Carving

“It’s like carving. Just cut away what you don’t need.”

The 6 string guitar has 2 strings missing. It’s been retuned and is a mandolin guitar and the ten year old boy who’s playing with it is determined to play it his way.

He presses his finger on one string but strums the others, so that you can’t hear the difference of that one string. They tell him not to play like that. He doesn’t listen. His dad compares the music to carving.

Immediately, I see an old man sitting on his front porch in the summer, with a knife in one hand and his carving in the other. He is sure. He is comfortable. He’s been doing this for years. He feels the grain of the wood and when he cuts it, he is gentle, but firm. And when he is done, he knows the feeling of exactness. Of knowing that he cut out only what was not needed. What is left he knows is the beauty.

The musician is the same way, I guess. He cuts out the extra stuff he doesn’t need. A real artist knows what elements are absolutely necessary. And he knows what can go. He knows the rules so well that he can break them.

And we are left with is the heart. The beauty. The song. The carving.

I wonder if I’m like this boy with the mandolin guitar.

God is the old man on the front porch with the knife. He’s the musician who knows where to press his finger and where to strum, to get just the right sounds. But it’s no fun. I’m the guitar that doesn’t have enough strings. I’m the wood that’s getting sliced up. I know the rules, but I’m not sure I like having them bended. I don’t understand that.

I tell him to refine me, to make me more like him. But it means a lot of who I think I am, gets carved out. Gets left unplayed.

I’m so determined to hold onto the unnecessary parts.

Slowly, I think, I hope, I’m learning to not yell at God about the rules I’ve created in my own mind. I know that he’s sure. He is comfortable. He’s been doing this for years. He feels the grain of my soul and he is gentle, but firm. And when he is done, I’ll know exactness. Of knowing that he cut out only what was not needed. We’ll see beauty.

He’s cutting out the extra stuff I don’t need. He’s the artist and I’m the element. He knows what can go and knows the rules so well that he can break them.

And I’ll be left with a heart. Beauty. I’ll have a new song. I’m a new creation.

“Lord, cut out the parts of me that aren’t necessary. Just cut away what I don’t need.”