A More Beautiful Noise

A post from Mars Hill Advent celebration:

A man was heading home with his toddler child. They were returning from a long day of activity and busyness. Many things were weighing on the father’s mind. The vehicle was quiet, but the man’s mind was noisy with thought.
After some time, the child broke the heavy silence with a simple song.
Immediately upon recognizing what the child was singing, the man’s mind became clear and present. He at once realized that he was responsible for making this singing child. He’d created a creator and the sound of the child’s voice connected the man to the source of an immeasurable joy that could not be explained.
It occurred to the father–had he heard a master vocalist perform the same piece of music, flawlessly and with all the skill, tone, and dynamics of a Pavarotti, he would’ve been unmoved. A singer with an accurate execution, expertise, and emotional delivery could never have pleased him nearly as much as the soft, undeveloped voice of this youngster. The song sang “perfectly” would have lacked all its meaning.
This was because the tender little creature sang without pride or self-consciousness, thoughtfully and happily with focus and purity. It was not a performance, not intended for an audience. This child, whom the father loved, sang without being asked, without fear of judgment and with no concept or expectation of recognition or reward. Merely expressing a heart-filled wonder, the child sang for no reason other than it was what the child was
m o v e d
to do at that moment. For this reason, it was a resounding and powerful voice that resonated as flawless with the father.
Flawless. Even though the child had a weak vocabulary–many of the words were barely discernable–and conjoined with a tune, the child’s enunciation quickly worsened. From a technical standpoint the child got it all wrong: omitting words and singing others in the wrong order. The pitch was imprecise. The melody was broken. The tempo was unsteady. And it was the loveliest sound that had ever graced the father’s ears.
Any serious critic would’ve considered the song nothing but a noise fallen short of the mark, a cacophony of significant errors and artistic offenses, but it was genuine and true. And the father could not have imagined a more beautiful noise. The child sang with joy and the child’s joy was the father’s joy.
Week 3 posts
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(contributed by Adam Kenyon)

Hope it makes you enjoy your family and the small momnets like it did me!