Thursday, August 21, 2008

• God Silenced Me, and I Learned

   by mr pine

  

  My gift is my song....and this one's for You.

  On my online profile, there are four pictures of me and one of my guitar.  This is because if most people know anything about me, it's that I play guitar and sing.  I can't tell you how many people approach me and say, "Hey, you're that guy who plays/played guitar at such-and-such church, right?"  It's been both something that differentiates me from others and something that confines me into a box.  What most people don't know is what I'm going to share now.

  When I was a kid, my little brother and sister would plug up their ears and pretend that they were dying whenever I started to sing.  I think I even made my brother cry at one point.  So for the longest time I thought that I had a terrible voice and refused to sing in front of people.

  Then in my sophomore year of college the pastor at my church encouraged me to learn how to play the guitar.  He actually gave me pointers and encouraged me to play for praise nights on Saturday evenings.  I didn't actually own a guitar so I used my dad's old classical guitar that was given to him back in 1966.  I truly have to ask for forgiveness from the youth and college group back then because, boy, did I struggle.  I would play the wrong chords or just stop in the middle of a song while I looked for the next chord to play.  It was rough.  But as the months passed, I got better and better.  Eventually I was good enough to lead praise during the main service (which was not all that great, but no one else knew how to play besides the pastor).  But something was wrong....

  My early college years were a dark time for me.  Prior to my attending that church, I had stopped going to church for about a year.  I lived a very secular life, and it carried into the time that I was attending my college church.  It even extended into when I was leading praise for the church.  I remember thinking, "these people have no clue what a hypocrite I am... Here I am singing praises to God, but my heart couldn't be any less sensitive to the Holy Spirit if it tried."  But it didn't stop me.  I figured no one would know, it gave me notoriety, and it's not like anyone else can play in place of me... so I have to do it.  Well, someone knew what was in my heart... and He was just waiting for the opportune moment to teach me a life-long lesson.

  One morning I woke up and I could not talk.  I remember talking the night before and not even being hoarse.  But this morning I would try to form the words, but all that would escape my lips was a raspy whisper.  At first I wasn't worried.  I figured I had laryngitis or something.  Then a week passed... then another... then another.... still no voice.  I was starting to get really worried.  A month had passed before I even thought about seeing a doctor.  When I did, he really didn't provide any answers.  He said I had acute laryngitis and that all I could really do was gargle with salt water and hope to get my voice back soon.

  Another month passed. I went back to the doctor who was a little bit surprised that I still didn't have my voice back.  He then referred me to a ear/nose/throat specialist who used an optical camera to look down my throat.

  He asked, "How long has your voice been this way?"

  "Two months... " I whispered.

  "And you have seen no improvement?"  he inquired.

  "I think it's actually gotten worse," I squeeked out.

  He then gave me a handful of prescriptions and said to check back with him if I started getting my voice back.

  One... two... three... four weeks go by - and nothing.  I couldn't participate in labs, I couldn't ask questions in class, and I couldn't lead praise on Saturdays and Sundays.  Even ordering a burrito from Taco Bell became a huge ordeal.  When I wrote down what I wanted, the guy would start yelling at me like I was deaf....  DO YOU WANT THE MEAL COMBO FOR THAT?  I wasn't getting any better, so I made another trip to the doctor.  By this point I hadn't heard my own voice for about three months.

  This time there was serious concern in his face after his examination of me.

  "Do you feel any pain or discomfort from your throat?"

  I shook my head "no" with a look on my face of "should I?"

  "Well, I have to be completely honest with you," he continued "I have seen hundreds if not thousands of throats in my career, but I've never seen a larynx as damaged as yours.  It's a wonder you can even breathe when you go to bed."

  I didn't know what to make of that.

  He added, "You may not like hearing this, but there is a chance your vocal cords are irreparably damaged.  It's possible you may never be able to speak again or if you do your voice will be very raspy."

  Stunned silence from my side of the room.

  After a brief pause he appended, "And actually, I would like to take a throat sample and send it in for a biopsy..."

  Wait a minute... biopsy... isn't that when they're checking for cancer?!?!  So I asked him, "You mean, you think I may have cancer?"

  He nodded and said, "It is unlikely, but I can't explain it any other way.  I have never seen a case of laryngitis ever go this long.  So if it is, the earlier we detect it the better anyhow."

  I don't exactly remember the trip home.  I probably blocked it out of my mind.  I do remember resolving to play it down with my parents so that they wouldn't worry.  I knew the week I had to wait for the test results would be torture.

  I was broken... in every sense of the word.  I didn't want to face it, but I remember thinking that this was my punishment for making a mockery out of God's praise... that the "praise" that was coming out of my mouth was so tainted by my own self-pride and hypocrisy that He just couldn't stand it anymore so He had to shut me up.

  I remember praying... begging for forgiveness and mercy.  I felt utterly helpless.

  Throughout this time, I had continued to play guitar for the praise time - someone else was doing the singing.  People could see it in my body language that I was defeated.  This time I WANTED to sing so badly but couldn't.  Then that Saturday evening as we were going through our set of songs we came upon "Glorify Thy Name" and a little voice in my head said, "sing..."

  I didn't think I could do it... I was afraid to even try for fear of losing all hope in my failure.

  "Sing..."  It came again.

  So slowly... I opened my mouth... and pushed the air out...

  "Jesus we love You, we praise You and adore You...."

  Oh my goodness...

  "Glorify Thy name in all the earth"

  What was this?!?  I was singing!

  "Glorify Thy name, Glorify Thy name, GLORIFY THY NAME IN ALL THE EARTH!"

  The tears were flowing freely at this point.  I couldn't stop.  As the song ended I looked around to see several smiling faces looking at me.  I knew they were praying for me.  And I was changed.

  After that evening, I went somewhere to be by myself and prayed.  I was so grateful to God for sparing me and forgiving me.  I vowed that after that if there was any way that I could praise Him more or help others praise Him, I would do it.

  Within a couple weeks after that, I was fully recovered.  The doctor said he had seen nothing like it.  There wasn't even scarring on my vocal cords.

  After that I had one re-occurance which lasted several weeks.  I think it's just a reminder of the lessons He taught me those 3 months.  And I still have that old classical guitar hanging on my wall.  It's a part of my history.  It's a part of who I am.  If you haven't figured it out, the "You" I was referring to in the title of this entry was God.  And my gift is not even mine to give, but it's in the giving that I am blessed.

  ...and You can tell everybody, that this is Your song...

  What has been the most important lesson God has taught you so far?

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