Ben was a music student in the high school worship band I led. When I met him, he was already an excellent electric guitar player, and he loved every minute he had a guitar in his hands. 

I believe he was 15 years old when I met him and had played guitar in the church’s middle school band before moving on to one of the two high school bands. 

Ben’s nickname was “Thrasher,” based on how he played the guitar. He played with high energy and full throttle all the time. He gave 100%. However, I struggled with him for a while. He had two volumes, loud and louder. I wanted to teach him how to balance his sound with the rest of the band. He also needed to learn that the lyrics of the song being played actually needed to be heard over the volume of his guitar. We struggled with this for quite a while.

We were asked to do an acoustic worship set one week, meaning Ben couldn’t plug in his electric guitar. He would have to play his acoustic guitar, and he was not a happy camper. When I got to the church, he and another student were running around trying to find cords and amps to somehow plug into the system. When I told them they could not, their disappointment in me was loud and clear. But we moved on. Once the vocal mics were set up, we were ready for a soundcheck. You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife.

I felt sorry for the sound technician sitting at the soundboard that evening. Ben kept saying, “You can’t hear me.” And I kept saying, “Finish the rehearsal.” When we finished, I asked Ben if I could speak to him. I pulled him aside and made him a promise. I promised him if I couldn’t hear him at any time, now or in the future, I would let him know and we would balance the sound. He heard me, but he still wasn’t thrilled with me.

The band’s music set that night was amazing. It was also a perfect way to teach these musicians they didn’t have to be loud to be effective.   

I remember the first time I told Ben I couldn’t hear him and asked if he would please give me a little more volume. I will never forget the look on his face. The entire band broke into laughter. They realized I meant what I said, and it was so heartwarming to see they were learning to be humble.

As time moved on, my relationship with Ben developed into something very special. When Ben was a senior, a couple of years later, he was diagnosed with some weird nerve thing in his left hand. His hand was going numb when he played. He didn’t tell us right away, but he was terrified by the time he had made an appointment to see the doctor. He had done his online research, and he determined the prognosis was dim at best. 

He was incredibly depressed, convinced that something he dearly loved would be taken from him. We ached for him. We prayed with him, and we tried to encourage him.  

He was indeed told he needed to stop playing. He was told to rest his hand for six weeks. They would reevaluate the situation after that. 

As we waited to see what would happen, it was interesting to watch Ben as he worked through his disappointment. The first time the band played after he was told he had to sit out, Ben didn’t show up to our Wednesday night rehearsal. He didn’t show up to our Sunday night performance either. But the next week, he was there. He showed up to mentor our other guitar player and help him fill in some of the holes that only he, Ben, knew how to do. Ben knew he was loved, missed, and valued. He sat right next to me for the next few weeks listening, mentoring, and learning what it sounded like from my seat vs. his spot in front of a loud amp.  

As Ben’s next appointment approached, he was nervous about the outcome; we all were. We again prayed for positive news from his doctor in the coming week. The following Wednesday evening, we were setting up to lead worship when Ben walked into the room. We weren’t expecting to see him so early. He had the most fantastic smile on his face. He had come directly to us from his appointment. His doctor had given him the go-ahead to play the following week with a few restrictions. He was told to ease into it gently and limit his playtime. Although Ben was told he could play the following week, we kind of cheated a little.  

We also had a very strict rule regarding rehearsal and performance. If a student misses practice on Sunday, they must sit out for the performance on Wednesday. However, it just so happened that our bass player was sick that night. When another student suggested they get the extra bass guitar from the Middle School Building and have Ben fill in, every single student in the room got excited. The rule simply was not important that night. 

Being a bit of a perfectionist, Ben considered the invitation but wasn’t sure it was a good idea. He knew he hadn’t picked up a guitar in six weeks. But before Ben had made his decision, that student had already gone across the parking lot to fetch the bass guitar for Ben to play. He stood in front of Ben like an excited puppy, guitar in hand and goofy grin on his face. No way could Ben say no to that.  

There was a love in that room that cannot be described. As the bass guitar didn’t have a strap, Ben grabbed a chair and humbly placed it off to the side, out of the limelight where our bass player usually stood. Not a typical move from the one called Thrasher. 

Although all the electric guitar solos were played beautifully by the younger musician that night, I’m sure he could not have done it without Ben’s help. Ben had no idea when or if he would get to play again, yet he was willing to set aside his huge disappointment and train someone to take his place. What a great example he was. As I quietly watched these musicians from my seat in the back row, the joy I saw on Ben’s face brought me to tears.

When I signed up for the gig of leading a bunch of high school musicians, I had no idea how blessed I would be as I watched them grow in spirit, character, and talent. It became one of the biggest joys of my life. 

Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

Those who plant with tears will gather fruit with songs of joy. He who goes out crying as he carries his bag of seed will return with songs of joy as he brings much grain to him. Psalm 126:5-6