Sometimes I don’t know what to do with “all the feels”.

Sitting in on the first legitimate repertoire class of the term today was a joy and privilege. To listen, watch and glean from my professor’s performance for us, to see three of my classmates perform, to sympathize with their frustrations and insecurities about the mistakes they made, to delight in the beautiful music they gave…

Musicians are artists. They are their own worst critics. They can be more humble than dust and more prideful than a peacock in the same breath. They can hear indescribable beauty in each other’s music, and simultaneously hear every mistake and flaw in their own. BUT. They are also magicians. They are family to each other, and to the music they create. Musicians are of every class, race, and religion. Their communion transcends over centuries, cultures, tragedy, triumph, life and death. They can speak every language known to mankind. They catch a glimpse of eternity’s glory in the music they make and share.

Sometimes I am astounded that I get to study, listen to and make music. It is a gift, both to the musician who brings it to life, and to the hearer who absorbs it. Music is one of the few universal languages. An Asian musician can master a piece by Mozart, and then perform for an American audience and transport listeners to a state of ecstasy. A piece of music is a labour of love under the hands of every musician who gives hours to learn, understand, become intimately acquainted with, bring to life and perform it. It is the product of mercy, the testimony of tireless instruction and practice. Music is one of the few forms of magic that have been gifted to humankind with which to cast spells. Notes on a page are breath, life, dancing, mourning, joy, peace, running, turmoil, weeping and healing waiting to be lifted off the page.  Beautiful minds, whose intellect and creativity astound aspiring musicians such as myself, have conceived of collaborations of notes that challenge the hands, the heart, the mind and the soul of we who study their music. They are our teachers and professors and facilitators, spanning centuries by the work they’ve left behind, to instruct and inspire us.

I love music. Music is to me inspiration, healing, an outlet for expression, a form of communication, a gift to me, a gift that I can give to others, a form of worship, a hobby, a passion, one of the intricate quirky threads that God knit into this kaleidoscopic, cracked clay vessel that my parents named “Amy”.

Today, I am abundantly, awe-fully, humbly thankful for it.

To send light into the darkness of men’s hearts – such is the duty of the artist.

~ Robert Schumann ~

Identity. If you were to take some time to reflect on what influences your identity — or your perception of what your identity is — you might find it to be amusing, surprising, perhaps even convicting.
Having grown up in a Christian home, surrounded by Christian relatives, church family and friends, I am quite familiar with the concept of my “identity in Christ”. It is a well-known, somewhat exhausted topic. And yet, I find I am still in need of the reminder of where my identity comes from.

A thought that has recently occurred to me is that my identity is not based on how I feel.
As a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic, feelings are often the driving force behind decisions I make, how I react to my circumstances, and how I respond to people. Feelings are not a bad thing; however, they sometimes usurp a position of authority in my way of thinking that is not rightfully theirs.
Feelings need to be subject to truth. And when it comes to identity, truth is crucial.
I find the need to remind myself that my identity is what Jesus says I am, not how I feel about myself.
I feel guilty. He says that I am forgiven.
I feel weighed down with past mistakes and failures. He says that all the things I have ever done wrong are no longer going to be held against me by God.
I feel unloved. He says that He loves me and died to have a relationship with me.
I feel defeated. He says that I am “more than a conqueror” in Him.
I feel distant from God. He says that I am IN HIM, and that I get to be right beside God’s throne because I am in Jesus!

No matter how I feel, God is always right. His truth is superior to my feelings.
Whether I feel it or not, this is where my identity comes from. It comes from the perfect, holy mind and heart of an unchanging God. His mind never changes. And everything that He says, everything He declares, is absolute Truth.

And because my identity comes from a God who never changes, that means that my identity also never changes.
In this truth I must immerse myself: that I am always loved, forgiven, cleansed, and a child of God in Christ Jesus.

In your hearts enthrone Him; there let Him subdue
all that is not holy, all that is not true.
Look to Him, your Savior, in temptations’ hour;
let His will enfold you in its light and power.

~ Caroline M. Noel ~

A friend once told me that hindsight vision is 20/20. When looking back on past challenging experiences and circumstances, it is usually easy to discern a lesson learned, a purpose for that particular trial, some good fruit out of a season of pruning.
But what about when you’re in the midst of adversity? How then does one interpret, analyze, discern the purpose of their difficulty?
I am not familiar with physical or circumstantial affliction. However, by God’s grace I have some experience with spiritual and emotional affliction.

Yes, I did say “by God’s grace”.
I say His grace, because I am increasingly aware and convinced of the fact that trials are not necessarily a curse, but are actually a blessing, however oddly disguised.
Psalm 107 opens with giving thanks to God for His enduring mercy. Skip to verses 25-30 and the psalmist says that God “commands and raises the stormy wind” that rises against us and causes our souls to “melt” in the face of trouble.

Why does God allow this?
Because then we will “cry out to the Lord in [our] trouble, and He brings [us] out of the distresses. He calms the storm, so that its waves are still…”
God allows trials out of love. He allows sorrow and pain in various forms to build and shape our character into that of our compassionate High Priest, the suffering Servant, the Son of God who learned obedience through suffering, even to the point of dying a criminal’s death (Hebrews 5:7-8).
Our perfect and loving Father allows affliction also because it forces us to cry out to Him. If life was always a cakewalk, would we have need of the Almighty Saviour? I know that when my life is the easiest, I am the most prone to neglect my relationship with God. When I am overwhelmed by trials, my dependence on Him increases, my cries to Him are more frequent, and I seek comfort and shelter in His presence more earnestly. How He delights to be the Hiding Place for His children!

If you are in the midst of trial, look up. Fix your eyes on Jesus. His eyes are on you, and He’s interceding for you.

God cares deeply about each one of your painful past experiences and each one of your current struggles. We must always remember that receiving His Truth, not running away from it, is what leads to clarity and victory.

~ Leslie Ludy ~