An Instrument Forgotten

Driving to the camp site to speak to some lovely ladies about leadership, I knew I was not up to the task. I knew that I was not the leader I wished to be and therefore, I was certainly unqualified to share the intricacies of the subject.

Yet, here I was. Bible in hand, confidence in heart and wonder in mind. I am always much more confident to share something when I know I am completely unqualified. It’s in those situations I know perfectly that God will do the talking.

I had studied, I had prepared, but He would do the communicating. I was sure of it.

As I prayed that morning, I asked the Holy Spirit to pray for me. To not just speak for me later, but to pray for me now. Words that I cannot account for were present on my tongue and I heard myself say aloud, “Make me an instrument forgotten.”

I let that settle for a while. A long while. I continued in prayer and the speaking went well, but those words hung around me for weeks, and still linger in my pockets, at the edge of my fingertips, ready to remind me of who I am.

An accomplished musician can take the stage and bring an audience to it’s feet, to it’s knees and to it’s feet again. Their ability to bring emotion though an order of notes, timing, vibrancy and harmony is amazing to me. I am so impressed when, even without the luxury of lyrics, a song can touch deeply into my soul and take me places, impress me, seemingly fill me with unaccountable emotion. It takes a very good musician to do that. Someone who is experienced, someone who has spent time with music and with their instrument.

I have never, after being moved by a performing musician, gone to the stage and asked the instrument for it’s autograph. I have never stood beside the artists cello and had my photo taken. I’ve never written a letter or given a review on the instrument. The instrument is only the tool. It is the partner to the musician, but it can do nothing on it’s own. Typically, not always, the instrument is forgotten. A majority of those who listen to music, not all, will remember the name of the artist, not the color of their guitar, or the brand of pic they use. Instruments are forgotten by the general audience…

…but not the artist.

If you know an accomplished musician, you know they have certain instruments they prefer to work with, they have favorite brands, for their timbre, resonance and the ability to tune it to their liking. Many guitarists have a favorite guitar. It feels right in their hands and against their body, it blends well with their voice, it tunes easily, it resonates perfectly and probably looks good with their boots.

A good musician loves his instrument.

When a musician finds an instrument he loves, he will rarely use anything else. When he needs to make an impression, he will take his best instrument. When he wants to move people with his song, he will take his best instrument. When he faces crowds that would intimidate some, he is confident because his instrument is ready to be used, to be tuned to the building, to be manipulated for the purpose of conveying a great message.

The instrument though, is largely forgotten by those who needed the song.

I want to be that instrument.

Not because I like being ignored by people, but because I want to be loved by the artist.

If I am talented, if I am burning with truth that needs telling, if I am well versed in Scripture and story, but unable to be tuned to the Artist, I am useless to Him.

“If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

Love is the key He sings in. Love is the truth He desires to convey. He is love, and I am only His, if I am able to love. Putting others before myself. Finding joy in the success of others, living to please Him first, others second and myself last. This is where the tuning finds resistance. This is where He discovers who He can sing with, who will endure the pain of adjustment, of change, of matching His resonance instead of insisting on their own way.

What perfect joy though, to give way to His stretching and pulling of our strings, and find that being forgotten by man has no significance when compared to being in harmony with Him.