Wordless Chorus

It's a very, very well known fact that I don't have a good singing voice. I love music, but I'm not quite sure it loves me. The other night I was singing at a worship service, and I dropped my head and was suddenly flooded with embarrassment. It's so stupid to get caught up in such a trivial thing like that. Why can't I come to terms with imperfections?

Life is a song that must be sung. Why else are there stereos in cars? Why else would people go to concerts? Why else would people fall in love? Why else would I leave home and all the people I've ever know? Life can't be glorified in monotonous dribbles, in lifeless repetition. Life can't be professed as the vibrant pulse that causes my heart to rise and the drums to pound if I'm awkwardly lip syncing, desperately desiring it all to be over. When was the last time i sat on the curb, head in my hands, licking my wounds and singing joy to the world? So I want to open the hymnal of my heart. I want to be bold for once.

Let this song resound. Let it be the clanking of crystal, the silent dripping of tears. This is my sound check; this is how I know life is being recorded.