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Glory: The Tinnitus of the Heart
by David Zach (Remedy Drive)
"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end" Ecclesiastes 3:11
Twenty years of playing electric guitar louder than I should has left me with what I hope is a very mild case of tinnitus, and my ears ring when I'm laying awake at night. I've got a related condition that I hope is growing in me...
A dull ringing in the ears of my soul,
A persistent sense of a lost purpose,
A tinnitus of the heart,
A restlessness of the spirit
An age old ache,
No height, no depth (Romans 8:39), nor thought itself, can contain it, this rushing wind, this rising tide. It’s what no eye has seen nor ear has heard, nor human mind has ever imagined (1 Corinthians 1:9).This ringing in my ears, the reality that I've got infinite distances in my soul, paths I can't trace out (Romans 11:33). I've got empty spaces inside of me, eternity in my heart so that I can't fathom what's been done from the beginning to the end (Ecclesiastes 3:11) And I, like Loki of Asgard, am burdened with glorious purpose (The Avengers).
How these hollow chambers in my soul long for glory. Glory, this calling of the ages as it whispers between the stars finding it's way into our art, into our songs and into our dreams.
The far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory (2 Corinthians 2:17)
The substance that outweighs all other pursuits and struggles
The beauty that even the best painting is but a hint of
The reality that even the strongest human emotion is but a shadow of
The song that even the most moving of melodies is but an echo of
The luminosity that even the brightest of sunrises is but a reflection of
It is so subtle and yet so distinct
It is on the tip of my tongue and yet dancing just out of reach
It is right in front of me and yet just beyond the horizon
This glory that won't let us forget who we are.
You and I, we are flesh and blood, but not only flesh and blood.
This is just the feeble stuff we're made of.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on (Prospero The Tempest by Shakespeare)
And we are skin and bone,
but not only skin and bone,
we build our houses out of brick and stone
but this is not our home.
You and I, we are princesses and princes of another kingdom
We are intended for an unimaginable purpose
Let your heart remember it though we see darkly as through a glass, but someday face to face (1 Corinthians 1:12).
When our arms grow tired of lifting empty buckets out from empty wells
When our feet grow weary of chasing the wind (Ecclesiastes 1:14)
When we find time to hide away from the noise of the machinery
When we find a quiet place to escape from the traffic of industry
Then our ears will detect that still small voice (1 Kings 19:11)
Then our eyes will strain through the shadows to catch a glimpse of the substance Then our dreams will be dreams that are kissed by the sweet breezes of a distant shore
Then we'll write songs that are haunted by the ancient melody sung by the morning stars (Job 28:7)
the melody written before the fastening of the foundations of the earth
the melody we remember so faintly from before we were born
Then we'll sing glory with every breath we breathe
If we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen (2 Corinthians 2:18)
If we turn down the volume of the distractions
Then we'll recognize the sound of glory as it resonates in our souls
Then we'll listen for that subtle ringing in our hearts
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace (Turn Your Eyes, Hellen H. Lemmel)