I’ve had a quote running through my mind for the past few days:
“The region where there is only life, and all that is not music is silence.”
I was pondering this to my self on a walk home, letting it roll off of my tongue a times (I often I forget that people can, and do, see me when I talk to myself in public areas). I was wondering is that sentence could be true.
One of my biggest areas of growth, and struggle, has been with my tongue. Knowing that my heart is revealed by my tongue terrified me. Terrifies me. At times I’ve felt words slip out of my throat like cockroaches through a splintered, shadowed and parched ground. I felt ugly, and I was ugly, and I was making the world around me ugly. One word, a suggestion of a word, has been the shovel of my pit. I’ve set words free from my heart that I immediately have tried to pull back, but seed of those kind always find a home and germinate. I have so many regrets and so many fears every day that I walk this earth. And the only way I can cope it to not speak, but pray first. It is only after speaking to the one who created my mouth that I find peace. I hate my mouth. I hate my tongue.
Back to the walk, and the quote.
I could barely imagine. The Tongue, something that has failed to be controlled or bridled since the birth of man, producing music. The quote is speaking of Heaven, of course. Walking home that day, I imagined a world were everything that came out of my mouth was good and pure and righteous and music. And everything that isn’t those things is silent.
Everything that would come from my lips would be God glorifying, perfect, necessary and worth hearing. I would not need to fear opening my mouth, because I would have no fear of regret.
And it was in this small moment of contemplation that I grew more excited than I ever have been. for Heaven. For Home. Of course I didn’t understand it in so many words as I have presented now. But truth can be known and experienced in the briefest of moments, and I had mine. I want to go to Heaven.
I want to sing.