I can feel the vibrations of the strings under the calloused tips of my fingers. Pressing down with all my might, I try to make sure I leave no strings forgotten. Carefully tucking each away into its own special place, I treat each long, seemingly meaningless piece of metal like it's my child, equally and utterly as important as the next. It all seems so redundant, moving around the frets, going through the motions of each chord...literally. Why does it matter? Why do I continually put myself through the callousing and cramping in order to make these wretched sounds come out of this hollow, wooden contraption?
The answer, quite simply...necessity. I have a need to do this thing now, to practice and practice and practice until it bores me; to listen to a song over and over and yet hear something different each time; merely to feel the vibrations underneath my fingers. It has become a drug, and I'm not ready to go into withdrawal...nor will I ever be.
We, us, humans, are much like that hollow, wooden contraption. Without someone using us, we make no music. If we sit around and just remain hollow, we are meaningless! A guitar doesn't make sounds in and of itself...no. It projects the sounds, the music, that its master has created within it. Our master, our Father, wants to play us, to show off so to speak. He has a message through the music of our lives. A message of salvation for the world. But, until we allow ourselves as hollow, wooden contraptions, to be used for his glorious music, we are again meaningless.
So, become no longer a hollow, wooden contraption propped up against the wall. Rather, be willing to be used by the Father, to project his music, his message, to the world.
