The Leave-It-Alone Button
As worship leader at our church, I usually arrive early on Sunday mornings to tune my guitar, check the soundboard, and make sure everything is ready before the congregation arrives. On one recent Sunday, I came carrying what I was convinced might be the greatest guitar ever made.
Last Sunday before worship, I leaned over and whispered to Elder Ed, “Ed, this guitar may be the greatest one ever made.”
He didn't even look up.
“Didn't you say that last Sunday?”
“Yes,” I admitted, “but that was before I met this one.”
He finally looked over.
“So, how many 'greatest guitars ever made' do you own now?”
“Ed,” I said, “let's try to stay focused.”
Just then my daughter Hannah walked by.
“Hey, Dad… have you found the 'leave the soundboard settings alone' button yet?”
“I don't think our mixer has one.”
“It does,” she replied. “Mom says every button you reach for… is the 'leave-it-alone' button.”
Elder Ed smiled.
“Sometimes,” I confessed, “your mom simply gives me a look that saves me from making a whole lot of unnecessary adjustments.”
I’ve discovered that every time I stand behind a soundboard, I begin with the same noble ambition—to make everything sound just a little better.
If the guitar seems a touch muddy, move a slider.
If the vocals seem a little thin, turn a knob.
If the bass is overpowering, back it off a little.
“George,” said Elder Ed, “have you ever considered just leaving it alone?”
Thank you, Ed, for another valuable contribution to the discussion.
Now, where was I?
Oh yes… if everything already sounds fine… well… maybe tweak something anyway. After all, you didn't stand behind a soundboard all morning just to leave it alone.
Elder Ed interrupted my thoughts.
“George, have you ever considered that the problem isn't the soundboard?”
“What do you mean?”
“It always sounds fine… until you start improving it.”
I assured him that was merely a coincidence.
He assured me it wasn't.
The truth is, sound systems have taught me a valuable lesson over the years.
Every adjustment affects something else.
Turn one microphone up just a little too much and you invite feedback. Add too much bass and suddenly the vocals become muddy. Fix one thing carelessly and you may create two new problems you didn't have before.
Just then, Hannah wandered back into the sanctuary.
“Dad, are you fixing something again?”
“Yes.”
“Was it broken?”
“Not exactly.”
“It will be.”
Children have a remarkable gift for speaking uncomfortable truths with a smile.
I’ve discovered the Christian life can be much the same. We often feel compelled to improve on what God has already made clear. We try to reshape His commands to fit our own priorities. We explain away the ones that make us uncomfortable. We convince ourselves that just one little tweak won't matter.
But God's Word doesn't need our editing.
Sometimes wisdom isn't knowing what to change.
Sometimes wisdom is knowing what to leave alone.
Of course, there is one adjustment none of us can make ourselves. No amount of tuning can make a sinful heart acceptable to a holy God. Centuries before Christ came, God promised through the prophet Ezekiel something we could never accomplish ourselves:
“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take
the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.”
— Ezekiel 36:26 (NKJV)
That is why Christ came.
The Lord Jesus lived the perfectly righteous life we have failed to live, then willingly bore the penalty our sins deserved when He died on the cross. He rose again in victory over sin and death, and He now freely saves all who repent and trust in Him alone.
Our greatest need isn't a better setting.
It's a new heart.
And thankfully, God doesn't simply improve sinners—He makes them new creations.
And if you're wondering, I still think that guitar may be the greatest one ever made.
Elder Ed says he'll reserve judgment until next Sunday.
Written by George Dunn
Part 1: The Message of the Cross (1 Corinthians 1:18–25)
