It would probably be generous to call me a pianist. I haven’t taken a formal lesson in fifteen years, and had not played on a regular basis after that until about two years ago. When Mo was brought to pastor his current churches, they both were desiring a pianist to assist the organist. Saying, “I’m not that good,” “I’m out of practice,” or “there’s someone better than me,” were no longer viable excuses. So I became the pianist at both churches for the Sabbaths that I’m there.
It truly has been a blessings. I definitely started out timidly, hoping that certain hymns wouldn’t be chosen. It took a while to get into the groove of things. But then the fears and the concerns slowly started disappeared, pretty much unnoticed.
We have no piano at home for me to practice on, so I’ve had to become much better at sight reading and playing on the fly (things I have always struggled with). I’m really thankful for that experience. I’ve also enjoyed introducing new members to the wealth contained in our hymnal. And as time progressed, my skills were even sought for in a couple of other churches over the holidays.
But I didn’t realize how much joy that playing the piano brings me. Not until yesterday, that is. The sermon was on Heaven. There was a baptism at the conclusion of the service. As the chorister stood up to lead out the last stanzas of the service, I found myself loving every touch of my hand on the keyboard, expressing the lyrics as strongly as if I were singing the words, feeling it my special way of adding to worship, my sacrifice that I prayed was a sweet smelling aroma to God.
As I closed the piano up at the end of the service, I said a short prayer of thanksgiving. Thanking God for giving me the opportunity to learn such a beautiful instrument, even if I never will be a concert pianist. Thankful for parents who encouraged me to play. Thankful for this opportunity so as to not lose the talent that God had given me, and to in turn use it to glorify Him, and for the experience of joy in so doing.