On a number of occasions I’ve come across the story of Mendelssohn and the Freiburg organ. The story may be apocryphal, but it still serves its purpose as a vivid illustration. I love this telling of the tale by J.R. Miller and the important lesson that accompanies it.
A perfectly holy life would be a perfect song. At the best while on earth, our lives are imperfect in their harmonies—but if we are Christ’s disciples, we are learning to sing while here, and someday the music will be perfect. It grows in beauty and sweetness here just as we learn to do God’s will on earth as it is done in heaven. Only the Master’s hand can bring out of our souls the music that slumbers in them. A violin lies on the table silent and without beauty. One picks it up and draws the bow across the strings, but it yields only wailing discords. Then a master comes and takes it up and he brings from the little instrument the most marvelous music. Other men touch our lives and draw from them only jangled notes; Christ takes them, and when He has put the chords in tune
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