To Play Perfect Notes--or to Play with Passion?

"To play a wrong note is insignificant; to play without passion is inexcusable."

---Ludwig van Beethoven

This is a quote I read on a tote of someone in Penn View's music group last year. It especially impressed me because of how the pianist, in a moment of singing passionately, forgot her correct notes and fumbled on the piano.

But everyone forgave her, because it wasn't about playing perfectly, but about playing and singing with a passionate heart, a heart passionate with the love of Jesus.

And now this week as our Morley family is making plans and gathering in for the memorial service for my dad, I can't help thinking about Dad's passions--despite all the wrong notes. 

 In his eighties, Dad purchased a bass fiddle which he loved to play. He would play for any of us who came who were willing to listen--or even if we weren't very willing. 

He would still play that thing.

He would hit nearly all wrong notes, but boy, did he love to play that fiddle along with some song being played on a CD or sung by someone in person, beating out the time (usually all the wrong timing, too!)

But Dad played that fiddle with passion. He was transported clear to the heavenlies somewhere every time he grabbed that fiddle and started drawing the poor, bouncing bow across those twangy strings. 

Dad played an awful lot of wrong notes in his life, leaving his family wincing and gulping and trying to figure out what to do with them all.

But no one can deny the passion with which Dad played in certain areas of his life--like passing down the sword of God's Word to the next generation; reading books like Pilgrim's Progress out loud; making sure his boys learned everything he knew about mechanics and more; and making family a priority.

And I couldn't  help wondering what God thinks of all of us, with all our fiddling passions, and all the many other passions that we have.

Let's hope we have some passions--like ministry, helping others, pro-life ministry, music, woodworking, writing books or reading good ones, photography, community service, fighting fires, cooking healthy, passing on God's values to the next generation.

It seems to me that God would rather that we be passionate about something, even if we hit only wrong notes, rather than mediocre and listless and lukewarm and not care about anything. 

Dad played many wrong notes; but he played with passion.

And I am quite sure that I play--and sing--and do--many wrong notes, but I pray that I may play with passion...

and sing with passion. 

and love with passion!

Because "to play a wrong note is insignificant; but to play without passion is inexcusable."

Dad's Gone--Now It's Up to Us

  Dad, along with Mom, has been in my life, whether near or far away, ever since I was born. 

Others have come and gone, but Dad has been Dad all my life.

 

He was the dad, the parent, the authority figure, 

the grandpa, the patriarch, 

the head of a large family and clan, and the example and pattern. 

 It's up to us now.

Where he followed God and did the right things, we must step up and do the same. 

Where he obeyed God, we must obey also.

Where he reached high, we must also reach. And where his wagon was hitched to a star, we must hitch ours to the Star. 

 

 Where he carried the torch successfully, we must carry that same torch.

Where he failed and made mistakes, we must not sit around blaming, but step up and do better. 

Where his example left something to be desired, it's up to us to be a better example.  

 

 It's up to us.

And it begins with love. 

Love forgives. Love lets go of blame. Love always hopes, always endures. Love seeks not her own, is not puffed up. Love seeks to understand, to be patient, to return good for evil. Love reaches out, embraces, speaks kindly, gets tough sometimes, defends the helpless, confronts sin. Love was what we received when God first loved us. Now it's up to us.

It's up to us to love as Christ loved. It's a big assignment. Are we ready for the job?

Memorial Service Wall Hanging--in Shatters

Small disasters have been happening the last couple days--including Tim ending up in a ditch along a snowy road, some animal issues, and a big shattering crash yesterday morning as Rose ran up the stairs!

Not that it was Rose, or even her fault. It's just that the beautiful, elegant wall plaque that I had purchased to take along to Dad's memorial service event, and which Hannah had hung temporarily on the wall at the top of the stairs suddenly fell off the wall and down the stairs--shattering hopelessly into a hundred pieces big and small! Glass lay on the carpet all around poor, dismayed Rose, who wasn't sure what she had done to deserve this!

I wasn't sure why it had happened, either! I was deeply disappointed that something it seemed God had provided was suddenly--well, unprovided, after all.  Dad did not want money spent on a lot of flowers at his service, so instead, we siblings were trying to come up with creative ways to honor his memory without a lot of flowers.

And a plaque with one of our favorite old hymns, complete with music notes (since music was such a part of our family) was especially suited. It had said, "All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided. Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!"

And I thought that was so appropriate--how God had provided for my dad and my family for 86 years.  

 

I had been looking forward to putting that plaque in our new house after the memorial service. I didn't know what to think. But just because a beautiful thing I bought in memory of Dad and God's faithfulness to our family had broken didn't mean God's faithfulness was messed up!

 God's faithfulness is still great, even if a wall plaque with that verse on it broke.

God is still faithful, even if at times we are not.

God's faithfulness is still there even when we fail, when we sin, when we do not believe in His faithfulness;

even when we just see brokenness and are blind to His grace. 

"All I have needed truly You have provided, Lord."

"Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!"

 

God Has No Scar!

Today I was talking with someone on the phone, and we were both reminiscing about how we sometimes carry scars--memories we can't forget. We may forgive others or forgive ourselves, but the scars and memories, because we are fallen human beings, often remain. 

But then we talked about how God is different than we humans are. He is able to totally forgive and forget sins and wrongs done--after we confess and forsake them. He casts them into the depths of the sea, as far as the east is from the west, and He is so divine that He doesn't remember them against us again. 

"And," I suddenly realized, "God has no scars!"

Nothing to remind Him of our sins and wrongs. No scars at all! Jesus took our sins upon Himself, and carries His scars to His Father, Whose heart is all good, whole, and gracious. A heart with no scars! And just like that, I knew I had to sit down and write.

So I did.

 

God Has No Scars!

My heart, O God, has injuries;

   I can't erase its scars.

I can't forget some memories;

   I've put up iron bars. 

 

But on the rugged cross, O Lord,

   Where Jesus bled and died,

He took the nails in His hands,

   The spear deep in His side.

He took the piercing of His feet,

   The holes that still are deep--

He took them for our ugly sins,

   The sins that make us weep.

The sins that I have done, O God,

   The guilt that I must bear.

The sins of others done to me--

   Wounds quite beyond repair.

In heaven still Christ's scars are seen

   That were not made in vain.

His stripes were for our healing,

   His bruises for our pain.

But though Christ's hands still bear His scars,

   God's heart is whole and free,

With mercy wider than the heav'ns,

   And deeper than the sea.

His goodness stands unending,

   His kindness beautiful.

His pardon so far-reaching

   It overwhelms the soul.

 

Deeper than the ocean vast,

   As far as east from west,

God puts those awful, hurtful sins.

   To the penitent gives rest.

God throws them to oblivion

   And totally forgets.

No hellish demon can retrieve

   Though wide he dip his nets.

In our place the Savior died

   To bring us near from far

To God Who loves us as His own,

   The God Who has no scar!

 

(by Anna Lucas)

And the Stars Shone Bright

 Well, these stars are not the kind that shine in the sky, but they sure do cheer up a homemade wreath and homemade decorations!

This plain wreath my daughter Rose and her cousin Candace found in Mom and Dad's shed a few weeks ago when Rose and I were back in Missouri after my father's death.  Candace had made Christmas stars from soda, cornstarch, and water! And she added those and some other bright decor to the wreath, and this is to go to my mother this evening there in Missouri. Candace sent me the picture, and it was so pretty, I wanted to share it.  

Meanwhile, in Colorado, Rose used the same recipe and made her own stars and dehydrated orange slices and cranberries, stringing them for piano decorations!

So pretty!  

I love when young ladies spend their time creatively and thoughtfully, doing things for others with simple homespun ingredients and love! 

Something  else shone bright, my sister Dorcas noted, after this photo was sent out that someone snapped only a short time before my father passed away, when the family gathered in to sing.

"Did anyone else notice the rays of light beaming down?" Dorcas noted. 

 

"Silent night, holy night; Son of God loves pure light. 

Radiant beams from Thy holy face,

With the dawn of Redeeming Grace. 

Jesus, Lord at Thy birth!

Jesus, Lord at Thy birth!"

Lord, what would we ever do without Your redeeming grace?

An Ice Heart

Last week at our place in South Dakota, Tim bundled up in coat, boots, and gloves, and took off to the river to get a sunrise photo. 

Was he ever surprised at what he found!

A heart carved out of ice in the river! 

I definitely begged for this photo from him!

And this one! 

Talk about cold!

 And we were only too glad later that day, about dark, to finally get the pipe in for the woodstove and get the first fire started in our house!

There's nothing like a wood fire to warm up a cold house--and a cup of coffee! 

Boy and dog alike enjoying the heat from the wood stove,

with the heart of ice left far behind. 

Warm my heart, Lord, with Your love and fire. Carve Your heart in our ice, that the River of Your Love may show shimmering through. 

What Dad Left Behind

Dad didn't leave much behind when he crossed over to the Other Side. 

The clothing he owned took up about 12 inches of closet space and one or two drawers in the bedroom.

He had several pairs of shoes, sandals, and slippers, most of them very old and used. 

He left behind about a dozen coats and jackets on some hooks near the front door.  

And some blankets and medical supplies. 

A computer and desk, a single box of memorabilia. 

A bass fiddle that Dad used to try to play, hitting all the wrong notes and usually even the wrong beats, but when he was playing it, he was not here anyway--

he was in heaven somewhere!

Some tools, grocery items, and some other stuff.

About the only new personal things left behind were three sets of suspenders,

 including these red ones, Mom said, in case he'd need them some time down the road!

 

What he did leave behind were things of far more value--like a godly wife. (Grandson Andrew and Heather sent her these flowers a few days after Dad passed.) .

 Mom was the best choice Dad ever made in his life. 

She stuck by him all these years. Sixty years.

And then Dad left behind nine children--whose families were so involved in missions, music, and ministry that the memorial service had to wait a few weeks. Parts of three families were scheduled to fly to Mexico for a ten-day mission work trip days after Dad passed away.

We knew Dad would not have wanted them to cancel their trip--although they were considering it, so they all flew and the memorial service waited while they worked on a roof and conducted a VBS.

Another family was scheduled for a ten-day Christmas concert tour. 

We knew Dad would not have wanted them to cancel, so they went ahead with that.   

And since the memorial service isn't scheduled till December 29th, our family made a ten-day mission work trip to South Dakota. We know Dad would have been pleased.

He left behind 54 grand children and 8 great grands with more on the way.

And when I was back there in Missouri with my mom a couple days after Dad died, I discovered something else he'd left behind. 

His Bible. 

Actually, there was more than one. There was the big old NKJV he'd used every day for family worship, and another old Bible that must have been many years old. 

There was his Sunday Bible inside a case that he took to church every Sunday--clear up until just two or three weeks before he died.

And another giant print Bible.

I wondered what verses were on the page where Dad's very old butterfly bookmark was, gifted him by someone. 

It was Romans 10. 

Not much in Dad's Bible was underlined but on this page, several verses were marked, including this one. 

"That if you shall confess with your the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved."

Part of the Roman Road, a verse that shows the way to salvation--confessing and believing. 

Underlined in blue pen.  

I thought about a memory Dorcas shared about Dad. Dad had told told many times in our programs, how as a young man out of the Air Force and college, he was attending a service at a Methodist revival meeting, thinking how righteous and good he was. Why, he had attended church all his life, sung in the church choir, never drunk a drop of liquor. Yet the Lord pointed His finger at him and said, "You are the worst sinner here tonight!" And that is when Dad went forward and turned his life over to the Lord.

 Their last seven years in Missouri were probably some of their best years. 

It's hard to believe they've lived there seven years--the longest they have ever lived in any one place.

And what Dad left behind isn't just in Missouri, in the very humble, dilapidated little abode he used to live in with Mom. 

It is all over the United States, and in fact, into the uttermost part of the earth, whether Mexico or Mongolia or Ukraine or Africa--

 

in terms of the beautiful feet of children and grandchildren going abroad to spread the good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people--

whether being involved in missions and VBS's, delivering Bibles, working with Pro-life activities, teaching or any other ministry.

 What Dad did leave behind will not soon rust or fade away.