You WICKED LAZY SERVANT.

*sigh*

Tonight was ... can't find a word for it. All I know is that I haven't felt so much, so moved, expressed so much.

I had a prayer meeting to go to at 10, so I went early at 9:40 to play piano. I played, I played, eventually I ended up pouring my heart, my soul, my mind, my strength into my fingers, desperately trying to express all my emotion that I had stifled from reaching the surface.

You WICKED LAZY SERVANT.

I messed up so badly last semester. God has made me His manager of so much, I am capable of doing so much...yet I had terribly failed my master.

That's all I could focus on while my fingers were stumbling across the ivory keys. I had been such a wicked lazy servant. The pain of failure, the sting of God's disappointment, the guilt of unworthiness slowly and surely began to penetrate my extra-fortified heart. The piano was the key facilitator of all this I felt. I sit down. I play. Random spontaneous chord structure, random spontaneous melody line. I close my eyes. No longer are the sounds I play random, these notes begin to make a phrase. Through my fingers, I was asking God to forgive me of my transgression.

I had been broken. Not by one huge event, not by one major catastrophe.

All it took was just some notes trickling out of the piano to seep through the cracks of my heart.

Through my fingers, I wanted God to know, I wanted everyone in the room to feel how disgusted I was with myself. Through my fingers, I told God I was sorry, and both He and those within listening range could sense my sadness with myself. Through my fingers, I eventually crumbled into a weak, poor, pathetic human being, stripped of his armor, stripped of his walls, and reduced to an emotionally naked soul.

As the notes begin to fade, my eyes open. I have shedded a tear or two, and I am on the brink of opening the floodgates. I am awed and floored by what I had done. Never had I ever expressed what I needed to express so clearly, so genuinely, so articulately. The music I had created, though raw, was probably the most beautiful thing I had ever played. As I'm transfixed on the piano, Vincent comes over, sits on the bench with me, and puts an arm on my shoulder. Floodgates collapse, and drop by drop tears trickle down my cheek. I wonder why I cry, I am usually a pillar of strength, but I no longer care about why the walls came crashing down.

As he is playing medic tending a downed soldier, I am staring blankly straight ahead. He asks questions, I answer...he's sensitive enough to know how much space I need, and how much he can enter. Vincent is also very underappreciated. He gets attention in a different way.

All it takes is the presence of someone I admire and highly regard to push me over the edge and break down. I can hold it in pretty well, but once your words of care, or your touch of encouragement reach me, I lose it.

I think I know why I don't allow myself to be broken. I fear after experiencing brokenness, I fail again. I fear vowing to change, only to go back on my word within the week. If I am never broke, I can not be guilty of not repenting from my brokenness...or something like that. If I am not broken, then I can still have an excuse for not repenting, for I can say "oh, I can change tomorrow". Once I am broke, I have no choice but to change. It is inexcusable to not change after being broken.

But what if I fail?

edit: I know we're redeemed in Christ. I know that I do not have to do anything to earn God's love or earn God's salvation. Not that it is my desire to earn it, but I desire to respond to God's love correctly, and not waste it.
posted by justin at 11:35 PM