Writing about the things I do isn’t easy. Honestly, I tiptoe alot to keep my self from sounding like chicken little; that is, a small insignificant nobody who everyone thinks is just scared and crazy. 
I’m sure some people may color me as a religious nut who is using a book to explain the things I do not understand…That I receive my comfort from believing in a tale of a grand wizard in the sky…That I am simple minded. I am not here to prove God’s existence. He does not need me for that. He has already placed that knowledge in the hearts of us all (Romans 1:20). Furthermore I am not here to argue Jesus’s deity. Jesus reigns. He sits at the right side of the creater, His father in Heaven. Jesus reigned long before the foundation of the Earth was formed. He reigned long before the first Christian church assembled. Truthfully God doesn’t need me to accomplish anything in this modern world. I write this simply because I want to. I want to be utilized by God. That’s why He made me. That’s why He made each and everyone of us. I am an instrument; we all are. We desire to be used. When God uses us, the melody that is brought forth is beautiful. The rhythm He draws out of us inspires. His song becomes an anthem of hope. It changes the way we move; the way we dance. When a group of saints assemble, a breathtaking symphony is played. Hearts are compelled. Lives are changed. No one who hears these melodies can ever be the same. And it’s all due to The Great Composer, The Great I Am. Now in a large house there are not only gold and silver vessels, but also vessels of wood and of earthenware, and some to honor and some to dishonor. Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from these things, he will be a vessel for honor, sanctified, useful to the Master, prepared for every good work. (2 Timothy 2:20)Since we were designed to be instruments we will either be used by God or played by someone else. Refusing to be used by God does not change our design. In the past, I have allowed myself to be an instrument of pseudo-composers. It has always ended the same way. I would be picked up and played. The sound that would come from me was that of nails being dragged across a chalkboard. Those self proclaimed musicians would quickly become bored with me and cast me away as garbage.  

Once I was thrown down, I got trampled on. I thought it would be impossible for music to ever come from me again. Lying among a heap of garbage, I never lost the desire to sing. And The Great Composer never lost interest in casting me a part in His grand orchestra. It was a wonderful day returning to my creator. I was broken, yet that didn’t matter to Him. He didn’t see what I was. He saw all I could be. He saw my design. Since He engineered me, He knew exactly how to put me back together. As He reassembled me, He revealed to me my motivation. My motivation is my function. My function is my purpose. My purpose is to be His Instrument. But the Lord said to him, “Go, for he is a chosen instrument of Mine, to bear My name before the Gentiles and kings and the sons of Israel (acts 9:15)

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