February 18, 2018
Like so many things in my life, she just keeps getting better all the time. I write to the accompaniment of a minuet, a lullaby, and a Broadway tune, courtesy of Linda’s practicing. It was right after Christmas a few years ago that she thought she might like to take piano lessons again, having taken them as a girl, and playing occasionally for her own pleasure. Not having a piano nor room to put one, we talked with my good friend Rick Napoli, an amazing musician in his own right. He owns a small music store in Fredonia, and is THE man in Chautauqua County you want to see if you want a keyboard.
Linda practices diligently, and I can hear her improvement. Radio or cd is nice, but live music is always best, and now at the close of what has been a wonderful day, hearing her melodies from the other room is a delight to my ears.
It all started this morning. Sunday mornings are not usually my best times. The prospect of preaching always fills me with apprehension; my stomach is usually in knots, and I repeatedly review what I’ve written, asking myself, “Is this what I should be saying this morning? Is it what the people need right now? Is it engaging? Is it Good News, or merely good advice? Does it point to Jesus as Savior of the world?” I am fortunate in that before I lead worship in Dunkirk, I have the opportunity to participate in the congregational worship in Sinclairville. As we sing, I join in, intermittently stopping to pray for the congregations and the Word of God. This morning’s worship began with a joyful rendering of “You’re the Lion of Judah” by Robin Mark, followed by Phil Wickham’s “At Your Name,” which recounts the splendor and power of the Name of Jesus Christ. Who wouldn’t be ready to worship after that?
I was amazed how the paltry words I had prepared came forth with ease and (I hope) power as I did my best to point the congregation to Jesus Christ who alone can transform us in the image of God. The afternoon was spent with our son Matt, his wife Jeanine, and grandson Nathan, having a wonderful dinner, followed by visiting dear friends as they grieved the loss of their father and grandfather. Time for Linda and me to talk added to the wonder of the day.
Sometimes God’s blessings are what Ann Voskamp calls “hard eucharistos,” blessings that are difficult even as they shape us in the image of Christ. Over the years, we’ve had a few of them, but today, they were anything but hard, and I am grateful for each one, especially as the piano fades with the evening light.
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