Grooves In The Guitar

What's the best doggone gift you ever received for a birthday or holiday? Hands down, without hesitation, the best gift I was ever given was my Taylor 514ce guitar nearly ten years ago. My wife knew it was my dream guitar, and over a period of several weeks she schemed and connived and got one bought for me. I had NO idea whatsoever, but all my friends were in on it, and she got everybody to chip in. I was dumbfounded when they presented it to me at a worship rehearsal we were all at together.

Now, I'm no fantastic player (my 13 year old son is the speed freak), but I love to chug out some pretty chords for the Savior. And these (nearly) 10 years have taken their toll on my cedar topped Taylor.

I've worn away a lot of wood from around the bottom of the sound hole. Fortunately, the abalone inlay appears to be impervious to my picking. One recent evening playing with our youth band, I tore open the skin on the first knuckle on the index finger of my strumming hand and literally bled all over my guitar. Those black spots inside aren't dirt . . .

I used to feel so awful when my beautiful instrument started to show signs of wear. I felt ashamed actually, thinking I must be doing something wrong. Then I started to notice other guy's guitars; there are some pretty worn out guitars on stages all over this planet (Willie Nelson, anyone?). Even Bob Taylor, creator and founder of Taylor Guitars, says that he loves to see one of his guitars with dings, dents and lots of mileage on it - it means that it's been played and used and loved. So, I guess I don't mind the age showing on my guitar. I daresay it sounds even better now (if that's possible) than it did new.

Which leads me to my point: the older I get, the more "damage" I seem to sustain. I've got scars, dents, imperfections - proof of hard use. I've been bloodied by life a time or two, but the beautiful thing of it is, my merciful God keeps changing my strings, keeping me polished, and playing better and more beautiful music on me with each passing year. I'm realizing that I'm nothing more than an instrument, and though I wish I could look a little better than I do inside, frankly I don't care if I reach the end of this life as a worn out stump as long as I've been used well in the hands of the Master.

Please check out this coincidentally-somewhat-related-and-very-cool-post. Thanks, Chris.