Stay on Tempo

Good things take time.

This week I did something I don’t do often enough– play my violin. At six years old, I asked my parents if I could play the violin and after a year of asking, they found me a teacher. I took lessons for eleven years, and played in an orchestra for eight, but today, I only play when no one else is around. 

While I don’t play every day as I used to, I don’t think I’ve ever loved my violin more than I do now. It could be because, for most of the time I played, it was to master a piece to play it for others. So while I was practicing, I wasn’t really enjoying the experience of playing as much because I was more focused on perfecting the piece. 

These days, it’s like hearing the music that I’m making for the first time, and when I play a C sharp instead of a C natural, I can laugh and say “whoa that’s not right” as opposed to getting discouraged. But that’s not the theme of today. 

While recently playing from an old Suzuki music book, I was reminded of the biggest struggle my teacher had with me: rushing. 

Even after 19 years of playing the violin, I’ve always struggled with rushing through songs. It’s been eight years since I took lessons, but I can still hear my teacher’s voice “you’re rushing, Hannah.” 

When I get excited about a piece of music I slowly get faster and faster until my fingers are tripping over themselves, or if I see a bunch of sixteenth notes coming up on the next measure (if you don’t read music, picture a bunch of thick black music notes crammed together), and I get anxious about playing them right so I stutter right through them. 

There’s a reason the composer wrote the piece at the tempo he or she did. He created the song, so he knows what tempo it’s to sound the best at. He or she also knows that any faster will set the musician up to fail. 

It’s hard to stay on beat when you get anxious or excited, but it’s worth it to play the song the way the composer intended. If I’m honest, my teacher isn’t the only one who tells me to stop rushing– life can be pretty tempting to rush as well.

When things seem to be going pretty well, it’s tempting to see how far you can go with things, or to desire more and more: But good things take time. 

On the contrary, you might see a bunch of scary-looking sixteenth notes in real life coming your way (or maybe you didn’t anticipate and they surprised you with their presence) so you try to rush right through it to get it all over with. In doing so, however, you don’t actually learn how to play it, and what you produced sure doesn’t sound like music. 

Picture God as the composer of your life. He wrote your life with a perfectly unique amount of exciting moments and skill-building moments. He knows the perfect tempo of your life, any faster and He knows you would trip, any slower and you would not grow. We don’t compare songs in terms of speed, so why do we compare our lives in terms of speed? Each one is uniquely different. 

The comfortable, slow-building moments aren’t meant to go any faster, and those hard, overwhelming parts are meant to teach, build, and refine you. 

Live your life at the speed God intends you to live it. He composed it just for you, so be patient, trust the tempo, and if you find yourself trying to rush, it’s okay, look to the conductor (Jesus) and he will get you back on track– that’s what He’s there for :)