Post by Peace-=Of-God=- on Jul 8, 2006 11:08:10 GMT -5
Princess sent me a link to the following story a couple of days ago. It is posted on the Faith Writers forum, where "The Penning Princess" is an active participant. It moved me deeply, as I am also a musician of sorts, and so I asked her to ask the author if we could repost his story here for your benefit. He humbly and graciously agreed:
Originally posted at FaithWriters.com on 5/10/06 and reproduced here by the author's permission:
Karie,
Thank you for your kind words concerning "The Musician" story.
I am always humbled to hear that someone received something out of anything the Lord allowed me to put my hands to. Your husband is more than welcome to post that story in his forum.
...
May the blessings of our God overtake you and your husband in every area of your lives.
<><
George Parler (Inkpen)
Thank you for your kind words concerning "The Musician" story.
I am always humbled to hear that someone received something out of anything the Lord allowed me to put my hands to. Your husband is more than welcome to post that story in his forum.
...
May the blessings of our God overtake you and your husband in every area of your lives.
<><
George Parler (Inkpen)
Originally posted at FaithWriters.com on 5/10/06 and reproduced here by the author's permission:
The Musician
by George Parler, 04/11/06
As far back as he can remember, the musician carried within him an inherent quest for the song. He never really understood nor questioned why he was compelled to play. And those not of his kind never truly understood him. How could they, for they could never know the melody he searched for. A song without lyrics, never before heard by man.
So through his life he played with the same fervor as those who gasped to breathe. Pausing but for a moment, nodding to those who thanked him for a song. For a song that allowed them a moment away from the toils of this life. He would smile and thank them for their kind words. But behind the smile, he ached for the melody that has so long eluded him. The melody that when played, spoke the unspoken words. The words laced within the melody that only God Himself can hear.
Many times in the twilight of night, all alone he would play. Exhaling his heart through his hands, upon his instrument. The night would hear his songs of triumphs and failures; his laughter and tears, while still desiring to catch the song. The melody which swirls in his head, yet the volume is too low to distinguish the notes clearly.
Now the musician grew older, his hands became wrinkled and sore. Yet he still played through the pain, because he could never stop as long as he drew another breath. The audience of men said, “Why doesn’t he stop and pursue something else? His songs are old and no longer sell.” They no longer needed him for their escape from the day. But they never understood that he played for an audience of one.
The day came when his instrument was put away for one final time. The light had left from his eyes from the body he had left behind. He found himself in the company of angels, who said, “Come, the Master is waiting.”
The light from the throne was overwhelming, as the musician fell to his knees. And then all of heaven hushed and became silent, as the Master said, “Let it begin.”
The melody, so exquisite, began to ring out through heaven. The musician began to weep bitterly as he heard the song. The song that had been beyond his reach all of his life. It was the most beautiful song he had ever heard.
When the song had finished, the Master said, “What’s wrong my son. Why do you mourn so?” The musician replied, “Master, this is the song I have desired to play for You all of my life. And now my life is over and my instrument is laid to rest. I had spent my entire life on earth in search for this one special song that I might play it for You. And now I stand before you only to find out you have already heard it.”
The Master smiled and said, “Son, you do not understand. I’ve never heard this song until this moment. Because it was still being written until you arrived here today. Each day of your life was a note in the melody of your song to Me. A symphony of your life was completed this very day. Every act of compassion and love to another strummed the notes of your melody together. I heard every song you played in the night and your desire to please Me with your talent. But of all the songs you have written, this is my favorite one of all. Well done my son, well done.”
by George Parler, 04/11/06
As far back as he can remember, the musician carried within him an inherent quest for the song. He never really understood nor questioned why he was compelled to play. And those not of his kind never truly understood him. How could they, for they could never know the melody he searched for. A song without lyrics, never before heard by man.
So through his life he played with the same fervor as those who gasped to breathe. Pausing but for a moment, nodding to those who thanked him for a song. For a song that allowed them a moment away from the toils of this life. He would smile and thank them for their kind words. But behind the smile, he ached for the melody that has so long eluded him. The melody that when played, spoke the unspoken words. The words laced within the melody that only God Himself can hear.
Many times in the twilight of night, all alone he would play. Exhaling his heart through his hands, upon his instrument. The night would hear his songs of triumphs and failures; his laughter and tears, while still desiring to catch the song. The melody which swirls in his head, yet the volume is too low to distinguish the notes clearly.
Now the musician grew older, his hands became wrinkled and sore. Yet he still played through the pain, because he could never stop as long as he drew another breath. The audience of men said, “Why doesn’t he stop and pursue something else? His songs are old and no longer sell.” They no longer needed him for their escape from the day. But they never understood that he played for an audience of one.
The day came when his instrument was put away for one final time. The light had left from his eyes from the body he had left behind. He found himself in the company of angels, who said, “Come, the Master is waiting.”
The light from the throne was overwhelming, as the musician fell to his knees. And then all of heaven hushed and became silent, as the Master said, “Let it begin.”
The melody, so exquisite, began to ring out through heaven. The musician began to weep bitterly as he heard the song. The song that had been beyond his reach all of his life. It was the most beautiful song he had ever heard.
When the song had finished, the Master said, “What’s wrong my son. Why do you mourn so?” The musician replied, “Master, this is the song I have desired to play for You all of my life. And now my life is over and my instrument is laid to rest. I had spent my entire life on earth in search for this one special song that I might play it for You. And now I stand before you only to find out you have already heard it.”
The Master smiled and said, “Son, you do not understand. I’ve never heard this song until this moment. Because it was still being written until you arrived here today. Each day of your life was a note in the melody of your song to Me. A symphony of your life was completed this very day. Every act of compassion and love to another strummed the notes of your melody together. I heard every song you played in the night and your desire to please Me with your talent. But of all the songs you have written, this is my favorite one of all. Well done my son, well done.”
Definitely a must read. Especially if you are involved in music in any way. 
Thanx Andrew 
![Sage-=Of-God=- [Steven] Avatar](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v193/Spike__exe/ICONS/text_196.jpg){kind=icon}
at the present. Thank you again for stopping by, and for sharing this message of hope with us here. 
