The story of one finger and a world of change

Two years ago, I had an accident at work. I sliced up the tip of my left index finger and had to go to the E.R. After getting six stitches and a finger guard, I made sure to be extra careful with razor blades thereafter.

Never underestimate the importance of even one little finger. That finger has the great honor of typing eight middle keys: 4,5, R, T, F, G, V and B. For the first couple of weeks, my middle finger was working overtime and I made mistakes on every sentence I typed.

At one point if I put my two index fingers together, I looked like I was stuck in a Chinese finger trap.

Like.
So.

If that wasn't enough, I soon developed a whole-body rash in reaction to the preventive antibiotic. What a lovely feeling. After two weeks, I had my stitches taken out. And so began the awkward stage of dry, peeling, nasty skin on my fingertip. Thankfully, now all I'm left with is a slightly noticeable indent running along the tip of my index finger.

But for a while, I couldn't even press a button with that finger. At the slightest touch, my shiny new scar sent a loud warning shot of pain through my nerves. Yet another temporary symptom of the healing process.

Again, it's been two years, but since then I've had many big, bad thoughts about that one teeny, tiny injury.

• I keep wondering how long this scar is going to stay. It's still noticeable right now, and my fingerprint has been slightly altered. But my hands seem to change and heal much faster than the rest of me. I once had a mole on the very tip of my pinky - it disappeared over time, much to my chagrin.

• For a short time, I experienced the palpable feeling of helplessness because of this one finger that I had to keep covered so that the stitched up end wouldn't get banged up. It made me realize that "mind over matter" is an altogether unrealistic philosophy to live out, because even the smallest physical change can cause a whirlwind of chain reactions that ultimately affect my thought process and even influence what I'm thinking about. 

• I never noticed how many things my hands slammed into throughout the day before the injury called my attention to it. I found out that my limbs can take quite a beating when I'm not paying attention!

• Scars are amazing. Not only does your body stitch itself back together using fluids specifically for that purpose, but while doing so, it ensures that the section of skin that's being repaired will end up much stronger than before. My finger is now reinforced with extra protection against unwieldy blades!

• I'm pretty grateful that I still have all of my fingers. Such a multi-purpose appendage is certainly not the most important part of the body, but it does perform some useful tasks. It points—it can help lead someone in the right direction, or it can beckon someone closer. It pushes buttons—with one push, this finger can take me up 10 floors or provides me with cool, refreshing water. It grasps—my grip is average, but my grip with a stiff index finger was atrocious.

• At times, I have felt like a bandaged index finger in the Body of Christ. Calling back to the useful functions it performs when it is working, I remember the various ways I helped out in my old church back when I felt that I was thriving spiritually. I sang in the worship team, operated the video booth, co-led a study group of middle-school girls and helped with VBS. But when that church split, I floundered. For a few years, I floated around in life, not committing to a church, self-sabotaging friendships, forgetting to study the Bible and forgetting to spend one-on-one prayer time with the most important person in the universe. But, you know what? I think the bandage has come off now. The stitches, too. They started itching ages ago and had to be cut. Now my new skin is setting, and I will be stronger than ever. God is toughening me up, and soon I will have a beautiful scar. I'm gradually getting more connected in my new church, and I think I'm ready to take the next step and serve. 

Come Thou Fount - a beautiful cacophony

I have mentioned this before, but "Come Thou Fount" is one of my all-time favorite hymns. Not only is the tune wonderfully melodic, but the lyrics have taught and continue to teach me many lessons.

One of these lessons centers on this line: "Tune my heart to sing thy grace."

What does that even mean? Is my heart a musical instrument in need of tuning? Well, possibly.

If you've ever been to an orchestra, you'll be able to relate to the following story I once heard about some ethnographers (anthropologists) who took a man from an african tribe to see a symphony.

The anthropologists were curious to find out what he thought of western music, having never heard it before. After the symphony, they asked him what he thought, and he said that his favorite part was the very beginning. They wondered if he meant the overture, and he said "no, no, the very  beginning!" Finally the ethnographers figured out what he meant. This tribesman's favorite part of the symphony was listening to the orchestra tune their instruments.

I don't know about you, but my reaction to that story was, "well, of course!"

It makes sense that he would love that part the best, not just because it's closer to the style of music he'd grown up with, but because there really is something quite awesome about hearing a whole orchestra tuning their instruments.

In a way, it's very personal. As you hear each instrument squeak and complain as it is being tuned, you get to know what that instrument sounds like apart from the crowd. You also hear how each musician deals with the limitations of his instrument, as you hear one squeak too high, and seconds later, you hear it again in perfect tune. Some instruments never seem to falter, but their players still tune them. Each musician performs an accidental solo before the almost-attentive audience, and yet that solo is still just an echo in the cacophony.

But not all cacophonies have to be ugly. As oxymoronic as it sounds, a little bit of cacophony can be quite beautiful.

What does pre-concert tuning possibly have to do with Christianity?

I think it's a great metaphor for our life with God.

If heaven is the symphony, imagine this life on earth as the practice before the symphony. God is simultaneously - he's omnipresent, after all - the conductor of the orchestra and the player of each instrument. And each of his instruments is one of his disciples, submitting to His will as he faithfully tunes each and every one of them to the perfect pitch they need to be to perform.

The most wonderful part is that in contrast with a symphony on earth, our heavenly symphony - our life after earth - will never end!

Come Thou Fount - My Ebenezer

Come Thou Fount is quickly becoming my favorite hymn. Not only do I have it memorized (a feat that I could previously only say about Amazing Grace), but I keep on finding new ways that it reminds me of my life.

Today's post is about verse two: 

Here I raise mine Ebenezer; hither by thy help I'm come;
and I hope, by thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home. 

Jesus sought me when a stranger, wandering from the fold of God;
he, to rescue me from danger, interposed his precious blood

What is an Ebenezer, and why would I raise it? The answer comes straight out of the Bible. Remember that Sunday School lesson from children's church? The one about Samuel hearing God as a little child and telling Eli that his two disobedient sons would die? Well, it's a pity the teachers don't usually tell what happened next to complete his prophecy, because it's a fascinating story.

It begins in 1 Samuel 4, when the children of Israel brought the ark of the covenant to battle with them, believing that it would help them win against the Philistines. The Philistines quickly figured out that the ark was on the battlefield when the Israelites gave a loud shout of joy. Because of this, the Philistines fought even harder than before because they were so afraid of being killed by Israel's God.

So, of course, the Philistines won because they were trying, and the Israelites lost because they mistakenly thought that having the ark was an instant win.

The ark was then taken as spoils of war, and Eli's two sons who had brought it to battle were killed. The next two chapters describe what it was like for the Philistines to have the ark in their possession. TLDR: If you plan to steal and keep the Ark of the Covenant, you're gonna have a BAD time.

Finally fed up with the tumors and famine the ark was bringing them, the Philistines loaded it up onto a cart and sent it on its way back to Israel, where more shenanigans happened, but the ark eventually made its way back home, where it stayed another 20 years.

But Things weren't quite done yet with the Philistines, and Samuel called for the entire nation of Israel to turn back to God, destroying their idols and repenting, directing their hearts to serve God alone.
This was followed by another battle with the Philistines, which the Israelites won, and were able to drive the Philistines out of the nation's borders.

When all this was done, Samuel set up a stone between Mizpah and Shen, and named it Ebenezer, saying, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.”

So the story has a happy end and brings to the world a lovely concept.

But it was a hard lesson to learn.

Israel had idolized the ark, thinking that God's glory would follow it; not understanding that God's Glory was always in God's will, and God's will was for the nation to learn to trust in His will and not in their own plans.

God speaks to us in many ways, and one of the ways He's used throughout the years is symbolism. Representing a Kingdom concept with a tangible object does wonders for our flesh-based brains. Some of Jesus' most powerful messages were accompanied by physical works. Walking on the water, feeding five thousand, ordering Peter to use a shekel found in a fish to pay taxes... And, of course, everything he said and did during the Last Supper.

I find it appropriate, then, to use a tangible object to symbolize a concept in my own life.

Two years ago, on my 18th spiritual birthday, I went shopping with Jesus. Okay, I went shopping by myself, but since Jesus is in my heart, He was with me while I shopped. Anyway, I went to the mall with one goal in mind: find a special ring to represent my relationship with my Bridegroom, Jesus.

Not really a purity ring, but similar to a promise ring. But more than that, a ring to remind me of His continual grace and renewal in my life. A ring to symbolize in my heart that I have been spiritually circumcised, dead to sin but alive in Christ.

Sound familiar?

Little did I know it then, but Jesus sent me to that mall to get me an Ebenezer. A literal "stone of help" or "stone of remembrance" to wear on my finger and remind me of Him. I was just looking for a simple ring. I didn't expect it to have a stone... but when I saw it and tried it on, I just knew.

First, it was the teardrop shape, for the tears He cried in the garden. Second, it was the way it shone. Moonstone, if you are not familiar with it, reflects light in an unusual way. Instead of just glaring off of its surface, it looks as though the light is coming from within.

For the past two years, it has served as a reminder that my light always comes from Him, and He will always guide me to where I need to go. And when I worship to the familiar strains of Come Thou Fount, I literally raise my Ebenezer.