Trumpeter
I recently heard an interview with Phil Driscoll, an artist I’ve admired for years.
His raspy, soulful voice is unmistakable, and what he can do with a trumpet has mesmerized me for decades. I’ve also had dealings with him, and he left me with the impression that he’s one of the finest men you’ll ever meet.
During the interview he made a statement that stopped me.
“I’m not a trumpet player. I’m a trumpeter.”
Then he explained why.
A trumpet is simply an instrument. It can sit on a shelf or hang in a museum for a hundred years without producing a single note. The music isn’t in the trumpet.
It’s in the trumpeter.
The longer I sat with that thought, the deeper it became.
A trumpeter is still a trumpeter when the concert ends. He’s still a trumpeter when the case is closed. If his instrument is lost, stolen, or broken, he hasn’t lost who he is. He’s simply a trumpeter without a trumpet.
Somewhere along the way, we’ve become tempted to confuse the instrument with the person.
Our work becomes our identity.
Our title becomes our identity.
Our success becomes our identity.
Until one day life reminds us that every instrument is temporary.
Careers end.
Businesses change hands.
Platforms disappear.
Strength fades.
The things we hold eventually slip through our fingers.
What remains is the person holding them.
I can’t help but think that’s why Scripture begins with identity before responsibility. Before we’re ever called servants, leaders, witnesses, or ambassadors, we’re called sons and daughters. Everything else flows from there.
Phil probably wasn’t preaching a sermon that day.
He was simply talking about a trumpet.
But I walked away thinking about my own life.
One day, every trumpet will be laid down.
The question is whether the person holding it has become someone worth listening to.