Beauty in Song

This has been my view for the past three hours:

It’s rare for me to remember a time when I stared at a piece of music so full of quick, hardly-playable, super-high thirty-second notes. And let me be frank: there has been absolutely no beauty in a piece of this caliber…

…until today.

This paper full of random notes and octave runs may seem a jumbled mess at first glance. But after this music is carefully diagnosed and practiced, it starts to take form. The brass voices in the room pass the deep and eerie-sounding bass line around the room as the high woodwinds play these ridiculous runs underneath. What takes form is a dark and mysterious ambiance with what can be imagined as a “run-for-your-life” undertone. It’s truly remarkable.

But let’s be honest, you’d have to hear it to understand, not to mention that half of the people reading this have no musical reading background and haven’t the slightest idea what I’m trying to convey. Let’s get to the point, shall we?

To say that I hated this music at first is an understatement. Then just this past week I ran across Psalm 105:2:

"Sing to Him, sing praise to Him; tell of all His wonderful acts."

And then I thought about it: what if I went in to band today with the thought that, granted, I don’t really deserve this spot in this band considering I can’t even read this crazy music, but the Lord showed me grace and gave me the spot anyway. What if I played the music in thanks to Him? What if I played simply for Him, regardless of how much was actually played correctly?

So I did.

And the result was beautiful. I was no longer reading music; I was playing what became a song. There's beauty in song.