Part 18 in a continuing series.  See the right sidebar and click on "Music" for others in this study.

Tuesday, afternoon,
I'm just beginning to see,
Now I'm on my way,
It doesn't matter to me,
Chasing the clouds away.

Something, calls to me,
The trees are drawing me near,
I've got to find out why
Those gentle voices I hear
Explain it all with a sigh.

I'm looking at myself, reflections of my mind,
It's just the kind of day to leave myself behind,
So gently swaying thru the fairy-land of love,
If you'll just come with me and see the beauty of

Tuesday afternoon.
Tuesday afternoon.

Tuesday, afternoon,
I'm just beginning to see,
Now I'm on my way,
It doesn't matter to me,
Chasing the clouds away.

Something, calls to me,
The trees are drawing me near,
I've got to find out why
Those gentle voices I hear
Explain it all with a sigh.

"The Afternoon:  Forever Afternoon" (also known as "Tuesday Afternoon")
 
              Many years ago, the Moody Blues was one of our favorite bands.  When the televised version of the Red Rock concert came on, we watched every minute of it and then bought the cassette.  (That's how we listened to recordings in those "olden" days.)  Keith had begun losing his hearing when he was in the service and was already in hearing aids at 27, so "listening" to music was difficult.  He asked me to please get him the lyrics and I did—every lyric for every song on the recording.

              As pleased as punch, he sat down and read through them.  He grew quieter and quieter as he read.  Finally he said, "I wish I did not have these lyrics.  They mean absolutely nothing, and now I don't like the music nearly as much."

              One set of those lyrics, and one of the best as I recall, opens this post.  If you haven't yet, scroll up and read them.  If you can tell me what it means, you are better than I.  Basically it's a bunch of pretentious nonsense, cotton candy fluff masquerading as "deep" thought. 

              That made me think and I began to experiment with our hymns.  Read them—don't sing them—as poetry and see what they actually say.  If necessary to keep the tune from cropping up in your mind, read them aloud.  Suddenly the hymn will become either one of your favorites or one you can easily do without.  The tune and the rhythm won't matter.

              New or old really has nothing to do with it.  Granted, the older hymns have already had a couple hundred years of culling out and as a result they may have the advantage here.  But you will still find one or two that make you feel like all you have been singing all these years is "Doo-wah-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-doo" as far as their spiritual value goes. 

            Another caveat:  save the chorus for last, don't read it over and over.  That waters down the punch of the verses.  That does not mean you should never sing the refrain more than once.  Several of the Psalms have refrains in them, Psalm 80 for instance, which repeats its refrain three times.  Obviously the Holy Spirit meant them to be read more than once—they repeat the theme.  But for this test, you need to avoid the repetition and see what's left.  Sometimes you discover that you are doing a whole lot of singing for practically nothing of worth. 

              So why do this test?  Because suddenly you will understand that it isn't the spirituality of the hymn you like, it's the rhythm or the melody or the harmony, something that did not come along until a couple of millennia after the Psalms, by the way, and early on in only rudimentary form.  And then, I hope, you will remember what our singing is supposed to be about.  "Teaching and admonishing," (Col 3:16); edifying (1 Cor 14:15-26); "a sacrifice of praise" (Heb 13:15).  If the song does not do one or more of those things, does it really need to be sung?
 
Psalm 34  A Psalm of David:  Come O children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the Lord, Psa 34:11.
 
Dene Ward

When I was teaching piano and voice, besides my own annual Spring Program and Awards Ceremony, my students sometimes participated in as many as seven joint recitals a year, programs featuring the students of several teachers at once. 

              Sometimes the students were chosen according to their age—the Young Performer’s Recital was strictly for talented beginners.  It was their chance to shine rather than being lost among a studio’s advanced students.  Sometimes it was all about their music—the Parade of American Music featured students playing or singing the music of American composers.  If his best piece that year was Mozart’s Rondo in D, that particular student was ineligible.

              Sometimes a panel of judges chose the students based on their performances in a recent competition.  The year we had five chosen for the Student Day Honors Recital was a banner year for us.  To have one or two chosen from a group of over two hundred students from a dozen studios was a good showing.  Five was almost unheard of.

              At the receptions after these events, we teachers always enjoyed basking in our students’ successes.  We mined each other for teaching strategies and resources.  The experience exposed us to more crowd-pleasing music we could use with our own students, and our students to teachable moments we could discuss at the next lesson.  They could see for themselves why I insisted on such picky things as not taking your fanny off the seat until your hands left the keys when a student from another studio stood up without doing so, looking as if someone had glued her fingers to the ivory.  They could hear why long fingernails were verboten when it sounded like someone was trying to tap dance to Debussy and Haydn.  It also worked wonders for parental attitudes—suddenly they appreciated things they had before viewed as silly.

              My favorite moments after these recitals came when people approached me with these words:  “I can always tell which ones are yours.”  It wasn’t because they played or sang particularly well—every student at these recitals did that—but not every student performed well.  We spent hours on things like how to approach or leave the piano, how to hold a pose over a final note, what to do in a memory lapse, how a singer should hold the mood until the accompaniment stops, and especially how to bow.  It’s one thing to know your piece; it’s another to be able to present a polished performance of it to an audience.

              Sometimes I imagine God as the teacher watching our performances.  He knows we can do it.  He gave His Son to show us how.  …because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example that you might follow in his steps, 1 Pet 2:21.  I don’t think it is out of line to think of the angels saying to Him, “I can always tell which ones are yours.”  Isn’t that the picture we get in Job 1?  Perhaps not literally, but in essence if nothing else. 

              If life is one big recital, we should learn from the performances of others—what to do, what not to do, why some of the picky things we have always heard are important after all.  We should learn from our own mistakes as well—why do I always miss the same note?!  Your daily practice should take of that.

              God is in the audience, along with all those celestial beings we read about.  As a proprietary teacher myself, I can easily imagine that He wants to hear from them, “I can always tell which ones are yours.”
 
By this it is evident who are the children of God, and who are the children of the devil: whoever does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor is the one who does not love his brother. 1 John 3:10
 
Dene Ward
 

I was humming that old tune a few weeks ago when I suddenly thought of that phrase in a slightly different light.  “Tell me about it!” we sometimes say to people who are complaining about something, not realizing that we have had the same or worse experience.  Or sometimes people say it to us, and if we are as mature as we like to believe, we suddenly stop whining out of sheer embarrassment, realizing that here is someone who has not only had the same experience but to an even worse degree.  I often wish Jesus were here to say that to those who complain about his church.

            So they hurt your feelings?  They didn’t come see you when you were sick, they didn’t help you when you were depressed, they didn’t praise you in public after you did a good deed, the preacher preached a sermon that stepped on your toes, and you don’t like the way the Bible class teacher looked right at you when he mentioned a particular sin. 

            Tell it to Jesus.  No one complimented him on his sermons. They usually just got mad and walked away.  Even his own disciples scolded him for insulting the Jewish rulers.  They called him a liar, a blasphemer, a madman, demon-possessed, and a child of fornication, none of which was true.  He didn’t sit there pouting, he kept right on teaching, right on serving, even people who didn’t deserve it, like you and me.

            So the elders won’t listen to you, especially when you think you have discovered something new.  They won’t use you in the way you think you should be used.  You aren’t asked to lead the singing as often as you think you should, or teach the classes you think you should be allowed to teach.  They won’t give in to your pet ideas about how things should be said or done or presented.  So why should you bother to try any longer?  Why should you keep a good attitude, or do the things you are asked to do as well as you can when you aren’t even appreciated?

            Tell it to Jesus.  I found ten passages in the gospels where the people in charge “communed with one another” to see how “they might destroy him.”  At least seven of those ten were completely different events.  Has anyone in the church done that to you yet?  Has anyone taken up rocks to stone you?  Has anyone nearly pushed you over a cliff?  Has anyone even come close to crucifying you yet?

            No, but the church is full of hypocrites.  Why should I even have to sit in the same building with them?  Why can’t I just leave and do it my own way?  You know their two-faced worship isn’t acceptable to God, so why must I keep company with them? 

          Tell it to Jesus.  He never stopped attending the synagogues on the Sabbath, and that wasn’t even part of the Law, it was simply a tradition that had begun after the return from the captivity.  He still attended the feast days right along with all those horrible people, even the Feast of Dedication, which was just a civil holiday.  He never left the work God gave him to do because someone hurt his feelings.  He never quit because people didn’t give him the due he deserved.  He never allowed the sins of others to cause him to forsake the God who deserved his love and loyalty.

            Are you going to let those phonies do that to you?  If you do, doesn’t that make you one of them?
 
…The LORD is with you while you are with him. If you seek him, he will be found by you, but if you forsake him, he will forsake you. 2 Chronicles 15:2
 
Dene Ward

 
"There is room in the kingdom of God, my brother for the small things that you can do; just a small, kindly deed that may cheer another is the work God has planned for you.
Just a cup of cold water in His name given, may the hope in some heart renew; do not wait to be told, nor by sorrow driven to the work God has planned for you.
There's a place in the service of God for workers who are loyal to Him and true; can't you say to Him now, "I will leave the shirkers, and the work Thou hast planned I'll do."
There is room in the kingdom, there's a place in the service, in the kingdom of God for you. There is room in the kingdom, there’s a place in His service, and there is a work that we all can do. "
--- J.R Baxter, Jr.

              I am going out on a limb with this one.  It could very well be just a coincidence, but I learned a long time ago that hymn writers often have a far better grasp of the scriptures than I do, especially things in the prophets.  So here goes.

              Look at the first line of the hymn above.  Do you see that phrase "the small things?"  We have a tendency to make judgments about how big or little things are, and therefore, how important they are.  We even talk about big and little sins, as if making ours less important will do anything but make it even more impossible to recognize the need to repent.  But the point of this hymn is the same point Paul made in 1 Corinthians 12—we are all important for what we can do, no matter how we may judge our abilities or the abilities of others.  Paul wasn't the first one to make that point.

              For whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice, and shall see the plumb line in the hand of Zerubbabel...” (Zech 4:10).

              Maybe this isn't the passage the lyricist had in mind, but just maybe it is.  The exiles who returned from Babylon rapidly became discouraged as they built the new Temple.  Yes, they had opposition, but that wasn't all of it.  Some of the very old remembered the first Temple, the magnificent edifice Solomon built.  This feeble attempt to replace it didn't even come close. 

              ‘Who is left among you who saw this house in its former glory? How do you see it now? Is it not as nothing in your eyes? (Hag 2:3)

              But many of the priests and Levites and heads of fathers' houses, old men who had seen the first house, wept with a loud voice when they saw the foundation of this house being laid, (Ezra 3:12).

              But God through Zechariah told them their judgment was faulty.  The small things lead the way to the larger, more glorious things.  Without the small things, you will never achieve the great things.  Ellicott says the "interrogative sentence is practically a prohibition:  'Let none despise the day of small things.'"

              Zechariah is full of Messianic passages.  The Temple they built in that time was obviously the precursor to the spiritual Temple the Messiah would build—Mt. Zion, the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, the general assembly and church of the firstborn, the kingdom "that cannot be shaken" (Heb 12:18-28).  But none of that would have happened if the small things hadn't been done first.

              And so today, in that glorious kingdom, if all we can do are "small things," let no one despise them.  God can make use of whatever meager attempts we make to serve.  One phone call, one kind word, one card in the mail, may keep a faltering soul from giving up.  One example set on a day when we are weary and wondering if it is all worth it, may be the example that sets someone else on the right path.  One meal when a mother is ill, one mended tear on a shut-in's blouse, one visit to a widow noticed by her wayward family member may be the impetus for the return of the prodigal.  It is not up to me to decide what service is too small and despise it by refusing to do it.  God is the judge, and he rejoices in the day of small things.
 
His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’ (Matt 25:21)
 
Dene Ward

I was looking through some of the older hymns for another entry in this recurring series when my eyes fell upon "Peace, Perfect Peace."  This small, seemingly insignificant hymn, one that is often labeled "boring" especially by a younger generation, has lasted almost a century and a half despite that misconception.  I started doing some research and came across this article, which says it far better than I ever could.
 
               So here are the words of guest writer Matt W. Bassford, from his blog, hisexcellentword.blogspot.com.  (Used by permission.)  I recommend the entire blog wholeheartedly.
 
                                     Hymns and Scriptural Literacy

In the worship wars, one of the most common criticisms of traditional hymns (sometimes stated, often implied) is that they are boring.  Particularly, they bore young people, so if we want young people to continue to worship with us, we’d better sing songs that are exciting or at least interesting.

Admittedly, most traditional hymn tunes are not the kind of music that sets the pulse to racing.  In fact, many hymn-tune composers were aiming for solemnity and thoughtful repose rather than excitement.  However, even though I find this to be true, I personally still don’t think that well-written hymns from any era are boring.  Even if they leave me contemplative, they don’t make me want to go to sleep.

I wonder, then, if the source of boredom for some and fascination for others lies not in the music but in the lyrics.  In particular, I wonder if it lies in the rich Biblical allusions that are characteristic of the best traditional hymns.  Singers who are Scripturally literate will recognize the Biblical language and appreciate its use, while singers who aren’t Scripturally literate will miss the point and find nothing to dwell on.

I started thinking about this while singing “Peace, Perfect Peace” at a funeral last week.  For those who don’t know it, here are the first five verses:
 
Peace, perfect peace, in this dark world of sin?
The blood of Jesus whispers peace within.
 
Peace, perfect peace, by thronging duties pressed?
To do the will of Jesus, this is rest.
 
Peace, perfect peace, with sorrows surging round?
On Jesus’ bosom naught but calm is found.
 
Peace, perfect peace, with loved ones far away?
In Jesus’ keeping we are safe, and they.
 
Peace, perfect peace, our future all unknown?
Jesus we know, and He is on the throne.
 
“Peace, Perfect Peace” is a hymn I’ve known all my life.  I can’t remember learning it.  However, I certainly have not fully understood it for all or even most of my life.  The music isn’t particularly stirring (see “solemnity and thoughtful repose”, above), and even though I knew what the words meant, I didn’t get the hymn.

That changed once I started reading through the Bible regularly.  In the course of so doing, I encountered Isaiah 26:3, which reads, “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” (ESV)
Ohhh.  All of a sudden, the hymn went from blah to brilliant.  Edward Bickersteth didn’t pluck the phrase “peace, perfect peace” from thin air.  He plucked it from Isaiah 26:3.  In fact, he is confronting the apparent impossibility of the promise that Isaiah 26:3 makes.  

How can it be that God guarantees that I will have complete and total peace despite all of these problems I’ve got?  Just look at all of ‘em!  I’m constantly struggling with sin, my life is busy and out of control, I’m depressed, I miss my family, and I have no idea what’s going to happen next!
(Side note:  even though this was written nearly 150 years ago, it’s hard to imagine a better portrait of the lives of 21st-century Christians.)

In every case, Bickersteth points out, the answer to our problems is Jesus.  In the blood of Jesus, we find forgiveness for sin.  We rest in our service to Him.  We turn to Him in despair.  We trust Him to protect our loved ones, no matter where they are.  It’s even OK that we don’t know the future, because we do know Jesus.  In other words, Jesus is not only the fulfillment of all of the Messianic prophecies of the Old Testament.  He’s the fulfillment of Isaiah 26:3, because perfect peace is possible through Him.

That’s an amazing point.  It’s so profound that “profound” doesn’t really do it justice.  Any Christian should be able to sit and meditate on that for a good long time.  

However, “Peace, Perfect Peace” doesn’t come right out and make that point.  It implies it, but in order to catch the implication, you have to know Isaiah 26:3.  
Sadly, a lot of Christians are more likely to know the square root of pi than they are to know Isaiah 26:3.  They’ve never read the Bible cover-to-cover even once.  When they come home from work, they don’t bust out the Good Book to relax.  They turn on the television.  As a result, their spiritual maturity is about on the level that a good friend of mine lampoons in his Answers To Every
Question In Bible Class:
               “Who did it?”
               “Jesus!”
               “Where did it happen?”
               “Jerusalem!”
               “What should we do?”
               “Obey God!”

Christians on this level are going to be baffled by the likes of “Peace, Perfect Peace” just as surely as the natural man of 1 Corinthians 2:14 is going to be baffled by the things of the Spirit of God.  They will find their worship home in the contemporary songs written with a Jesus-Jerusalem-obey God amount of depth because that’s how much spiritual depth they have too.

Of course, it’s not necessarily shameful for a Christian to be at that level.  If your hair’s still wet from your baptism, you’ve probably got some growing to do before you grow into Isaiah 26:3.  Yes, our repertoire should include songs for brethren at the wet-hair stage of spiritual maturity.  Often, believers at this point are best served by hymns that use simple, accessible choruses as a gateway to meatier verses.  Here’s something for you to understand now; here’s something for you to grow toward understanding.

What is shameful, though, is for Christians whose hair dried 25 years ago to remain spiritually immature and Biblically ignorant.  If you’ve allegedly been devoting your life to the Lord for decades (which is true of most Christians), you should know Isaiah 26:3.  

In fact, “Peace, Perfect Peace” assumes this level of Biblical mastery.  Bickersteth didn’t write the hymn because he thought that congregations of Victorian-era Anglicans would miss the point.  He wrote it because he expected them to get it.  The hymn’s survival, long after Bickersteth himself died, shows that worshipers did get it.  It is only the Biblical illiteracy of our age that renders the hymn (and others like it) inaccessible.

The solution to the problem is not to dumb down the repertoire.  That would be like “solving” the crime epidemic on the South Side of Chicago by making murder a misdemeanor.  When you address failure to meet a standard by lowering the standard, all you get is more bad behavior.  

Instead, we must allow our challenging hymns to challenge us.  In our songs, we need to wrestle with concepts above the Jesus-Jerusalem-obey God level.  We need to sing things that we don’t fully understand yet, identify our lack of comprehension, and seek answers in the word.  Let’s put away the childish things of a content-light repertoire and worship with doctrinally rich hymns that will lead us on to maturity!
 
Matthew W Bassford
http://hisexcellentword.blogspot.com/

Just as I was taught in my college pedagogy classes, I ran my music studio with a policy letter.  It explained what the students and parents could expect of me and what I expected of them.  It explained the payment schedule, and all the things they received for their money—far more than the minutes I spent parked on the bench next to their child.

            The letter also explained my “instant dismissal rules.”  The trick to instant dismissal rules is to have very few, but to enforce the few you do have without fail.  Suddenly you are being treated like a professional instead of the little old lady down the street who teaches a piano lesson or two to pass the time.  I was a professional, the professors told me, with 13 years of training—about as much as a doctor, so I did deserve to be treated that way.  I went over the letter at an interview before ever accepting a student—especially the instant dismissal rules--and the parents signed it and kept a copy.

            My instant dismissal rules?  If you miss seven lessons in the year, whether excused or not, you are dismissed.  If you miss three consecutive lessons, whether excused or not, you are dismissed.  Those two were as much for the student and his parents as they were for me.  If a child was missing that much, he wasn’t getting his parents’ money’s worth.  It also wasn’t fair to my two year waiting list to have to wait for a spot held by a child who was seldom there.  Since the applicants had come from that list themselves, they understood that point immediately.

            My last rule was this:  if you miss the Spring Program you are instantly dismissed.  Why?  I spent at least $200 a year on my annual program in recital hall rent, refreshments, paper goods, printing, and props.  Besides solos, we always had group numbers, and if one child missed, it wrecked a whole piece for several students, not just him.  And finally, this was my advertising; this was how I showed the parents that I was worth the money they were spending.  A wrecked Spring Program was a business disaster.

            In 35 years I think I invoked the instant dismissal rule only twice.  One student was ready to quit anyway, so she simply didn’t show up for the Spring Program.  She knew exactly what she was doing, and since I halfway expected it, I managed to keep the damage to a minimum.

            But another time, a young man who was doing very well didn’t show up and had not called ahead.  (Yes, if there was a legitimate emergency I was not a Hard-Hearted Hannah.)  No one else knew where he was either, and I had to scramble at the last minute to find an older, accomplished student who could pinch hit for him with no warning.

            The next morning I called his mother and told her he was dismissed and why.  Her reaction?  She was furious.  “We had company!” she exclaimed, and I then made mention of the policy letter she had signed, telling her that her company would have been more than welcome.  “That old thing?  I haven’t even looked at it since you handed it to me.  How am I supposed to remember all that stuff?”

            Any time I tell that story, people are horrified at that mother’s attitude.  Her son’s piano lessons obviously meant nothing much to her.  Yet while we will shake our heads at that story, we often do the same thing to God.  Imagine the mother above had been talking about the Bible. “That old thing?  I haven’t even looked at it since you handed it to me.  How am I supposed to remember all that stuff?”  I have a feeling some will try the same line on God at the end of the “term,” and will find out the God enforces his instant dismissal rules too. 

            My Spring Program was also an awards ceremony.  I managed to find enough things to award that any child who worked at it even a little could win something.  Only a few walked away with first or second place trophies from State Contest, yet anyone who came to every lesson, or met the make-ups I offered for excused absences, could win a perfect attendance ribbon.  If a student went away empty-handed it was because he didn’t try, and for no other reason.

            God is going to be handing out awards too, and you get the big one for simply following the rules in the policy letter and doing your best every moment.  Pull it out today.  He does expect you to read it.  He does expect you to remember it.  He doesn’t even mind if you bring your company with you.  But don’t expect Him to change the rules just for you.
 
He will render to each one according to his works: to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life; but for those who are self-seeking and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, there will be wrath and fury. Rom 2:6-8
 
Dene Ward

In the past few years I have found myself fighting sleepless nights on more than one occasion.  Keith always tells me that when that happens to him, he sings hymns in his mind until he falls back asleep.  I have yet to find a better thing to do, unless it is praying, but often they are the same.  How many songs can you find in your hymnals that are nothing more than prayers set to music?  I have a feeling that most of David’s psalms follow that same pattern.

            I recently found a phrase in the middle of a scripture that made me smile, even though the context didn’t.  Still, I think pulling that phrase out of its context is not wresting the scriptures in this case.  “God my Maker, who gives songs in the night,” Job 35:10.  I wonder how many times those hymns popped into our heads because a loving God sent them our way to help calm us and reassure us.

            The righteous sing for joy on their beds, Psalm 149:5.  After I found that verse, I began to wonder why “bed” was particularly mentioned, just as “night” was in Job. 

            Perhaps it is a metaphoric allusion.  We take to our beds when we are seriously ill.  I can get up and do things when I have a cold, but if I am really sick, I am in bed.  People who are nearing death are usually in bed, in fact, we call it the “death bed.”  In times of worry, when we try to sleep, we find ourselves tossing and turning in bed, just as I have done so often recently.  Why would we be inclined to sing at those times?

            Isn’t it obvious?  If we are God’s children, we have hope, we have a foundation of joy in our lives that keeps us grounded, and that joy often shows itself in song.  Even in prison, having been beaten and wondering what the morning would bring, Paul and Silas sang hymns of praise “at midnight,” Acts 16:25.  They weren’t in a comfortable bed, but the “nighttime” of trouble was upon them.  Even from childhood, aren’t we all just a little afraid of the dark?

            Do not think it strange that songs often come to us during these times.  Our God does not leave us desolate.  He gives us songs in the “night,” songs of comfort, songs of hope, songs of praise for his grace and love, songs of encouragement, songs of edification and even chastisement.  Those songs would not come to your mind without a God who cared enough not only to send his Son, but to send you songs in the times you need them most, in the night time of sorrow and fear and pain. 

            Often the grace of God comes in a song that keeps going round and round in your mind.  It’s up to you to sing it.
 
By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. Psa 42:8
 
Dene Ward

I taught piano lessons (and later added voice lessons) for over 35 years.  By the time I had to quit due to my eye problems, I had a full studio with a two year waiting list.  My students participated in three competitions a year, and no less than four joint recitals, depending upon their ages and their pieces.  At the end of the year, we had what I billed as "the Spring Program," because most people considered recitals "boring" and our programs were anything but.  We put on a show and we had fun.  And afterward I handed out sometimes as many as 20 awards, including some state competition trophies.  Yes, it was a very big deal in our lives.

              "Our lives" because my boys were part of it.  I taught them both.  Lucas went on to focus on voice and theory, while Nathan stayed with the piano.  It's always satisfying to see your children follow in your footsteps.  One day Nathan and I sat down and sightread duets for a half hour or so.  I don't know about him, but I had a blast.  He had grown and learned enough that we could share on an equal footing, a truly exhilarating experience.

              And now, thanks to seeing Daddy play at home, my grandson Silas has started piano lessons.  Last spring I went to his first recital.  He had wowed me all morning, playing a hands-moving-together piece at a difficulty that no 6 year old student of mine had ever reached—with only 8 months of piano under his belt.  We not only practiced his piece, but his bow as well. (Any of my old students reading this will understand.)  And so we all went to the auditorium and sat four rows from the front while he walked up to the grand piano and played his piece.  Perfectly.  With the classiest bow of the evening.  Just last week he did the same thing, this year playing three pieces—perfectly with an almost professional bow.

              I couldn't stop smiling.  And I also couldn't stop the tears from welling in my eyes.  Somehow I managed to get them under control before he saw them, and I gave him a huge hug.  "I am very proud," I said.  "You have made me very happy."

              As proud and happy as I was that day, there are a few other things that would make me even happier.  I doubt I even have to list them.  You know exactly what I am talking about because you wish them for your children and grandchildren too.

              I still help Silas with his piano practice.  With a new piece I often play the left hand while he plays the right, and then we swap places.  By then he can manage to put both hands together himself.  I still help with the theory homework, clapping out rhythms and asking questions that lead him to the right answers.

              But more often than that, we talk about Bible characters, narratives and principles.  We talk about God.  We pray together and sing together.  We memorize verses and recite them together.  Doesn't he get this from his parents?  Of course he does, but the more he gets from more different people—especially people who mean something to him—the more it will mean to him, and the better it will stick.  Just like his Grandma and Daddy playing the piano.

              That first recital was wonderful.  But a first public prayer, a first sermon, and of course, the first commitment--when the time is right--will be even better.
 
But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children, to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments. (Ps 103:17-18)
 
Dene Ward

We usually think of enablers in a negative sense—people who allow others to engage in destructive behaviors by their avoidance of the issues.  But enablers can be positive influences as well.  Teachers and coaches are enablers.

            I once had a student who, by the time she reached her high school years, had convinced herself that she could not memorize music.  We discussed the various types of memory—muscle memory, aural memory, visual memory, and intellectual memory, all of which are involved in memorizing music.  All of our competitions involved memorizing, and though I always gave my students a choice about participating, she wanted to do so, even though the process of memorizing seemed to elude her. 

            She would only attempt one type of memorizing—muscle memory.  “That’s the only way I can do it,” she said, over and over as if it were a mantra.  The problem with relying on muscle memory alone is that when you are nervous, you tense up and suddenly everything “feels” different.  She wouldn’t even try to work on the other methods.  So I took things into my own hands to prove to her she could.

            Every quarter we had a class instead of a private lesson.  For that quarter class I arranged learning stations.  The students moved from station to station, accomplishing tasks in the various areas of music, keeping track of their scores as they went.  As one student left a station, another took his place. 

            At one station I placed an eight bar piece from a beginner book on a music stand.  They were to sit and study the music making mental note of beginning notes, the way the music moved, and the rhythm pattern, then try to play it without the music, having made use of both visual and intellectual memory.  I stood at this station since I had to be the one to look at the music and tell them if they got it right.  If it was correct the first try, they got 10 points, the second try they got 5 and the third they got 3.  If they still did not play it correctly, they got 1 point for trying and then moved on.  This was a class of teenagers, students who performed at the moderately difficult level in the state competition, so playing this simple five finger melody with a two chord accompaniment was like asking a college math professor to do the multiplication tables.  Only one student took 2 tries and it was NOT the young lady in question.  She accomplished the task on her first attempt.

            “I know what you were trying to do,” she said afterward, “but you’re wrong.  I can’t memorize that way.”  I wanted to scream at her stubbornness.  I had just proven that she had the intellectual capacity for more than basic muscle memory and she was still arguing with me.

            I imagine God must feel the same way about us sometimes.

            May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, Col 1:12.

            To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, 2 Thes 1:11.

            For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control. 2 Tim 1:7.

            Who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. 1 Pet 1:5.

            “Yes, but…” I hear you saying.  It isn’t me you are saying that to—it’s God.  It’s his power that has been granted to you, to endure, to overcome, to fulfill every good work, to last until the end.  It’s the same power, Paul says in Eph 1:20, which raised Christ from the dead.  That power will enlighten you, give you hope, wisdom, knowledge, and a rich inheritance; it is “immeasurable” (vv 14-19).  To deny it with a “yes but” is to call God a liar.

            Maybe the problem is that we want God’s power to do it for us, with no effort required on our parts.  It doesn’t work that way.  We must patiently endure.  We must do good and stay faithful no matter how difficult it becomes.  That is what God’s power, not our own, enables us to do.  And that means, “I can’t,” is no longer a valid excuse.
 
Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. Eph 3:20,21.
 
Dene Ward
 

A long time ago my piano teacher organized her students into something called a junior music club, and one year I served as president.  Because we students were members of this club, we were eligible to participate in several special events and recitals, including something called “the Festival” where our performances were rated by a judge, who also gave helpful comments and encouragement.

              Twenty years later I joined a local chapter of the Florida Federation of Music Clubs and eventually attended one of their State Conventions.  As I watched, listened and learned, all the pieces began to click into place.

              FFMC is a group of “senior clubs.”  Unlike a professional organization, parents of students and music lovers in the community are allowed to join, along with the independent music teachers, which greatly increases your volunteer pool as you try to spread the love and appreciation of music and support music education in your communities. 

              Each teacher in the local senior group was supposed to organize her students into a junior club.  My teacher, whom I later discovered had been a State President of FFMC, did exactly that.  Here is the genius of that plan—you are growing your own replacements, teaching them what the organization is about, making them as useful as possible in whatever capacity they can manage at their various ages. 

            Unfortunately, few teachers did anything more than put their students’ names on a roster so they could take advantage of the privileges of membership.  Responsibility was never taught. And worse, the senior division, all the way to state level, did not use their younger members, even though they held “state elections.”  My son Nathan, who was also my student, was elected state president of the junior division in his senior year of high school, but I had to suggest, recommend, and finally push for him and his fellow officers to be used as real members.  No one had ever thought of that, which is probably why I did not at first recognize FFMC years later.  No one had taught me the ropes.  As a student I was a member in name only.

              The same thing happens in the church.  We look at our young people and call them “the future of the church,” and then sit back and assume that someday in that future they will “grow up in all things unto him” (Eph 4:15). 

              Here is the problem:  We treat baptism like flea dip for our dogs.  We get our children wet and say, "Whew!  Got rid of all those sins, now they're safe."  But Romans tells us that when we are baptized, we are raised to walk a new life.  Something has changed.  Do they know that?  Can young children even articulate what needs to change about themselves?

              Jesus says you don’t make a commitment to Him until you count the cost.  Have we helped them count the cost of discipleship to the Lord?

              Colossians tells us that we are raised from baptism to "walk with him."  "Walk" means a lifetime not a moment.  Are they old enough to even comprehend that sort of commitment?

              1 Corinthians 12 says baptism makes them “members of the body” (I Cor 12:13).  If they aren’t ready to be working members, committed servants who put others before themselves, then they aren’t ready to be baptized.
If all we teach them is that they must be baptized or they can't go to Heaven, all we have done is terrorize them, and shame on us.  It is simple to indoctrinate a child well before he is able to count the cost of changing his life, make a lifetime commitment and actually begin serving.  The New Testament knows nothing of junior members in the church; babes, yes, but even babes participate in on-the-job training, and most of the "babes" we see in the New Testament are physically adults.  This is the point:  Either they are members or they aren't according to Corinthians.  Consider the following.

            A working member does more than read the Scripture and pass the plates.  For one thing, what about the young ladies?  These young people may not have the deep knowledge and wisdom to participate in every aspect of the work, but they should all be able to serve the Lord’s body.  Teach them how and expect it of them.  Or else do not baptize them.

              Take them visiting with you—the sick, the lonely widows, even the bereaved.  If you don’t think your child can handle that, then think again about whether he was really mature enough to commit.  Have them help clean the houses and do the yard work for those who no longer can.  Keith had a stroke one year in the middle of leaf season.  Half a dozen young high school men came to our home—a thirty mile drive—and raked all morning.  Another group helped unpack when my mother moved, and another helped clean.  They were thrilled to help, returning to me again and again with, “What should I do now?”  These young people are obviously ready to serve.

              Teach them to take responsibility for their own Bible study.  That’s what a committed disciple does.  Expect them to not only do their class lessons without being told, but to develop personal study habits.  If you always have to remind them, are they really as devoted to the Lord as their baptism should have shown them to be?  If you are making excuses, especially in regard to their age, then once again you may be admitting that all you did was scare your child to death, not make them dedicated disciples.

              Take them to the extra Bible studies with you.  I do run a Tuesday morning Bible class for the women, but I also hold one on the third Sunday afternoon of the month for those who have secular jobs or other daytime commitments—like high school and college.  I have had teenagers as young as sixteen take part.  They do their lessons and comment almost as freely as the older women. 

              Turning your baptized offspring into working members will also do this for you—if I expect to teach my child what it means to be a member of the Lord’s body, I need to be showing them how myself.  Nothing made me a better Christian than having that red, wrinkled, squirming infant placed in my arms.  The same thing should happen when your child becomes a babe in Christ. 

              And speaking of babies, do you know why we have adult infants in the church?  Because we scared the innocent to death instead of teaching them early enough about conversion, service, and commitment.  There may be no better way to ensure the demise of the body of Christ than turning it over to the coddled who were taught that baptism was only about escaping Hell.

              Don’t call your young people by that unscriptural term, “the future of the church.”  Either they are members of the body or they are not.  Prepare them.  As the old saying goes, the future is now.
 
For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, whether bond or free; and were all made to drink of one Spirit. 1Cor 12:13

And all that believed were together, and had all things common; and they sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all, according as any man had need. And day by day, continuing steadfastly with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread at home, they took their food with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God, and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to them day by day those that were saved. Acts 2:44-47
 
Dene Ward