This is from an Anonymous Unblog reader…
There was no question in my mind.
As a toddler, I wrote music and played weird chords on the piano. I got in trouble for trying to play my dad’s full sized cello. I regularly pestered my parents for three whole years until they let me take cello lessons. They finally got me lessons at age 6. I have been playing cello ever since.
And now, the confession:
Whenever someone asked questions like, “What would be the hardest thing for you to give up for Zion?”, my first thought was my cello.
I cringed inside every time.
I told God I only wanted to use my cello to glorify Him. I told Him I didn’t want it to be an idol that would separate me from Him. I purposely visualized some catastrophe where my cello got smashed in bits.
I came to a point where this scenario wouldn’t be the end of my little pathetic world. However, when imagined such a scenario, I certainly felt a bit like how an amputee might feel. That’s how close I am to my cello.
So, when I got to Spencer’s description (in Visions of Glory) about the people in Zion who are able to work with wood on a terrestrial level, I felt a wonderful release.
DUH!!! WHO CARES???
With the Master Carpenter as our King, and skilled craftsmen working with wood on a level of terrestrial exquisiteness, my current cello would be offered as firewood for someone’s campfire outside the walls of Zion.
What a blessing!
Today, you could make a down payment on a house with the value of my current cello. In Zion, it will be considered firewood compared to something that will be crafted within those walls.
And then I thought about how this all makes perfect sense — this whole concept of, “It will truly be more beautiful and wonderful than our current imagination can fathom.” Just think about the glorious music that would come out of any instrument made by a craftsman in Zion!
After spending most of my life on this planet fussing over the thought of giving up my terrestrial cello, I have a peaceful — nay, JOYFUL — release from my own stupidity that was weighing me down.
If you are shaking your head and chuckling at me, you are not alone. I’m laughing with relief as a long-carried unnecessary burden has vanished.
I also believe God might be smiling that I let a silly worry go — especially since this whole concept of trusting that God has better things in store is probably a “no brainer” for many others.
I’m still running to catch up to where He wants me. There’s a lot more “stupid” that I need to get rid of. And that’s OK with me. I trust His timing and ability to knock off and smooth my rough edges as He shapes me into the person He wants me to become.
Somewhere in your life, you may not have a cello that you’re willing to let go. But there’s bound to be something. I now know that when we are willing to let go of our most prized possessions, God will eventually exchange it with something better than we’ve ever imagined.