Or Life as Toni
Not too long ago, I started a little series of writings that I titled “Silly Scribbles” or “Life as Toni”. I began posting them on a private writing club that I joined. I received such positive feedback I decided to be be brave and share with my Maid Arise readers.
So often the writer in me throbs and insists, but my current work in progress is strictly grammatical at this point and my creative juices feel cramped and unjustly squelched. So I have decided to allow these juices passage and wait to see what comes of it. I decided to share my experiences with you. Sometimes my life can be quite humorous to the point of disbelief which I have come to accept as normal.... or sometimes I learn new things about myself or little lessons God teaches through the inevitable we've fondly labeled “life”. I hope that these shared stories and bearings of the soul are somehow a blessing, or in the least, a few minutes of entertainment.
I'm crying in a world of discord. Life's music is a jarring mournful cry. It's a plaintive lonely sound that follows me, shadowing every step, every relationship. A constant melody.
And then I realize why I can't run away from it. The song comes from me. It's a heart cry. Beautiful, intricate, but morbid. It is so loud, I wonder why no one else notices it. In fact, others come to me, needing me to listen to their soul-song while completely ignoring mine. And why would I want to demand that others listen? I can't.
Deliverance becomes my war cry. It's my desperate hope. I beg. But my soul rings louder in my ears. Carefully I hold it out, I try to let someone else listen. They briefly listen as my song bleeds it's first notes, and then look at me with sympathy and say, “I'm sorry...I can't help you...I'm not going to even try”.
Quickly I retract it back and smother it deep down. Life rushes on – too needy to listen. So I give. And I give. And I give. I'm bleeding inside out. But the roar of humanity drowns my heart cry.
I've muffled my soul out of necessity, and yet suddenly in the middle of an ordinary moment, my heart will spill out into public, a noise unbearable. I look up ashamed and I'm told, “It's okay, it's part of life...you'll get over it.” I will?
I'm seen, but I am not heard. I want to hide my heart, with it's sensitive song. If no one care's to listen why would I chase them down like a sales man? If I am purposefully silent at least the world will have a legitimate excuse for not hearing my heart song. To be ignored while your heart screams it's sorrows is painfully insulting. At least there's dignity in silence.
What about God? I run to Him and shyly reveal my blaring heart. Take it, change it, heal it – deliver me! Those I love seem to be the most oblivious to it's howling melody. But surely God knows. He can hear it. He cares. He will deliver me.
But no, I wake up the next morning and listen. I strain to hear. There it is – the cry of a hurting heart. At work it sings. At home it sings. At church it sings.
I run to Him again. Oh God, why will you not deliver me? Send your peace and melody into my heart. Deliver me from the ranting cries. And this is what He says:
“Your deliverance is unnecessary.”
What? But it hurts. I'm lonely. No one cares. I'm abandoned. I'm used. Why won't He save me? Will He forsake me too?
And then, above the din of my heart I can hear a song. It's sorrowful and the strain of it hurts me. It's an anguishing thundering melody. It's His heart cry. And He didn't ask for deliverance. In fact, He deemed it necessary. His heart cry was for the world.
Slowly the song fades, and all I'm left with is the tremor of my own heart. It's cry sounds dim; like the whisper of the sea shell pressed to your ear, compared to the din of an entire ocean. What if my heart cry was necessary to save one person? What if my heart cry had a purpose? What if my song was God-given? What if it was a gift? What if I didn't need to be delivered because it was created for my own good? What if He wrote it'ssong?
Every note is precious if He orchestrated it. No-one needs to listen, because He already does. No one knows my heart like Jesus. I can courageously bare my heart and let Him play across it's strings if it's Him who strikes the chords. Who knows who will be benefited by it's music? Maybe this is a song that only He and I will share? It doesn't matter, there's a reason, and I've learned to be okay with the cacophony of my soul. He's the composer and He has lovingly titled the first measure – Unnecessary Deliverance.
“Often thou art crying that thou art living in a world of discords. Thou art living in a world of perfect music, only thou hearest but a small portion of the music. Often art thou saying that the coming melody shall atone for the jarring chords. Nay; say rather that the jarring chords themselves shall be revealed as parts of the harmony. The melody is not to come, it has come already...” ~ George Matheson, Moments on the Mount, p. 135