I once asked--
If I could understand music, would I lose my love for it? If I knew what made it do what it does, would it replace some of the awe? If I could unravel its secrets, analyze it, view the sound through an equation, would it then cease to amaze?
And so I wondered, intrigued by sounds I could not decipher, with the extent of my musical knowledge limited to mere appreciation.
I by no means understand music, but with every secret revealed, the love for the sound is heightened. Every time some notation on staff paper begins to make sense, I crave more. Every time I hear a musician play a theme I have heard before, I listen with expectation, hearing not only the beauty that was already there, but the interpretation, and it adds a brilliance I could not see before. It's like I had once appreciated a painting through colorblind vision. And for the first time the colors have taken on their own unique hue.
I once asked--
If I could comprehend the mind of God, would I still seek Him? If I devoted my life to studying His Word, would I still desire the moments spent in His Word? If I sought a deeper understanding of theological issues, would I lose the quiet awe of His simple truths?
And so I wondered and realized that as I grow content at where I am spiritually, the passion dims. The excuses form. The apathy sets in. Even the need is somehow hidden. It's still there, but willing ignorance and spiritual contentment keep it from view.
I by no means understand God. But, the more I seek Him, the more I want to know Him. The more I understand of Him, the more I realize I have yet to learn of Him. A passage memorized becomes my companion late into the night. Messages preached from beloved verses are blessings unique to my heart. And I can embrace the truths of Scripture, not with full comprehension, but with a desire to know more. I can meditate on His promises without fear that such thinking will grow old.