that every song sung, every word given, every testimony shared, and every thought considered about God is somehow still out there, not in the charts perhaps but in the heavens.
I imagine, as well, that heaven is full of beautiful music, music from every place and every era of the world. As long as people have had voices and instruments it seems they have sung with their heads towards the sky and I’d like to think that some of that makes its way to God’s presence. I suppose at first everything would sound like noise until its focus made everything clear and its harmonies emerge.
Maybe at least part of what makes heaven heaven is that we’ll all be, by God’s grace, virtuosos of one kind or another.
The Beautiful Path 