Every guitar player has their favorite pick. Not one actual “pick” but the one brand, texture, and thickness you found that fits you. I am no different.
When I first began to play, I sought the advice of professionals at one of our local music stores. He directed me to a blue one (which I love, my favorite color) that was fairly thick. I can’t recall the exact measurement of thickness, but it’s a lot thicker than what I use now. The logo and words on it rubbed off after a few months or so, and once I’d moved past finger-picking to chords (which is completely backwords for worship leading, if you think about. But I never do anything the normal way) I needed something thinner. So I just grabbed different kinds and tested them. I eventually landed on the perfect pick for me. The only problem? It’s pink.
I don’t do pink.
Why am I writing about very uninteresting part of my life? Well, the other day I was searching through my purse and as I was digging at the very bottom I noticed one of my pink picks. And then a few days later I was getting change from my wallet and there was another pick.
So I started to notice my picks everywhere around me. The floor of living room, the bookshelf in my bedroom, on top of the CD player in the spare bedroom, in a drawer of my desk, a couple on my night stand, the back seat of my car, on a music stand at church, on the senior pastor’s desk… they were everywhere. I even found one in my jewelry box.
And I realized after catching sight of that one pick at the bottom of my purse, that pick was a reminder of who I was: a guitar player. Something two years ago I wouldn’t have guessed I would become. Then I thought to myself, “Why can’t I have something like these picks that remind me of who I am in Christ? That reminds me of who I belong to? That reminds me who my Savior is?
The world has tried with tacky gold crosses to hang around our necks and from our ears. WWJD? bracelets, jesusfishes on the backs of cars. You can even buy little mints with bible verses on them, (what’s that about? Testa-mint? Come on.) But none of that stuff really works. Because a symbol – when you think about it – means nothing. It’s just a thing that represents something, but it’s not actually anything at all.
So why do I feel like it would help me? Because when I see a pink guitar pick, I remember this part of my life I’ve been allowed to explore because of God’s provision. Maybe it’s sentimental, maybe it’s because everything else in the world has a symbol or logo and I’m just used to it. But maybe if I had some little thing like a guitar pick I could sprinkle around my life that would remind me of God’s love, it wouldn’t be so hard to remember when I needed it the most.
“Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” Deuteronomy 6:5-9
What I’m listening to: Billy Foote & Cindy Foote’s Not A God