I love the trumpet. My dad was a professional trumpet player in a big band when he was a young man. I was his first son. After he showed me his shiny trumpet one day I just had to have one myself. I became pretty proficient with the trumpet and was planning on making a career of it when, just one week prior to my auditions for the music conservatory, I was hit in the mouth with a large piece of wood. That was the end of my trumpet aspirations. Nevertheless, because of my love for the trumpet, God often speaks to me through that image.
In my vision I was standing atop a high mountain. A huge crowd was walking around the base of the mountain. I held in my hand a beautiful gold-plated Roman trumpet that had my name on it. It was impressive.
I held up the trumpet to my mouth and was going to blow my own horn for the people to see me and marvel. Suddenly two great hands stretched down out of heaven. They took the trumpet out of my hands; tied it into a knot and handed it back to me. I tried to blow it still so that the people would marvel at me. But nothing came out.
Then the two hands stretched down out of heaven and put in my hands another trumpet. It was not as shiny as the first, not as big. But the name on it was Christ the Lord. So I held it up to my mouth thinking that when I blew that horn people would still look up and see me on the mountain. So I took a deep breath and blew the horn with all my strength.
To my great astonishment, despite the great breath of air I had blown, only a very small sound came out. I looked down the mountain into the valley to see if anyone had taken notice. And there I saw one or two people looking up towards me inquisitively as though they didn’t understand the sound.
I was distraught. No one was paying attention to me, despite all of my great efforts. So I decided to just play the horn for my own enjoyment. That satisfied me for only a brief moment.
Then a voice spoke to me from above: Play for me.
So I held the horn to my mouth again and began to play a sweet melody which floated up to heaven like the odor of an expensive perfume. I glanced down into the valley to see if the people could hear what a beautiful song I was playing to the Lord; but they didn’t even notice. Though I was bothered and hurt by their indifference, I so enjoyed the music myself that I continued to play.
Over time, I stopped thinking about the people down in the valley. I was so taken up by the sound coming out of the trumpet and I could feel the music literally pulling my heart out of my chest as though the music wanted to take it up to heaven as an offering. I fought this for a moment, but the pull became so intense that I let it go. And I saw my heart carried off into heaven by the sound of the trumpet.
I’ve lost track now of just how long this song has been coming through the horn given to me. And I don’t really know what is happening down in the valley any longer. But the last time I glanced in that direction I could see some people starting to climb up the mountain towards the sound of the trumpet. But they weren’t looking at me. The heavens above me were open and they could see the One to whom the trumpet belongs.