When I was 11 years old my mom bought me my first guitar—a black and red beauty, wrapped in a plastic bag, and hanging by the checkout counter at Thrifty's. At 14 years old I was given the chance to lead worship for youth group and I haven't put the instrument down since. Over the past 40 years of playing, there has truly been something about the guitar that has gone beyond wood, and steel, and finger pain. It has become a communication device. And by that I mean God explains himself to me through it. I haven't decided whether this is a wonderful fringe benefit of music or the intended purpose for it all along.
Playing the guitar slackens the tension in my heart. I do not know all the dynamics of it, but it somehow has the power to break human complexity down to divine simplicity. This is a serious life-saving attribute for a person like me. When I reach the end of myself and I have no answers for any of the questions that call for timely resolutions, I look for my guitar. Some might label it a crutch. Well then, let's label oxygen a crutch as well.
Playing the guitar, for me, slows the heartbeat of life, dials down the heat, and turns down the volume. Excuse me now; I think I'll go pick up my guitar....
