In the absence of our regular organist, she came to play the piano for us at morning worship. She has come before and when she does she never gets away without offering a solo as well. This past Sunday was no exception. Unable to find a second microphone, I have learned to take the pulpit mic and walk to the piano with the long chord trailing behind me. There is more than enough to reach. She plays the piano and sings. I stand beside her holding the microphone in front of her to sing. I am grateful my hand is still steady.
This past Sunday as I stood there trying not to call attention to myself, I was captivated by watching her hands move across the keyboard. Effortlessly they seem to move. Confidently they moved from one key to another. Guided not by eyes, but by years of training, they provided the music of ministry. As I watched these fingers moving, I thought of them belonging not to the musician, but to the student. Long years ago those hands moved tentatively and fearfully learning scales, chords, and the location of sounds. Then they were likely the hands of a child trying to please a music teacher or a parent.
Surely, she never thought back then that they would one day be used to please God. What a journey! Such is the place where I heard God speaking this past Sunday in worship. She provided the music and, I, the music stand. It is always good to have a part when God is at work.
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