New Beginnings

Today, the Lord and I had a conversation at church, my first Sunday not playing with the praise team. I cried through the music. Couldn't sing a word. It was painful. I'd glance up at the music stand I had sat at and just cry. Something was being taken away,  and even though I was willing for it to happen, it hurt.

Yet, today something else happened. I answered God's call to take back the mantle of being an active elder in the church. It requires the same commitment I gave to help lead worship. As I answered the required questions about my faith and commitment I felt earnest, yet not overwhelmed. But when the time came for other elders to lay hands on me and pray, I felt a burden lift. By the end of the service I was smiling. There is a weight of responsibility in being an elder  actively serving, but I didn't feel that. I distinctly felt a burden lifted. I was at a fork in the road, and made the decision to walk the path leading in a different direction.

My Pastor's sermon was about new beginnings, the dawning of God's light illuminating a new thing. I felt it was for me. God talking to me as though I was the only one there. Then we had communion, and nothing so moves me as that. I cannot take communion without tears. It's a visible manifestation of God's grace poured out fresh. I get very real with the Lord with communion. Maybe it's my Lutheran roots, but I take communion very seriously. It's not just a symbol, a reenactment. I meet God practically face-to-face in the bread and cup. My soul is laid bare and I can only pray for mercy. It always comes. God has never passed me by. In remembering his death, I experience the depth of his love all over again.

This blog entry is a little disjointed, I think, but a lot happened in the service. I'm being called to a new thing and God will give me all the grace I need to do what he wants. Just as he has down through the past nearly forty years of playing guitar in worship for churches.  I know I can always sit in with the praise team. Another guitar player may show up and that would be awesome, but they'd still welcome me to play on a Sunday. But I know there has been an internal shift. My focus is being redirected and I will embrace what God has planned and be open. And part of that is the desire to write even more.

So, as I just toss these thoughts down on digital paper, I'm looking at the guitar I have played for the past forty plus years and understand my way of serving is changing and arthritic fingers can manage to type easier than play steel strings. God never ceases to amaze me, and he always will.