Feeling Dusty

At my church they have been doing a series and in the midst of it our pastor has been sharing portions of the poem “The Master’s Hand”. He borrowed an almost 300 year old violin as part of the illustration.

This past Sunday the person who owns the violin came out and played it for us and a rich a beautiful sound filled the auditorium. As the violin was being played and during some of the comments made by our pastor regarding he poem, I found many thoughts popping into my head regarding my current situation and just my life in general. Here is the poem in case you have never read it.

“Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar – now who”ll make it two _
Two dollars, and who”ll make it three?

“Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three”. . . but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: “What am I bidden for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow;
“A thousand dollars – and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand – and who’ll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice
And going – and gone,” said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand –
What changed its worth?” The man replied:
“The touch of the masters hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and torn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd.
Much like the old violin.

A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on,
He’s going once, and going twice –
He’s going – and almost gone!
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd,
Never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul, and the change that’s wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.

~Myra B. Welch

I feel like I am that violin that is just sitting there hanging on a rack just waiting for someone to come by and use me. I know that God has called me and gifted me, which has made this time all that much harder. I just have a desire to be a part of something bigger than myself where I can use the tools that God has given me for His glory. For whatever reason He has chosen to put me in a place where I am not able to do that at this time, but I know that there is a place where I one day will be able to do so.

It is just hard to not get those “battered and scarred” feelings. Instead I will just keep hanging around until I find that place where someone recognizes the worth and value that is there and takes me down, tightens the strings and plays a beautiful melody that will touch the lives of those that hear.

I am a follower of Jesus, a husband to Kim, father to Hannah & Caleb, and the connections pastor at The River Church. The thoughts expressed here are my own and not The River Church's.

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