The Retuned Instrument

When a tuning fork is struck against a hard surface, it vibrates at exactly 440 hertz — the note A. Place it near a piano string tuned to the same frequency, and something remarkable happens: the string begins to vibrate on its own through sympathetic resonance. The struck fork awakens something dormant in the string.

Isaiah entered the temple carrying his own frequency — his own plans, his own sense of adequacy. But when the seraphim struck the air with "Holy, holy, holy," the entire temple shook. That triple declaration was the tuning fork of heaven, and it exposed every dissonant note in Isaiah's life. "Woe is me!" he cried. He could hear, perhaps for the first time, how out of tune he really was.

Then came the burning coal — the Almighty's fierce mercy pressed to his lips. Not to destroy the instrument, but to retune it. The impurities burned away, and what remained was a life finally vibrating at heaven's frequency.

So when the voice of the Lord filled that trembling space — "Whom shall I send?" — Isaiah didn't volunteer out of guilt or obligation. He resonated. "Here am I. Send me." A struck and retuned instrument, ready to carry heaven's sound into a world badly in need of the right note.