What do Bach’s Prelude in C Major, the hymn Amazing Grace, and Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World have in common?
They’re all written in major keys.
In music, major keys are often associated with brightness and joy, while minor keys tend to evoke melancholy, longing, or sadness. But some of the most beautiful compositions are written in minor keys. Think of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata or the haunting melody of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.
I’ve spent much of my life sitting at a piano, and one thing I’ve learned is that we don’t dismiss a piece of music simply because it’s written in a minor key. We listen. We appreciate it. Sometimes, we even find ourselves returning to it.
Life is a little like that, isn’t it?
We love our major-key moments: celebrations, answered prayers, laughter with friends, and those days when everything seems to fall into place.
But then there are the minor-key seasons. The unexpected disappointments. The unanswered questions. The days when we feel a little out of tune with the world around us.
And sometimes, if we’re honest, we’d rather skip those passages altogether.
But what if the minor-key moments have something to teach us, too?
Ecclesiastes begins with Solomon’s words, “Vanity of vanities.” Yet in chapter 3, we’re reminded that there is a season for everything: a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.
Perhaps life was never meant to be played entirely in a major key.
This year, I found myself in a minor-key season I hadn’t anticipated. For the first time in a long while, I began questioning something I had always believed was part of who I was: my calling as a teacher.
Stepping away from the familiar routines of life gave me something I hadn’t realized I needed—time. Time to reflect, to rediscover passions I had set aside, and to ask questions I had been too busy to consider.
My mornings took on a different rhythm. There was time to pray, read, and put my thoughts into words in my journal.
Nothing extraordinary, really. Just simple, familiar practices. Yet somewhere in those quiet mornings, my reflections began to come alive. I found myself listening more closely, asking questions I hadn’t asked before, and becoming more aware of God’s presence.
Looking back, I find it remarkable that during a season when so much of my life felt uncertain, my relationship with God grew stronger.
The challenge, of course, is to keep playing, even when life remains in a minor key. To recognize God’s love and His presence, even when life around me feels anything but beautiful.
I may not always get to choose the key in which life is played, but I’m learning to appreciate the beauty God reveals in every season.
—Alicia Keyer, occasionally playing in the wrong key, but always showing up