A Well-Tuned Instrument

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The room fell quiet as the Spirit seemed to simultaneously hush our verbal prayers.

Months ago, Tara and I prioritized intercession in our times together. Opening our Bibles in prayer, we eagerly await His direction for our friends, our church, and our world by allowing HIs Word to pilot ours. He has guided us into many “ah-ha” moments as we ask Him for wisdom and insight, as well as blessed abundantly.

Yet, this day proved different. Words escaped us and and we sat in silence, just waiting for what we thought would be His direction and prompting.

Waiting often reminds us of passages in the Psalms where David stirs himself toward patient watching. But on this day, our waiting made us keenly aware of His nearness. Our emphasis changed from wanting to know something to wanting to know Someone. As we sought Him, I sensed our hearts expand and tilt upward, leaning toward a glimpse of His glory.

As we stretched toward His Presence, my minds’ eye suddenly saw an image. Two large and gentle Hands reached for my heart. When His fingertips met my soul, I realized the form of my heart was one of a stringed instrument. Unexpectedly, but quite naturally, He began to tune my heart like a master musician adjusting His instrument for proper pitch.

Although I could see my own strings, neck, fingerboard and tuning pegs, these were not what riveted my attention. My sight was fixed toward His active Hands, not my stationary cello. I trembled as He deftly tightened or loosed the strings one by one, tweaking them to resonate with His own inner frequency.

Within moments, the dissonance faded and His fingers gently coaxed a singular melody from my tremulous heart. Low and weighty, the sonorous sound wasn’t a song I recognized, yet was fully characterized by peace. As the instrument, I did nothing to produce the tune, but rest on the tail-pin while He played. His touch coaxed His desired refrain as I anticipated His next note.

After a few measures, the music enriched and enlarged. The separate yet harmonious sound of a violin began to blend with the initial tune. Lustrous and bright, resonant and lyrical, this higher strain not only added pleasure to the Musician, but also to me His instrument.

He had joined Tara’s instrument in union with mine.

I would like to say that we sat in silence for hours while He coaxed His melody from our hearts. The truth is that I was so excited, I broke the silence to hear what Tara was sensing. Her eyes were large as she testified, “I didn’t see what you saw, but I did feel it.”

I’m sure our experience that day isn’t singular, but has been shared over the years by many eager seekers. After all, if we are clay in the Hands of our Master Potter (Jeremiah 18:6), could we not be other mediums in His Hand?

An instrument in the Hand of the Musician
A canvas under the Hand of the Artist
A raw mineral in the Hand of the Gemcutter
A loom in the Hand of the Weaver
Marble in the Hand of the Sculptor

May His Hand have freedom to draw His best from each of us. Even so Lord Jesus, come.