Drummer Man

It is just after midnight. Silence of the new day starting is upon me. The stars dance in the deep blue sea of the creators most beautiful gems. This makes me think of the moments, emotions and mere human objects that find a way in the oddest way, to make the most sense of tying themselves to proving they were created by something so thoughtful, something only God himself could create. It reminds me of the many things that he also creates deep within our souls, He overflows us with the most beautiful gifts that spread through our smiles, into our fingers tips and as a single note never once getting lost in this bog world so full of white noise.

Imagine a drum set. Circular pieces of various metals and materials. The genetic makeup varies among them just as it does to us as individuals. Some colors are vibrant and flashy calling for attention simply to look at there beautiful exterior and shiny fabrications. Others are intricate, small hardware intertwined, complexity almost to the point where even a well trained musician would ask himself “where is the manual?” The other kind, is that set that has been on stage time and time again. Used. It is full of nicks both on the surface and those that permeate the full depth of its surface.

Your fingers run across it and you can feel what your heart was experiencing the exact moments those sticks struck that cold metal. From the first tap on the snare, you no longer cared what it looked like, or what it was worth, all you knew is that you were in love and it was priceless. It was smooth, pleasant to your ears and holding it in your hands felt like home.

The new set has been polished and presented in a way that is hard to refuse. You know it will never meet your needs or expectations but it screams at you to give it just one chance. You can see its potential and imagine its stunning sillouette once the spot lights hit. Its luminocity will be unarguabley the most beautiful vision your eyes have ever seen but will it allow you to play it? Will it trust you enough to let your hands do the work while it mearly sits there and looks beautiful?

Its beauty is not tainted but its ability to trust is. You need a companion not one that was meant to steal the show. The talent is in the hands that will bring this instrument to life.
If your hands were gifted to make anything come to life, to create something from nothing, than take the set on clearance that comes with passion and appreciation for what it is. It is merely a vessel much like our human selves. A vessel in which we accept that we are not beautiful but God that’s works through us is. The torn and tattered hi hat reminds us of history.

The bass drum pounds through our chest as if we just felt love for the very first time. Our first kiss, the moment a child is born, life itself pours from the reprocussions. The vibrations flow through our fingers or does it flow out of our fingers?

In life we each have different roles, some a leading role, some an accent, and some an end note but in order for us to allow beauty to be created we must first welcome others with the attributes that we do not have. For without them, we would have notes but no music. We would have keys but no harmony. A delicate balance of give and take, ease up and push harder. When to hold on and when to let go.

Some days we all want so badly to be that bass drum. To be able to make a entrance all its own. To reach others with one blow. To appear so confident and bold. Some days we wish to merely pitter patter as a tap tap tap through life contributing but not really causing a scene or drawing attention to ones self, a simple meoldy. Predictable and repetitive.

I however see God as the complete set. Father, Son, Holy Spirit. All separate components, offering something distincitvly different and identifiable, yet when intertwined you cannot pull one sound from the other, for the minute they join, they become one.

Your heart is racing and your foot is stomping. The sticks twirling between your fingers. Life is at your finger tips, death is at its drum and all of life in between in resting in the sequence that lies ahead. How fast, how slow, how soft, how hard. You make the music but the instrument creates it. This I imagine to be how God saw us when he first thought of us. He made us but it is up to us to create and to allow him to create through us.

As all great things have a beginning and an end, when the sticks slap down on the crash cymbol, much like when the Lord said “it is done”. While the pages of black and white and highs and lows often seens tedious, between the lines is a freedom to express. Your eyes are closed and as colored lights dance across your lids. The warmth of the spot lights, the glare of the snare and the taste of creation upon your lips. You can taste the sound of sweetness and feel release pulsing through your hands. You can feel life bubbling through your blood and pouring out into your fingers. Your arms begin to move, notes begin to form and life begins to flow.

This moment must be how it feels to breath for the very first time. Nothing you expected, more than you hoped for and everything you ever needed. I guess the cliché saying holds true “Heaven is not a place you go when you die, rather it is a moment in life where you actually feel alive”