In the last few months, I have been challenged to actively be a part of things, be a visible presence (which is the opposite of hiding who I am) and to be a person who shows courage.
That’s quite the challenge, isn’t it?
Although I could look back through the years and make mental check marks beside the events I participated in, the times I was “visible” and the courage I was displaying, I would have to be honest about the rest—
Those times that I didn’t participate, the times I was truly hiding, even if I was the only one who knew it,
and, of course, the times that I was anything but courageous.
About three weeks ago, I got through this challenge in a small, almost insignificant way.
Later, I became aware of just how significant it had been.
One of our sons was having surgery at a local hospital.
While waiting to hear that he was out of recovery, news came that there was a complication.
Nothing huge, but he was going to have to stay there for an extended time.
I had been praying for him.
Not far from where I was sitting stood a grand piano.
Silently, it only gave the memory of music to those that passed by.
A thought came to my mind.
I argued with the thought for a second or two, struggling with just a twinge of non-participation and the need to hide.
Walking over to the desk where my son had been admitted, I calmly asked if I could play the piano.
Given permission, I sat down and played one song after another for perhaps a half hour.
Hospital employees, along with people visiting for one reason or another, came walking by during the impromptu concert.
When I was finished, I stood up, noticing a brass plaque adorning the piano.
I believe it read, “To the Glory of God.”
A doctor’s name, along with that of his wife, was engraved there, identifying them as the ones who had given the piano to the hospital.
As I began to walk away from it, a man rushed up to me.
He had been friends with the doctor who had given the piano.
The doctor was no longer living, but his wife was.
While I had been playing, this man called the doctor’s wife and told her that someone was playing the piano they had given!
Others came up to speak with me, happy to have heard the music.
I may never know of the comfort God may have given to someone who heard the sounds of the hammers striking the strings, creating the familiar hymns for those that passed.
I can imagine that the doctor’s wife would have been happy that the instrument she had given was in use.
I can also imagine the musically silent atmosphere on the first floor of the hospital that day if I had not taken that first step toward the desk, refusing to hide in my waiting room chair.
Since the ability I have to play the piano was given to me by God, I truly do want to honor Him with my playing.
To do so, I must actually step up to the piano and begin—
to the glory of God.
As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace:whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.
—1 Peter 4: 10-11