A Miracle in the Shape of a Guitar

This morning, I pulled my head up out of the sand and realized how long it has been since I've spoken to you, dear readers.

I'd love to tell you all about the things that I've been up to.

I'd love to tell you about the events that have caused this Summer to whip by like a turbo-charged carousel.

But I can't right now. I don't quite have the words for it all. Wording is important to me; I often scrap entire paragraphs and even full posts if they don't meet my standards.

I suppose that explains my extended hiatus from blogging...I haven't been able to find the words to say.

Momentary Logic could be categorized as "Humorous, anecdotal". I enjoy getting my readers to grin. So when difficult things come along, I refrain from blogging. I dislike reading posts filled with whining and complaining and pitiful pleas for attention, so why would I want to write one? 

So when faced with the most stretching, difficult few months of my life, I've been rendered speechless.

Yet God.

Yet God has been faithful and kind and loving. He daily reminds me of His presence and His promises, and I cannot let those miracles, those blessings, go unspoken.

A few months ago I posted about the possessions I lost due to theft. One of them was my brand-new Breedlove guitar.

Left: My 7-year-old trusty little Fender.
Right: My one-week old Breedlove, just before it was stolen

"That was YOUR guitar, God. I used it for praise and worship and sometimes impressing ladies. If You want me to have a guitar, You'll have to provide one." I ranted. I went back to using my trusty blue Fender, which had begun to chip and peel and show signs of abuse only years of clumsiness and campfires can incur.



Several months passed, and the guitar theft faded in my mind due to other, worse events. Occasionally my brother Shelby and I would stop in at guitar shops to browse. Shelby had taken the theft personally since he had recommeneded Breedloves to me and was psyched that I bought one. He would recount the "horrible loss of my brand new guitar." The guitar shop proprietors would wring their hands and lament alongside Shelby, while I would shrug and say, "Yeah. Losing the guitar was a bummer." Shocked at my apathy, the guitar proprietors would say "Man, a guitar is like a child." or offer helpful advice like "If you have the serial number, we'll keep our eyes out for it."

For my birthday in August, Shelby announced he would purchase half a guitar for me. I saved up the money for the other half, and we went shopping in late August. We traveled 45 minutes to the Guitar Center in Cedar Rapids, where I had purchased my previous Breedlove. On the way, I prayed that God would give us a nice deal. Within 10 minutes of arrival, we found a nearly-identical Breedlove. Not only was it exactly what I wanted, but it was on sale! We quickly ran it over to the counter to purchase.

"By the way, I got this." Shelby said.
"Wut." I said.
"Perhaps Shelby is saying he'll pay for the guitar and I'll pay him back later, in order to avoid a cumbersome two-card transaction." I thought in my brain.
"A mystery donor paid for your half of the guitar." Shelby replied with a grin.
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!" I replied.

I've been playing my new Breedlove almost constantly since. It has been a tangible reminder that God hasn't forgotten about me.

"BUT YOU WERE JUST HEALED OF AN INCURABLE AUTO-IMMUNE DISEASE, IDIOT."

Yeah, I know. Each time I eat a bite of wheaty goodness, I am reminded of God's healing mercies.

But how quickly I allow my joy to be stolen, as if it were a possession I left unattended in a dark alley.

Jesus has been restoring the joy that I so foolishly lost.

I understand that this new guitar was not free. My brother and a kind benefactor paid dearly for it.

I understand that joy is not free. Jesus paid everything for it. He was betrayed and beaten and broken and butchered so that the darkness of sin could not hold its gangly fingers over me. So that joy unspeakable could be mine.

Though you have not seen him, you love him. 

Though you do not now see him, you believe in him 

and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, 

obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

-I Peter 1:8-9, ESV

The story doesn't end there. God has an intricate plan that He's weaving. He gave me a guitar and now He has use for my old one. A former high-school classmate gave me a call yesterday. He's planning a mission trip to Moldova and wants to take a guitar over. Instead of hauling one there and back, he wondered if he might buy my old Fender and then just leave it there once he's finished.

"Of course!" I replied without hesitation. The guitar proprietors would most likely croak, "But dude, that's like a 7-year old child, man! You can't just sell it. Think of all the memories you've made with it!"

God gave me a guitar, and now He needs the other one. If it survives the flight over, God's people in Moldova will be using it to make a joyful noise for years to come.
That entire story arc just blows me away. I had never mentioned my new guitar purchase to the church.
So God allowed it to get snatched.
So He could bless me with a new one.
So I'd declare it at church in a praise report.
Where my high-school friend's mom would hear it.
And she'd tell her son about my new guitar.
Which would prompt him to call me about my old guitar.


These past three months have been the most difficult I've ever faced, yet God is not worried. In fact, He's chuckling. He is in control, and His divine plan is straight-up unbelievable. There's no way I could have orchestrated any of these events, but He ordained them long, long ago.

Continue to have Your way, Father.