God’s Love and Blessings


I was blessed from birth to be born into a family of musicians. My Mother played piano and my Father played guitar. Moreover, my Mother was a devout Christian who played piano in church as long as I can remember. She raised us children in church and taught us the love of God by example. My father played guitar with friends and pick up bands. Many nights I fell asleep in the living room floor with my ear pressed against the front of and old Fender amplifier. How could I not have turned out to be a guitar player? Little did I know God was going to deposit a gift in me that would be a constant blessing to me for my whole life.


At the age of six years I asked my Father for a guitar. I had secretly been getting his out when he would go to work and was able to “one string” Secret Agent Man. When Dad told me I was too little to play the guitar I told him I could play. He got his guitar and sat me down. I proceeded to plunk out my rendition of the song. His eyes got big and Mom grinned. The next afternoon when Dad came home from work he had a brand new Kay guitar for me. Thus began my musical apprenticeship. Dad taught me the foundation of guitar and the importance of using your ear, listening to all the other musicians and playing “with” them. By the age of ten, I could play everything my Father could play.  I began listening to the radio and playing with it as much as I could.  


I continued honing the gift by playing at church and at home. Around the age of sixteen I was playing in a local band. I soon found myself playing in bars and clubs, far from the church where I had spent countless hours playing bass beside my Mother. Slowly I saw myself drift away from God and fall into the clutches of alcohol and drugs. This went on for about four years until my life became such a mess I turned back to Him. I came to the conclusion that my guitar playing had led me down this hopeless path. I purposed in my heart not to let that happen again and put the guitar down. I sold all my equipment except for my acoustic and old Stratocaster. I put them in a closet for years. God used this time to help me understand it was not the guitar that had taken me away from Him, rather it was my bad choices. I got my guitars out and began playing again. It was amazing, I had not touched them for so long but I could play better than I ever had.


All through these years I had been in out out of church. I had given my heart to God as a child but I felt free to come and go with God as I pleased. I did not yet understand that my walk with Christ was a daily walk that required submission and repentance continually. So I got into a “harmless” little blues band and began playing restaurants and small bars. I felt convicted at first but since I was not drinking and drugging I was able to justify it in my mind. This went on until the day God used a terrible accident to get my attention and show me his healing power, mercy & grace. I was in my wood shop working on an order of cabinets when the thing I feared most happened. I was ripping some material on the table saw. I lost my focus for a moment and before I knew it I had my index and middle finger on my left hand in the table saw blade. Initially I thought it had cut them off but when I looked I saw that the tips were mangled and destroyed. Bone was exposed and nerve endings dangled. I immediately thought of the guitar and the fact that I would probably never be able to play again.


This is where the miracle begins. They took me into the ER and began prepping me. This older gentleman came in and introduced himself. He looked at the damage and calmly said “ No Problem”. I was shocked to say the least. I proceeded to explain to him that I was a guitar player and these two fingers were very important to me. Further asking him to do his best to put them back together for me. He again said “No Problem”. He sent the nurse out and she came back with the smallest needles and sutures I have ever seen. The thread look as fine as hair. He proceeded to go to work. I watched every clip and every stitch. It took him two hours to complete the repairs. He carefully re positioned each piece of damaged flesh rather than just clipping it off. Securing each with tiny stitches. When he was done he had put fourteen stitches in these two fingers. Other than the fingernails being gone, they looked good. I thanked him as he quickly cleaned up and headed to the next patient. I had no idea of the miracle that had just taken place.

After one week and unbelievable pain I was sent to my first meeting with the rehab group. When the bandages were removed, soaked and cleaned the specialist looked at the fingers and said "I know who did this for you". He proceeded to reveal the first part of this miracle. He explained to me the doctor was a retired neurosurgeon who practiced for forty years in New York and was one of the pioneers of re attachment of limbs. He shared that the doctor was retired and would come by the ER from time to time to help out. He added “It must have been your lucky day”. I said "no it was my miracle day". What no one knew was that day while riding to the ER I asked God to please not take this gift from me. He heard my prayer. After four months of therapy and hard work I was able to pick up the guitar and attempt to play. It was very painful, taking over a year of hard work but God was right beside me. I am a better guitar player and person today because of God's faithfulness through this situation. If you look at my fingers now you can hardly tell anything happened to them. I have all feeling and dexterity just as before. God took something bad and turned it into something good just as His word says.


My wife Tamara has come along side me and helps solder circuit boards. She is my best friend a real helpmate. I love her dearly.


I thank God daily for His grace and mercy.I owe all I am to Him. 

I share this with no amount of pride or self serving intended, only with a spirit of gratitude and testimony for what God has done for me. He stands ready to do this and more for you.

God Bless You,

Bob Burt