GUEST WRITER: Dr. Joel Plaag
Scripture: Isaiah 2:4
They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.
Thought for the Day: I’d been practicing for a while – months – on the arrangement of Lasst Uns Erfreuen, which we know as “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow,” in the 11:00 service. Page one says “PLAY in Eb,” though written in another key. Page two is handwritten. I can do this, I think to myself. I’ve played the organ in church before – many times, in fact – but this is different. Ann is depending on me, and I can’t let her down. The voice in my head is bereft of assurance. I play as best I can. No one notices the terror that has been in my mind for weeks about these thirty seconds of the worship service. Nor should they. This was a personal struggle, played out in a melodrama meant for one.
Learning to overcome my own doubts shadows my existence – most of all when playing at a keyboard instrument. The fear strikes me breathless, powerless, and – in my mind – useless. As the weeks went on this month, the world didn’t come apart when I missed a note or two (or twelve). My love for music eventually stopped my fear of playing.
I’m sure, at this point, I could make a comical reference on trying to fill Ann’s organ shoes, but my feet are too big and too clumsy, and the reference too trite. But I did notice that my comfort level with the pedals improved and I could find notes that used to be a mystery. I never would have sat down at the organ, day after day, working towards Sunday morning. Today I enjoy a renewed appreciation for Ann’s quiet reassuring presence, week in and week out, leading worship and engaging us to be singers.
Growth is a primal factor in our lives. It only begins though when we show up, even if full of fear and self-doubt. It’s not just playing a musical instrument or singing – it’s ignoring those voices: will my rehearsal be engaging? can I find the right words to say without sounding foolish? what if everyone hates the Christmas music? When I woke up this morning – as every morning – I ask God to be my conductor; that He does His part as leader, and I do mine as chorister – even if that means just showing up.
When I ask for the Source of Peace to grant peace, it isn’t just the peace resulting from beating swords into plowshares, but also quieting the nagging self-doubt of my ego so that I can get my job done, that I can best serve Him by leaving my own internal battle out of the equation.