Joyful Noise

Creation is an orchestra to the Most High God. It sings in many parts, each unique being created with its own timbre, each its own melody, put together in a choir of sound – a song to the Creator emerges.

The rustling leaves of the greenest trees ring whispers of syncopated snares and crashing cymbals. The very earth the steadiness of bass and timpani. Creatures croon with deep voices in the greatest fortissimo. Others serenade with a gentle melodic line. The waves tap steady cadence and lulls a slow adagio in its ebb and flow. The stars sing a rhythmic melodious percussion.

All around, Creation is making music to the Creator. Never ceasing, each part rests where it needs. Deep breaths precede the start of every phrase. To each a chance to sing in intervals of thirds and fifths and sevenths.

The moving line belongs to one section at different times. Each part contributes in the universe’s ultimate melodic score. The Creator, a great conductor, edifying Himself with His direction.

In tune with one another, watching His cues, Creation is a chorus in perfect harmony – a sonnet played in the sweetest legato or a march in the most grandioso. When we wander from what’s written in the score, from the Conductor’s masterful hands, dissonance forces its cacophonous discord.

Creation sings a sweet melody to the Lord of Hosts. In the heavenlies, the song is heard amongst the angels, who join with trumpet calls and loud voices.

To each a unique part, just one piece of the orchestra. And together a combination of a robust choir, the crescendo of vigorous ballad, articulating each note as the Conductor intends.

Take up your instrument, and join in celebration. Keep your eyes on the Director, and play to the guidance of His hands. Let all creation lift in unison one voice in many parts to sing to, to sing of, the Lord Almighty and His grandiose love.



Born from an idea of the most creative God, she first existed in the corners of His imagination. A smile drew across His lips as He pondered the life He would give her, the blessings He would shower upon her, the pride He would feel to call her His. She is a lump of earth, full of potential, in His skilled hands – hands that molded the stars and hold the universe in place. These same hands were molding her into being, leaving His fingerprints in every aspect of her life. Fingerprints barely visible unless she really searched for them. He left them in the mold that she may follow them back to Him.

As a smile stretched across His face at the thought of blessings He planned to lavish on her, tears escaped His eyes and traced trails down His face when thinking of the heart breaks she will undergo in order to make her perfect, as well as the heartbreaks He will endure for her sake.

Clay does not choose how it is to be molded, what it is to become. The sculptor is the master over his clay. If He is not satisfied, if the creation is not perfect, it is in His power to crush her and begin again. Shattered to pieces, crushed beyond recognition, there is still a bittersweet hope. He does it because she is not yet perfect. He will continue to mold her however long it takes, however many times He must begin again. He will make her perfect.

In the scream of silence, the caress of a whisper brushed across her face. Born from the imagination of the Most High God, He seals her with His promise.

She is His masterpiece.

Ruthless Trust

She sits a child in awe of her Father. Heart alive, breath full, soul thankful. God is truly too good to her.

Her heart swells, desiring to know where to continue – Father’s opinion and guiding to show her the way. What a beautiful life He’s given her – with scars that adorn beyond the sparkle of the rarest jewel. What wonderful relationships He’s surrounded her with – people to stand beside her, hands to hold her up, feet to walk with her.

A still, unrelenting peace pierces her heart and moves her to her knees. God is too good to her. Desiring His glory, she seeks His wisdom and counsel, and slowly releases her grips and lays her heart and treasure at His feet. Ruthless trust. This is what she needs to grow. Ephesians 1:18-20 – this is what she needs to pray and believe. Child-like wonder – this is how she needs to worship Him.

Will she hold onto her own will or let God take it and do what He wills with it? To let go is to rip her very being apart, but God is faithful, and God will always get His glory.

I pray that the eyes of my heart may be enlightened, so that I will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe in accordance with the working of the strength of His might which He brought about in Christ, when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly places. (Eph 1:18-20)

This power that raised Christ from the dead is alive and working. In her. Everyday. How humbling.

How freeing.

[written 30 January 2011]