I am

I am a pianist. This is how I have always defined myself.

(via pinterest)

That is, until my freshman year at Cedarville, when God taught me that this wasn’t entirely accurate. And unfortunately, He had to teach me this the hard way.

I’m a piano pedagogy major, which means I want to teach piano from my home or a studio. It also means that I practice – a lot. I’m at the piano at least two hours each day, if not more.

My second semester of freshman year, I started feeling sharp pains whenever I practiced the piano. I was being taught that “If it hurts, it’s wrong,” and so I had to stop playing for awhile as I, my teacher, and concerned fellow pianists tried to figure out what was wrong.

Was I using bad technique? My teacher didn’t think so. Was I playing too strenuous material? Of course not. Was it signs of carpel tunnel? The symptoms didn’t point to that. And on and on down the list. There didn’t seem to be anything horribly wrong with the way I played – yet every time I tried to practice I inevitably would experience pain and have to stop.

For at least a month I practiced only lightly for maybe 15 or 20 minutes a day. It was definitely one of the hardest times for me. My beloved piano playing – which was not only my major & career, but also my identity and way of expressing myself – was pretty much taken away from me. There were days I cried at the piano, days I was angry at my hands and played through the pain. I had based so much of my worth on playing the piano that when it was taken away from me I hardly knew what to do with myself. At times I felt like I had no purpose anymore.

But God gently and insistently taught me during that time just how important He was in my life: reminding me that I am his child, first and foremost. It doesn’t matter what I can or cannot do in this world – simply to be His gives me purpose enough.

Most of this I knew from my church’s teachings and reading the Bible, yet it had never sunk in in such a profound way before. Often we don’t let things that we know affect our life until we’re forced to come face to face with them.

I was forced to surrender and believe that if God took my ability to play my instrument completely from me, I would still be whole. Because I am his.

That was such a hard surrender, but by God’s grace, I was able to lay my piano playing at His feet. And you know what? Soon after I laid it down, He gave it back to me. Slowly, sometimes maddeningly slowly, but he restored my hands. I was able to pinpoint a few things that might have caused the problem, and build up my strength with short, “light” practices and plenty of stretching. And throughout it all I had to hold to the promise – God is my father, and He loves me. He does what’s best for me.

I am a pianist. But a better way to define me is:
a daughter of the Most High God,
who, by God’s grace,
plays the piano.


(This post was originally a guest post at my friend Kim's blog, Thinking Deeply. Reposted with permission.)

Surrender

Surrender. What a hard word.

For some reason God has been bringing this word up in my life multiple times this past week, this past month, even this past semester. And each time it comes up, I am convicted yet again. Lord, I need to surrender. It seems that there is no end to the things that I hold on to, the people, feelings, ideas, fears... all the different things I try to base my identity on.   

And these last couple of weeks, it has been my hands.

I posted awhile back about how my hands were hurting, and how difficult that was for me. Well, this week, I got a whole new perspective on that. I've been learning that when you surrender, you must be willing for the thing you're surrendering to die, to be killed, and possibly taken from you forever. As soon as I heard this, I thought of my hands. Would I be willing to surrender them to God - assenting completely to His will, even if that meant I could never use them again?

It's a hard thought. But it brought me to realize just how much I've been basing my worth on my hands and my ability to play piano. Yes, I know that I'm a child of God, and my worth and identity should be based off of that. But subconsciously, I re-phrased this. I would think: I'm a child of God - who plays piano. In my mind, my identity was wrapped up in both of these ideas. If either one of them was not there, I wouldn't be me.

What a wrong view of myself I had!


Remember that picture I have at the top of this post? There's a story and a meaning behind it. That was the view I saw one night when I just really wanted to be alone and talk to God about the things that I needed to surrender to Him. The only place I could think of to truly be alone was in a practice room. I turned the light off and sat on the floor behind one of the grand pianos, hoping that I wouldn't be seen by anyone outside. And there I poured my heart out before my God. I prayed aloud (thankfully, those practice rooms are mostly soundproof), and listed each thing that I knew I must give over into God's hands. Even if I never got them back.

This is what I have done this week with my hands. They are God's now, to do with what He will. My piano-playing ability is not what defines me. Only God is.

And you know what's so amazing?

As soon as I surrendered my hands over to God, He gave them back. He has been strengthening them daily, and at the same time giving me joy and peace that passes understanding. And now, passing through this time of testing, I can see my God so much clearer. My life, in even a small way, is that much more focused and centered on my God and Creator.

That, my friends, is the real reason for surrender. Even if God doesn't give the thing you've surrendered back - the goal of it all is to become more like Him. And that is what I'm striving to pursue each day.

“Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God - this is your spiritual act of worship." ~Romans 12:1

Even Through the Raging Sea

"There's a raging sea right in front of me, wants to pull me in, bring me to my knees. So let the waters rise if You want them to, I will follow You, I will follow You." {Click to listen}

When I first heard this song ("Let the Waters Rise" by Mikeschair), it was a hard concept for me to grasp. Why would I pray for God to "let the waters rise if You want them to?" I knew that we ought to pray for what God wants ("Not my will but Yours, Lord"), but when there's something as tumultuous as a raging sea in our path... isn't it okay to pray that He will take it away?

Sometimes the thing God wants us to do is the very thing that we've been avoiding. We're standing there at the edge, looking down at the tumult of wind and spray and waves that look so threatening... and the last thing in our minds is to plunge in. We pray for God to take this impending doom away from us... for Him to "please make everything work out..." yet what if that is not His will? What if His will is instead that we face it and rely on Him for the strength to carry through?

This all really hit home with me this week in one word:

Surrender

I've thought about surrender before, but recently it has not been on my mind in the least. I thought I was doing okay just relying on God for strength to go through each day, much less having to surrender more things to God.

But it's been cropping up everywhere - the sermon at church, chapel speakers speaking about "Surrendered Self-Awareness" and calling God "Lord," and even tonight at my discipleship small group talking about surrendering your gifts and possessions so God can use them. Each time I've heard about it, I feel the barb of conviction pierce a little deeper into my soul.

Am I too happy, God? Too stuck on things going well? 

When is the last time I've prayed for Your Will to be done - no matter if Your will is that my life be turned upside down or that the situation I'm praying about not get better?  

Can I honestly say I will follow You even through the raging sea?

If I said I had this all figured out that would not be true. I'm still working through this, trying to see, trying to trust.

But one thing I do know, and that is that the Bible says to "run with perseverance the race marked out for us... [fixing] our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:1b-2)

I want to follow my Lord's example of perfect sacrifice. He has promised that if I fix my eyes on Him I can run the race well - even through the raging sea.