was heavy or in need of tender loving care, I would play hymns and worship music.   Oh the places my heart soared while I sat there with my friend, the Young Chang.  So many private moments of warmth and satisfaction, I can’t even begin a list.

We’ve been home, visiting my parents this week.  Yesterday I went in to say hello to my old childhood companion.  Our visit was long and refreshing.  There was a warmth that has never left – every time I sit there on her bench, she welcomes me and we enjoy beautiful,  glorious moments of musical bliss together. And oh how I needed it!

I realized something as my fingers were gliding over the familiar glossy black and whites.  It wasn’t the music, or the piano alone that had been my companion all those years ago. But rather, it was the music, the gift He’d given to me, and the certain presence of His Holy Spirit at the center of it all, soothing my heart and soul, guiding me daily.  Where else would I have found Him closer, than sitting on that bench?  Only a Heavenly Father with such sincere affection would carefully appoint this rendezvous with me.

It was no different yesterday than it has always been.  While I played I experienced the most intimate moments of communion with Him – In particular as I played and sang these words:

Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus, I behold Thee as Thou art, And Thy love, so pure, so changeless, Satisfies my heart; Satisfies its deepest longings, Meets supplies its every need, Compasseth me round with blessings; Thine is love indeed!  Jesus I am resting, resting in the joy of what thou art.  I am finding out the greatness of thy loving heart.  

He has been and will be my deepest point of satisfaction and rest and blessing.   His love is more than great! There is intense joy and comfort knowing it was my Savior who has been with me all along.

He is my companion.

From my days in kindergarten, I have this memory of Christmas.  I, along with all of the other kindergarteners were standing in the choir loft for the Christmas program, singing the songs we had learned.  One song in particular was “The Friendly Beasts” – and it was my favorite. We got to wear animal masks that we had made.

I think I was the cow.  I feel confident that I was a very loud, singing cow. My memory is a bit weak, but I do remember a part of the song,

“Jesus our Savior, kind and good,
Was humbly born in a stable of wood,
The friendly beasts around him stood,
Jesus our Savior, kind and good.”

The cow’s verse talks about how he gave Jesus his manger for a bed, and gave his hay to pillow Jesus’ head.  This memory keeps rolling around in my mind…  and I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to think of it all.

Well, I’ll tell you what I know.  I’m struggling today.  Things are not going as planned and I feel a wee bit of “ba-hum-bug” settling in on me.   Can’t everything just go smoothly for once?  I have cleaning and laundry to get done, presents to wrap, baking and cooking to get started!  The holiday will be ruined if it doesn’t go just the way I planned it!  HUMPH!

So, I’ve been laying on my bed in my favorite pouting posture, waiting for other things to go wrong.

I find myself remembering the song again and again.  Its almost irritating by now – Cows don’t really sing about the birth of Christ you know.

But, the thoughts in the carol are sincere.  Mary couldn’t have felt as though things were perfect the night Jesus was born, that first Christmas  Could she?  Jesus, the King of Heaven, was born in a stable, with animals all around  being smelly, dirty and making noise…  Definitely not an excellent delivery situation for any mother.

Jesus, the King of the Universe, left heaven knowing He would be born into imperfection.  He came to be with us, to save us and to redeem this fallen, imperfect world.  The humble beginning in a stable was only the initiation of His plan.

The truth that is hard for me to understand is this:  Jesus came to us without the hope of perfection. And that remains true, even all these years later. Instead He longs for my heart – my life – my all.  And when I think about it – the beasts in the stable, they offered Him what they had. Maybe that’s what my Christmas should look like too – an offering of what I have, rather than what I’m sure I ought to be.

Whether its Christmas time or not, I often get caught up in trying to give Jesus my best attempt at perfection.  But, in reality that’s not what He’s after at all.  He wants me with my imperfections and my rough edges – so that He can use my life to bring glory to himself and to the Father.

Heavenly Father,  May I , just like the words I sang so long ago, become willing to give you what I have… This year help me to once again give my heart to you… its all I have.   I think that may be what you’re hoping for.

a verse from another favorite carol:

What can I give him, poor as i am?
If I were a shepherd I could give a lamb.
If I were a wiseman I could do my part.
But what I can, I’ll give Him, give Him my heart.

(written originally December 2010)

My bedtime routine as a child is one of my favorite memories.  I can still recall being nestled in my bed, snuggled under the yellow flowered cotton sheets, the bedspread pulled up taut around me, listening to music so that I could go to sleep.  Back then I didn’t go to sleep without music.

It played from down the hall, my “sleeping” music did, on a round table that turned vinyl discs- it was the only way we played music back then.  Our record player sat in the living room, which functionally was almost exactly in the middle of the house.  You could hear its music from one end of our home to the other, which was important for those of us listening at bed time.

Regularly, the record would finish before we had gone to sleep, and we would give a shout out to my Mom or Dad, “Turn it over!”  In particular, one set of records that we would listen to, year round, was “The Messiah.”  Over and over we heard, as young children, “Comfort Ye My People,”  and “Every Valley shall be exalted,” and “Who may abide the day of his coming?”  It was one of the original Advent studies, long before I had ever even heard the word Advent.

As December rolls along each year, I struggle to connect with the story.  A baby, from Heaven, born to a virgin, in a manger, God incarnate.  and how am I to receive this gift?  It is all so surreal.  I want my heart to be so enthralled, that it doesn’t let go in the “off” season; so saturated that I don’t become brittle and hard to the truth.  A Savior, God’s greatest gift, born for me.

It hit me On Wednesday, as I did school work with the kids and made dinner and did all of the ordinary things, while listening to the Messiah.  one and a half times over it played.  And then I listened to more as I drove to choir practice.   For me, connection comes as I repeat the story – the whole story from the beginning- again and again, just like we did as children.  As the bright light of its truth settles into the dark places of my sinful heart, I am able to sing from the depths of my soul,”Glory to God,” “Rejoice! Greatly!”  “For Unto Us a Child is Born!” and with boldness, “Hallelujah!”

Psalm 92:1-2 is a good reminder to rehearse it, over and over :

1 It is good to praise the Lord
and make music to your name, O Most High,
² to proclaim your love in the morning
and your faithfulness at night,

With my Christmas Season in full swing: the parties, the Christmas programs, the baking and decorating, the shopping and on and on and on,  I am determined to not let it rush by.  I will slow down and let the reality of the story, “God with us,” turn over in my heart and mind as often as I can.  The more it sinks in, the better the celebrating.