I sat, as I so frequently do, in a church pew on a Tuesday afternoon,
The church was empty and silent, just as it always is.
I prayed and pondered the mysteries of life,
Hoping that God would reach me in ways unexpected.
Selfish of me, perhaps, that I should want his presence to manifest as I dictate,
But I needed his love that day.
As I wrestled with these thoughts, a noise was heard unfamiliar.
The sound of an opening door.
I looked to the front of the church whence it came,
And there walked a man toward the piano with clear intention and purpose.
It took him a moment, but he saw me sitting there, solitary, before he sat to play.
“I’m sorry” were his words to me.
Sorry for what, I do not know, but I told him not to worry, nonetheless.
He sat behind the ebony piano and began to play.
I cannot fully describe the beauty with which he played that day, but I can try.
His hands moved with the elegance of royalty.
The notes were sweet to the ear and moving to the soul.
Each transition would bring with it a new wave of awe in my heart and my spirit.
I fell in love with the music, with his narrative, with the Holy Spirit I now felt in the room.
What did I do to deserve this beauty, God, after so selfishly seeking your manifest power?
Your mercy, Lord, and Your faithfulness shine through here this day.
I praise you for all that You are with all that I am.
Amen.