I want to throw my metronome against the wall. I want to see it shattered in a thousand pieces, laying on the floor defeated. I’m getting so cheesed off at it. But alas alack alay, I can’t. It’s an app on my phone. That would be hard to explain to my wife.
Not since I started weight training back in PE in high school have I committed to something that causes me so much pain and frustration. I never was good at weight lifting. And I put it to the way side when I went into college. I started it back up in seminary and then let it go again for a bit and then slowly picked it back up again after seminary. And I’ve struggled with keeping up with it since August but I’m slowly getting back into the habit.
And now I’m learning the guitar. And it frustrates me to no end. My fingertips hurt and pain from the strings. My fingers on my left hand hurt and cramp with how much I’ve been practicing. And then the metronome. Oh, that blasted frakin metronome. It is the bane of my existence. I thought the F chord was my enemy. No. It is the henchman of the metronome. The metronome is the enemy. Oh with it’s clicking and tapping telling me I’m messing up all the time.
Now, I’ve always said that I ain’t got rhythm. I really don’t feel like I do. I feel like “Swampy” Marsh of the band Love Handel from Phineas and Ferb.
And so, I asked my wife how she teaches kids rhythm (she’s trained as a music teacher, a history teacher and I think she’s totally smokin’ hot). She says that she uses rhythm sticks. And so I’m walking around banging two wooden spoons together going “1-and-2-and-3-and-4-and-1…” I’m trying to come at this like a child.
And that’s exactly how I’m supposed to do it. It’s something new. Something I’m not used to. It’s hard. It’s painful at times. It pushes me and stretches me. And I don’t know how to do it. And so I come to it like a child first learning. And that’s not just humbling but it places me where I’m at–a beginner.
At the same time, each time I come to a new milestone, a new victory, a new experience with the blasted thing, I rejoice. It’s new to me. It’s exciting to me. And I love it.
This makes me think of my own faithwalk.
Jesus says that we are to come to him with the faith of a child. To come to him in the eyes of a child, seeing him in ways that as an adult we can’t. Just like I’m excited that I’m starting to keep the beat by tapping two wooden spoons together, we’re to get excited about keeping in step with Jesus. Keeping in step with him as we learn to be like him in every way.
There’s a joy when we first come to Christ. There’s a joy when we know we have him in our hearts. But when, when we got older, did we forget that Jesus lives in our hearts? Or have you ever got to a point where you realized that he doesn’t live in your heart?
When I lift weights, I don’t rejoice when I can lift more than I did the day before. Instead, I tick it off the list. I take it as a notch not a milestone. To lift something in greater weight than I did previously is something great. Especially if I’m working back up to where I used to be. I should be excited but I’m not.
With Christ we are to come to him new, fresh. To come to him in ways that we are humbled before him. Each time we take a step with him, it is an adventure, it is amazing. It is exciting. It truly is an exciting adventure when following Christ. Yet if you don’t come to him with the eyes of child, seeing this excitement, celebrating the milestones and achievements made in Christ, it become rote, it becomes same-old-same-old.
So I’m getting cheesed at my metronome. Yet I’m also celebrating the fact that I’m getting better at keeping the beat. I’ll be honest with you, following Christ is hard but it is also an adventure. It is amazingly dangerous…and exciting. And if we take it as same-old-same-old, we won’t see the adventure and experience the to awesomeness of it all. Instead, take it with the eyes of being fresh and humble, see Christ for the adventure that he is. It’ll hurt, it’ll stretch you, but boy howdy will it be exciting if you let it be.