Scripture says that David played the harp to soothe Saul when he was in a difficult state. Some believe that Saul suffered from vascular headaches or back pain; something so bad as to affect his mood and decision making skills. Music has been used to move every major social movement in memory. "Amazing Grace" moved the abolitionists forward. "Look for the Union Label", "We Shall Overcome," The Bonny Blue Flag," and "Over There" have entered history and our culture’s consciousness. Hundreds of others could be named. 

I thought about all of this last night and this morning. David knew the power of music and so did God. God made sure music was a part of our worship, teaching, and fellowship. While there are some churches that don’t baptize and others that don’t take the Lord’s Supper, it is hard to imagine a church that doesn’t sing or have some kind of music. 

After the car accident, I’ve been put on a lot of meds. Many of them are now gone but the pain isn’t. Don’t feel sorry for me — anyone out there with a bad back is suffering more than I am today. Aspirin helps a little. Ibuprofen, not so much. The Vicodin helps but there aren’t many of them so I ration them.

But when I play the guitar, the pain fades. Anyone who hears me playing might actually experience an increase in pain but I don’t (I’m not that good). When I can’t read and I really don’t want to move around much, I reach for one of the guitars that line one wall and fill one rotary stand in my basement or one of the two upstairs in the family room. I’ll work on learning a bluegrass barn burner flatpicking break or I’ll play some Christmas carols (yes, already) fingerstyle on my Taylor or one of my classical guitars. Sometimes I’ll pick my my 12-string Yairi, the guitar I was holding when I first saw the girl who would become my wife a year later.

John Denver wrote a song called "This Old Guitar." It was about the first guitar he’d owned. Like many good things, he ended up selling it one day only to wish, years later, he had it again. Sure enough, passing by a pawn shop he spied his old guitar. He bought it again and wrote an ode to the blessings that that old guitar had brought into his life. I could write a dozen or so such odes. I used to play my 12 string quietly as I sat beside Kami. She would be doing her homework for high school or college and I would be hanging around, staying close. The guitar allowed me to do that.

The guitar gave me a chance to travel some of the American south with a bluegrass band — just for a year or so but, wow, what an experience that was. It was all part time (VERY part time) but the experiences and the songs are forever. I played a couple of them again last Tuesday night when some guys from church came over to jam and trade songs in my basement.

I recently held a gospel meeting at a traditional church in East Tennessee. They still sang the old songs out of the books, songs that I haven’t sung since I was ten or twelve years old. I was surprised to find out I still knew the words and "my part" (you church of Christ people know what I mean). Those old songs had burrowed down deep into me. They were still a part of me. I didn’t need the book because the words came, unbidden, from some hidden part of my brain.

Some songs take me back to the Isle of Skye (songs by bands and artists such as Ossian, Silly Wizard, Andy Stewart, The Battlefield Band). Other songs take me back to windy two lane roads in Alabama and Tennesee. Some songs take me back to white clapboard church buildings in Appalachia or the Midwest. Some songs take me back to my wife’s old kitchen table.

I am Saul. Music still comforts me when nothing else will. My advice? Take one guitar and… don’t call me in the morning.