One Pen, One Guitar, & One Voice

A few months ago, I decided to learn how to write songs again. I assumed the first step was learning to play the keyboard—so I bought one. The irony? I had just given away a keyboard and a guitar I’d carried for twenty years. But when the creative spark returned, I did what any artist would do: I gathered tools and prepared to begin.

I’ve always written lyrics. I’ve always sung melodies. But I had never taken the step of having my music formally scored. This time, I was determined to follow through. And just like twenty years ago, I discovered once again that teaching myself an instrument wasn’t where my gift—or my discipline—lived.

What I discovered instead was collaboration.

My songwriting coach encouraged me to focus on my strengths: writing lyrics and shaping melodies. She would score the music. Together, we’ve already created five new lyrical drafts and are nearly finished scoring the first song. And for that song, I found myself drawn not to the keyboard, but to the quiet simplicity of the guitar.

That’s when the true lesson came.

Sometimes less is more.
Sometimes the most meaningful art begins with what’s already in your hands.
I didn’t need another instrument. I needed partnership, clarity, and trust—trust in my own gift and trust in the gifts God has placed in others.

The song we’re writing is about hearing the voice of God. And somewhere along the way, one pen and one guitar became symbols for me—reminders of the One Voice that matters most. The One who speaks through and beyond our artmaking, shaping us as much as the work itself.

As a contemplative, I am always listening for that Voice—the One who keeps me on the ancient path.
As a writer, I am always leaning toward what “thus says the Lord.”

And so I return to the simplest truth:

I am called to write.
To sit with mystery.
To call out to eternity.
To help pen breathe words,
ancient and new.

But this reflection isn’t only about writing. It’s about calling.

Where are you called to hear and echo the voice of God?

Maybe your guitar looks like a paintbrush, a stethoscope, a spreadsheet, or a steering wheel.
Maybe your pen looks like parenting, teaching, caregiving, or leading.
The form doesn’t matter. The attentiveness does.

Here’s the truth:
God speaks through even the most ordinary places.
God is always communicating.
Our work—the holy work—is tuning our guitars and steadying our pens to hear the One Voice: the Voice that has spoken across eternity, the Voice of love that endures through the ages.