At this point on the race the only thing I have left that I started the race with is my sleeping bag, chacos, and my bible. My phone fell in a small river in Bolivia. My makeup got thrown out in Peru. I sent my big backpack home with my mom in India. My scandalous shorts were left in Nepal. My shirt that completed my groutfits (all grey outfits) bit the dust here in Armenia. The clothes I started with either didn’t make the “I love it” cut, got ruined, or didn’t fit anymore. I don’t have enough hair for my headbands and bows, so ciao. But I have one comfort, one safety net, one thing I’m willing to stray from super minimalist for.
My ukulele.
Let me just preface everything with the fact that I got this ukulele right before I left for the race and my family made fun of me for it. A lot of Tiny Tim jokes were made. I didn’t know how to play it, but I wanted to learn how to play a stringed instrument and 11 months away from my normal felt like a great time to start.
I fell in love. I’m no musical prodigy, but I loved getting to worship Jesus with just me and my ukulele. At first I was stuck in this tiny box that said I wasn’t good enough with the instrument for others to ever hear me play. My team assured me they wanted to hear me practice and loved it, but my comparison lenses were stuck to my face and I couldn’t get them off. But slowly, excruciatingly slowly, God chipped the comparison lenses off my face and replaced them with I have things to offer lenses. I didn’t suddenly become incredible. My strumming was still a little wonky, my pinky still refused to have anything to do with chords, and my inability to play a convincing bminor chord was pretty glaring. But I was no longer willing to stuff a gift God has given me into a box and ship it to Siberia.
This month I’ve stood in the square, sat on benches, and walked parks imperfectly playing my ukulele and loudly singing praises to my Father and singing blessings over this beautiful country. Zero shame or fear controls my fingers or vocal chords. I’ve had people glare at me, each to his own. But I’ve had people listen for an hour, even though they can’t understand the words. Something about worship draws people in. Nothing to do with how good or bad you sound and everything to do with who you are worshiping.
I’ve learned a lot from a $40 Amazon ukulele that my siblings bought for my birthday. I’ve learned God gives us gifts and asks us to use them imperfectly and promises that He will do the rest. I’ve realized God loves our messy worship. God has shown me that when people love you they will put up with so much (shout out to both my teams for listening to the painful ukulele learning process. Y’all are the real MVPs). I’ve learned Music is a way that people can connect regardless of what language you speak. I’ve learned that hiding abilities actually isn’t humility, it’s wasting gifts God bestowed upon us.
Through a tiny instrument I’ve learned that ministry is simple and often just means living normal life just in a different location.
Read: playing the uke in the park instead of my living room.
