Tune my heart.
Rev. Sarah A. Speed
Like an old violin,
like a worn down piano,
I have been left out in all manners of weather;
I have been left alone for far too long.
So like a concertmaster
with a steady hand,
tune me up.
Listen and learn
the cracked keys,
the broken strings.
Memorize the forgotten intervals
that even I did not know.
And then, when we’re ready,
When this creaky heart is tuned,
teach me a new son.
In school, I played the trumpet in the concert band. Before every rehearsal, before every concert, and even between songs, we had to tune our instruments. The first chair clarinet would stand on the director’s podium, play a B-flat, and the entire band would have to listen to adjust their instrument to match. Slides were moved, reeds were adjusted, and then we could finally play together.
In the poem, Rev. Speed suggests that we need our hearts tuned and re-tuned. Our faith journey requires us to come back to the right note when our trust goes flat, or our compassion goes sharp. Our hearts do wander and they will wander. If we plan to play music with others or God, if we plan on being the hands and feet of Christ, we must grow in our ability to tune and re-retune.
This Lenten season in worship, we will be following the wandering heart of Peter, not to idolize or vilify him; instead, to wander alongside him, open to what we might learn about Jesus (and ourselves) by stepping in his shoes. Faith is a constant journey of steadfast pursuit that ebbs and flows. Peter keeps searching and yearning and loving, even after missteps or mistakes. Ultimately, in Peter’s story, we are reminded that God loves imperfect people—in fact, time and again, that’s precisely who God claims and calls.
Even if you have been left out in all manners of weather, the concertmaster’s steady hand can tune you. God is with you on your faith journey. Even though we wander, we are not distant from God.
Blessings for your journey,
Rev. Keith McDevitt