Today, I put new strings on my guitar.
It was like being reintroduced to an old, neglected friend. My plan was to replace just one string which I knew had broken. But as I looked upon the darkened, dirty strings, that by now would let out a dead, dull sound, I took a moment to reflect.
These strings once rung out praises as I would furiously and joyously filled the air with sound meant for Him, meant to invite and draw hearts to join in the eternal song. I remembered the little faces that looked to me with brightness in their eyes and joyous wonder as we sang, laughed, clapped and danced together. It was a supernatural and surreal experience to see these little one's lights turn on, to see them experiencing the joy and wonder of the knowledge and presence of God. To see their hearts and souls awaken, for perhaps the first time, to their Creator. To experience a taste of a God who's glory is wider, louder and more expansive than the universe, but who is loving enough to tell their little, vulnerable hearts- 'You are mine. I know you. I love you. I won't hurt you. My attention is totally for you. Walk with me' with all the quietness and gentleness of the most loving father.
There weren't many of them, but I looked at each individual- a world, a universe, a consiousness all of their own. They would never looked through anyone else's eyes but their own. And they were worth all the prayer, preparation and seeking-after-God for their souls. Every one of them. I loved having the kids of that church in my pastoral care. I loved serving families and working with the parents to help them raise incredible God-warriors, secure in His love.
The memories echoed in my mind as my eyes ran up and down these strings that had deadened with time and neglect. Sure, I had used the guitar for my work at times. But I never felt the need to change those strings for some reason. It seemed I had to put the guitar down more years ago than I had realized- a time when the very foundations of my faith were swept from underneath me and I was left to circle what felt like a never ending whirlpool, waiting for the drain to swallow me. I had to watch those little ones I had led watch me almost drown before their eyes as I went from jumping around at the front of the church to sitting at the back, head-in-hands, using every ounce of strength that I had left to scream at my soul 'You will not get up. You will not walk away. You will stay seated here. If it's all you can do. God will come through'. I cried when I left that church for the first time. Hopefully, the children I served were not discouraged. Hopefully they saw someone what it looked like for someone to seek after God, both in a time of feast and a time of famine.
I was going through a dark night of the soul. I was going through a trial that rocked me to my very foundations. I refused to ignore my questions, my struggles. If I had anything at all, it was that I would be honest, transparent. And that meant my life would look messy. I refused to put on a mask. But I always knew that I knew, that if God was real, which I believed He was, that He would come through. There would be a point to all this. It would be at the point when there would be nothing left of me and I was in a place of pure desperation, He would come through. He had to. And He did. I could have easily numbed myself and lied to myself. But I knew God was wanting to build something deeper in me, something that would last. It was so very painful, but I believe God has given me the foundations I longed so deeply for and fought so hard for with sweat and tears into the early hours of many mornings. He answered my questions. He has spoken to my spirit and I know that I know that I am a child of God. I know that Jesus is the beginning and the end and each day is a choice to build on Him.
Tomorrow, I am embarking on a new season. I will be plugging in my guitar. Hearing the echo of my amplified voice in a microphone and when I look up I will see a crowd of children who don't know me. It will be up to me to point them to Jesus. It will be my responsibility to worship God with all my heart, all my mind, all my soul and all my strength and hope that the crowd of eyes looking at me will want to follow. I'll do it with the love language of laughter and fun. I'll do it with prayer and a smiling seriousness when needed. I'm terrified and battling with the usual feeling of being way out of my depth when I start something new. But I know that each time I have felt this way before and have run to God for his strength and spirit, that He has come through and it all turns out fine. I don't know, maybe some people will see it as just playing a song to some kids while the adults do 'real' worship in the auditorium. But to me, the privilege, honour and terror of bringing a child a metaphorical glass of water in Jesus' name, bringing them to the real Living Water.
So as I put on these new strings- bright, fresh and with the ring and shimmer of youth- I do it with a smile and a deep, indescribable sense of a refreshed soul. I do it with a sense that the time is right and a new season is beginning. I know there will be challenges to come and a life after Jesus is a life that will have suffering, but I know that God is building in me an everlasting inheritance, and a strengthened spirit that will be able to withstand ever increasing pressures as I step out. All I have within me is the name of Jesus burning in my bones like never before and I can't wait to speak it and the life it brings to more and more souls- young AND old.
