A Willing Heart

It was Sunday morning, 7:00 am.  I sat on the bed in Rebecca’s room, hoping to get the chance to use the bathroom before church.  One high school youth member came out, and another went in, after a small fight with the other three remaining girls.  I brushed my teeth in the bedroom, grabbed my music books and decided just to go to the church next door to play through the hymns before the 8 am service.

That’s correct.  I was visiting Tenom, the small town in the mountains where Rebecca, a YAGM and good friend, lives and works.  Part of the reason I visited was simply to assist in the youth choir rehearsals on Friday and Saturday.  I had no idea that would mean I would be singing Christmas carols in Chinese, teaching kids how to play melodions in Malay (little keyboards that played by blowing air into them), or accompanying a whole rehearsal, as I did on Saturday.  I also had no idea it would mean being a song leader for the women’s Christmas celebration ceremony, or the pianist at the service on Sunday morning.  But it’s generally pretty hard for me to say no when people ask me to do something, and I was there to help.

So I get to the church and use the bathroom there.  Then I try to find a hymnal.  There are three or four on the bookshelf in the back of the sanctuary.  I chose the familiar looking one, even though it’s mostly Chinese.  Maybe some hymns have Malay translations.  I find each of the five hymns and start playing.  They don’t quite seem right.  A man shows up with a list of the hymns and the names don’t match.  We realize I have the wrong hymnal.  Perfect.

It’s now 7:45 and I start sight-reading through five unfamiliar hymns with words only in Malay.  I’m crabby, hungry, feeling pretty grimy, and not really sure what I am supposed to do.  When do I play prelude?  How long?  There’s no bulletin?  How will I know when and what to play?

I’ve played enough church services in the States to know how things work, and have a routine with new churches.  I ask the pastor some questions about hymn introductions, prelude, offering, communion and then look through the bulletin very closely.  How can I function when my brain isn’t working fast enough to process a Malay conversation and there’s no bulletin?

The pastors, a very nice Chinese couple, come in and inform me I need to play the prelude after the bell rings.  One question answered.  The bells rings and I start the prelude Pastor Lucy requested I play, a relatively difficult hymn arrangement I usually avoid.  Less than half way through, the leader begins to speak, welcoming everyone to church.  Surprised, I find a chord to end on and quickly stop.  Lesson learned:  keep it short. 

As the service proceeds I only manage to make one large timing error, starting a hymn during what I think is the Apostle’s Creed.   Instead of celebrating the accomplishment of only one mistake in half a service I mostly don’t understand, I am more crabby and upset.  And then comes the sermon.   Thankfully the piano bench is against the wall, so I can sit back and just relax. 

Pastor Lucy begins to talk about Mary and four characteristics she has.  I can’t remember them all, but I do know the second one was a humble, willing heart.   As I relax behind the piano, not trying to understand, I hear my name.   And my brain kicks into gear. I realize I am an example in the sermon.  Yes, Pastor Lucy used me as an example of somebody with a heart willing and open to serve when asked.   Reality check.

I suddenly become more attentive.  More aware that this might be the first and only time a white person who can speak a little Malay plays piano for their service, and that my crabby attitude at the piano in the front of the room, is probably obvious to the people in the very last pew. 

In my head I laughed at the irony of it all.  Here I am musically accompanying a church congregation who has let me walk alongside them (accompany them)  in their daily meetings, practices and gatherings for four days.  Who has invited me to accompany them by sharing the gift I have been given in so many different ways.   And I was crabby, simply because I hadn’t eaten, didn’t get to wash my face in the morning and didn’t have any details about or control over the service I was leading.

I am learning I have very little control in accompaniment.   The only requirement is a humble and willing heart, somebody willing to share their life with me, and the mysterious work of the Holy Spirit to bring us together.