The Hand of the Virtuoso

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The room fell quiet as the Spirit hushed our verbal prayers simultaneously.

Months ago, Tara and I prioritized intercession during our time 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 has blessed us abundantly. 

Yet, this day proved different. Words escaped us, and we silently waited for 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 lift upward, leaning toward a glimpse of His glory. 

As we stretched toward His Presence, my mind’s 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 fixed on 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 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 it fully characterized peace and pleasure. As the instrument, I did nothing to produce the tune but rest on the tailpin while He played. His touch coaxed the desired refrain as I anticipated His following note.

Within a few measures, the music enriched and enlarged. A violin’s separate yet harmonious sound 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 tuned Tara’s instrument in unison 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 that 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.

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

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?
A piece of marble in the Hand of the Sculptor?

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

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