THOUGHTS FROM A MUSICIAN'S HEART

MEDICINE FOR THE HEART AND SOUL by Nathaniel Hill

1 Peter 4:10–11

“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful

stewards of God’s grace in its various forms … so that in all things God may be praised

through Jesus Christ.”

When I began thinking about what to write, I was immediately drawn to what we musicians

are wired to do. No matter our mood, our physical state, or how drained our hearts might

feel, we still walk on stage and perform. We, the performers, live in a strange tension—

expressing ourselves through someone else’s expression, the composer’s.

And for something that needs little explanation among musicians, we beat ourselves up

—far more than we deserve, and we know we do it more than we deserve.

Quite honestly, I was more lost than I thought I would be. But in God’s own divine and

humorous way, He gives us exactly the reminder or experience we need—sometimes

both—at just the right time.

Just a few days ago, I had the privilege of giving a short solo concert for an elderly man

struggling with a terminal illness—one that slowly takes the body away. His wife and

another friend who invited me were also there. It was a simple 25-minute program in his

nursing home room, which looked a bit like a college dorm—warm, lived-in, personal. I was

honored to play, because these are the moments when musicians are most needed.

I began with a piece I often perform: Prelude No. 1 by Heitor Villa-Lobos—one of the most

lyrical works ever written for a solo instrument. I’ve played it more times than I can count,

and by now it often feels second nature. But in that room, facing that man, I was reminded

of a musician’s true calling. In such a small, intimate space, it became clear again: we are

called to be God’s disciples—His miracle workers of the heart and soul.

That performance took me back to my first time playing the Villa-Lobos Prelude, ten years

ago. I was a freshman in high school, warming up for my lesson in a hallway (since there

were no practice rooms). A little girl, no older than five, asked her mother to bring her to

“the song.” When they came over, I realized the little girl was blind. Her mother asked if her

daughter could rest her hand on my guitar to feel the vibrations—her way of seeing. The

mother and I cried in silence during that moment from the joy her daughter had. That was

my first public performance of the piece.

Between that day and this recent one, there have been countless reminders of why we do

what we do and how truly blessed we are to be given such a gift. But those two moments

will stay with me forever. And I hope all musicians remember that we are, in fact, servants

of the soul. Whether we play for ten people or ten thousand, we are there to be God’s

servants—His healers of the brokenhearted, His encouragers of the joyful, His instruments

of peace.

Never forget the time you were the person in the audience moved to tears by what was

happening on stage. That’s the sacred power of this calling. This is the gift He has

entrusted to us—love it, cherish it, and use it well.

Isaiah 61:1

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim

good news to the poor; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom

for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.”