The Things That Are Not
But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are.
I Corinthians 1:27-28
The song of bending trees rose on the wind thinly, like sadness.
Melancholy minors waltzed through the crisp morning air under steel-gray skies. It was as if I was eavesdropping on a composer while he created a melody to match the day.
Soon the percussion of raindrops filled in silent pauses, completing the score.
God was at His instrument, and I was His audience.
A tree has no musical skill. The rain cannot read music.
Yet in the hands of the Master, nature sings.
Some days I am like a tree, bending and bowing in the winds of change and pressure. On other days I am like the rain, falling, falling, falling, splattering, messy.
My God stands over me, His arms flailing like a mad composer, commanding the winds. They turn in their course and make music of me. The reckless rains become rhythm and peace flows from my soul.
The thing that was not has suddenly become something beautiful in the hands of the Master.
Do you feel like a thing that is not? A weak thing, an unimportant vessel, an unnoticed servant? Do you have little to give today?
God uses exactly such a one.
I heard the story of a man who aspired to be a great musician. He was enamored with the violin, and it was his great dream to play it well. But no matter how hard he tried, he just could not master the delicate stringed instrument. One day, he attended a charity concert featuring a renowned master violinist. The master held in his hands a violin crafted nearly two centuries earlier, and the music he drew from its strings was so sweet grown men wept as they listened.
At the end of the event, the master’s antique violin would be auctioned. Eagerly, the man competed for the bid and won. Surely with this fine violin, he would achieve his dream. Taking home his prize, he held the beautiful instrument like a baby, dreaming of the music they would make together.
Yet when he tried to play it, his music sounded no better than it had on his bargain-basement violin. He now owned an exquisite instrument, but unlike the master, he lacked the skill to make it sing.
The song we sing is determined by the hands that hold us. Music comes from the Master, not the instrument. #worship Share on XGod turns trees into wind instruments, and rain into percussion. In the hands of the Master, even a bargain-basement violin can sing. Can He not turn the things that are not, the small, weak things in our lives, into worship?
I know He can, and He does.
What hands hold you today, little instrument?
Master, take me in Your hands today and make my life a symphony. Amen.
Image by Vladimír Sládek from Pixabay
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