My Martin guitar

Chapter 1

Sometime after my divorce my eldest daughter Kirsti came to stay with me for a few days, she was still very young then. On arriving at my home she asked me to sing and play for her and she joined in on one or two of the songs too. At that time I was playing a guitar I had bought i n London many years ago, it was not a very good one, but it had been the best I could afford at the time. We had been doing this for half an hour or so, when the phone rang. Handing her the guitar to hold, as we had been sitting together on the sofa, I went to answer the phone.

Suddenly from the living room I heard a twanging and cracking noise. Thinking that Kirsti might be hurt I finished the phone call and went back into the living room. Only to see my guitar on the floor in front of the coffee table and my daughter standing on the guitar so she could reach something on the other side of the table. Although she was only small and light I feared the worst for my guitar.

On inspection I discovered a long crack on the top of the guitar.

Naturally I called the insurance company explaining the circumstances. They did not want to help and suggested I contact my ex-wife and claim on her home insurance. Well she was not interested in a claim being made on her insurance either. So I packed the guitar in its case and put it away.

Not wishing to give up playing I decided I would buy another guitar if I could find a really good one. A teacher colleague in London had a very good guitar which I had heard him play and had also played myself. It had a beautiful sound and I remembered the maker and the model. So I set out to find one in Finland. For several months I visited every music shop in nearby towns. No one had even heard of the maker. Strange, because they were world famous as makers of steel string guitars.

I began to explore towns further away, still with no luck.

Then one day I had to go to a meeting in Helsinki in the late afternoon. Surely I would be able to find one in the capital! I searched the telephone directory for all the music shops and plotted a route across the city to visit them all before the meeting. With an hour to go before the meeting I had visited all but one with no sign of my dream guitar anywhere. The one shop unvisited was across the other side of town. As I did not know the bus or tram routes around the town, I decided to run to this last shop. (I was fit in those days.)

The shop was in an old part of the town, it had small front windows and an old heavy wooden door. Climbing the steps and opening the door without much hope I entered the small room of the shop. I looked round in the rather poor light inside the shop. My heart was pretty low at that point because the shop looked more like a pawn shop than a high class musical instruments shop. Electric guitars stood on the floor leaning against the walls. A small section at the back was reserved for a small number of acoustic guitars.

Nothing. I turned to go and the shop assistant or manager came forward looked at me and said in English what are you looking for. I told him I was looking for a Martin HD 28 but hadnʼt found one anywhere in Finland. He smiled and said, “Iʼm not surprised. We are the only shop that sells them in the whole of Finland!” He then opened a door to another room further back. There on the wall was my guitar!

In fact there were two guitars one new and one second hand. I played the new one first and it was lovely. He watched me playing and then said try the other one. He handed it to me and from the first chord it sounded different even better than the new one. Now, I was short of time. I asked if I could come back later that day as I had a meeting in Pasila, another part of the town. I told him the meeting would last until five or six and I would not be coming back to Helsinki for some time and I would like to play the guitar some more before deciding whether or not to buy. he promised to stay open longer for me.

After the meeting I went back to the shop now empty of customers and played for a long time. I knew which guitar I wanted. Actually I had known from the moment I set eyes on it. I asked him the price and my heart dropped. It was way beyond my means at that time, but I did not want to settle for anything less than the best. So what was I to do.

In those days Helsinki was quite a long journey from where I was living and working, so I would not be able to come to Helsinki for a month or until I had to come for another meeting. Saddened I left the guitar at the shop and went home.

A week or so later my work took me to Helsinki again. Naturally I paid another visit to the shop. Going into the back room again I was disappointed not to see “my“ guitar there. The owner, I supposed that he was the owner, came to me and said that he had been keeping the guitar for me to try again. I sat down and played it and he stood a few feet away smiling. Shaking my head I gave him the guitar saying that Iʼd love to buy it but it was just too expensive at that time.

But he would not let me leave the shop. “Letʼs see if we can work something out.” He said. “Do you have a fifty penni coin on you.” (A very low value coin) he asked. I fished one out of my pocket and handed it to him, thinking he needed it to use as a screwdriver to open something. Putting the guitar in itʼs case he handed it to me and said. “Thatʼs all the deposit I need, pay me the rest as and when you can.” No papers were drawn up, no written agreement and he did not know me at all.

My jaw dropped so far it was touching the floor. “Are you serious?” I asked and he replied, “Yes I am serious, weʼve had that guitar for some time and many people have played it. But it responds differently when you play it. I know it is your guitar!”

Completely dazed and elated I walked out of the shop with MY guitar. The Martin HD 28.

By the calculations I had made earlier I knew that I would not be able to pay the shop for the guitar very quickly. Somehow, I managed to pay the whole amount in 12 months. The price of the guitar? Oh, yes. It was 8,000 old Finnish markkaa. An awful lot of money in those days.

I loved that guitar and looked after it well. When people hear me playing it, even in a room with others playing their guitars peopleʼs heads turn to hear it better.

Chapter 2

Shortly after finding this guitar I made the decision to follow Christ Jesus. The songs I sang and played were now Christian in subject and style. I began to play and sing in different churches and meetings.

One day on my way to play somewhere, I dropped in to see a friend I had made a few weeks before. There was an old Messianic Jewish man from India visiting and I was asked to play and sing. Which I did. The old Indian man asked me if I had dedicated my guitar to the service of the Lord. Which I had. He could see that I really loved the guitar.
Suddenly he stood up, reached out his hand took the guitar and slowly walked out of the room on his weak and spindly legs. The presence of the Holy Spirit was so strong that I made no objections nor resisted him taking the guitar. My friend and I continued to pray. I had no idea what was happening to my guitar. I had never before let anyone touch my guitar let alone take it out of my sight!

Had the old man fallen over and landed on it and totally crushed it? But my spirit was still and my heart untroubled.

After a long time the old man came in carrying my guitar.

He handed me the guitar and said, “The Lord told me to take this guitar and bless it for His use. Now play for me again and play for the glory of the Lord”.

It sounded even better than it had done before! Praise the Lord.

It is no longer my guitar, but His. As such I am not so concerned about itʼs safety as I used to be. This is not to say that I am cavalier in the way I treat it. But it is no longer the most important thing in my life. That place belongs to God and His Son!

Some years ago I was asked to lead worship at an English Language course that I was teaching. After tuning up, I placed the guitar in its stand as I had to leave the hall to fetch something. I was only away for a few minutes. I came back to find my guitar flat on the floor on its front just in front of the stand which was still upright. The neck and the front were cracked and it was unplayable. Evidently someone had picked it up to look at it, and put it back in its stand but not properly and it had fallen over.

It took me some years to find a good luthier who I could trust to repair it. It is now repaired and it sounds as good as ever. PTL Because it is no longer pristine having needed repairs I decided in consultation with my friend Hannu to have a B Band pick up and pre amp installed as it has always been a problem to find someone who knows how to use a microphone with the guitar. All mixers seem to know these days is how to plug in a guitar.

So that is the story of my Martin guitar. Both it and I will continue to serve the Lord as long as I have breath to sing and strength to play. After I am gone it will be given to someone who will carry on that tradition.

Amen