The following article, which I wrote, appeared in the February 2014 Newsletter of the Utah Valley Chapter of the American Guild of Organists.
Almost two years ago I had the
wonderful opportunity to play for BYU Women's Conference. I was
ecstatic as I prepared. Ideas flowed, and I ended up incorporating
an assortment of creative techniques into the hymns. After many organ
commitments in the ten days leading up to the conference, which
included an unexpected family funeral, I was overwhelmed and felt the
pressure of the world on my shoulders. During my practice the night
before I was to play, things completely fell apart and I had to
accept the fact that due to my exhaustion, my practicing was now
complete, for better or worse.
The next morning, while sitting with
friends during the opening session of the second day of Women's
Conference, I felt so
nervous and began to
second-guess myself; none of the other organists had utilized
creative hymn techniques, was I looking beyond the mark? As they
announced the closing session, my friend turned to me and said, “Just
think: You get to play for an apostle of the Lord. An apostle will
sing to your
music!” Her statement opened my eyes and allowed me to see things
a little differently, yet I still felt inadequate. I still
questioned my choices—did I really want to solo out the alto on
that chorus? Did I want to add the end of phrase elaborations on
that verse? I didn't know how to let go of my stresses and let the
Lord in.
In the minutes before the closing
session, I again pondered on what my friend had pointed out, and my
purpose was finally made known to me. I realized I was there to help
bring the Spirit to the meeting and prepare those in attendance to
hear the message of an Apostle of the Lord. This purpose was not
only my privilege, but my great responsibility. I had been led to
choose that session; to incorporate techniques that would paint the
hymn text and unlock the power of these hymns. When I considered
simplifying the accompaniment by not playing my additional material,
I had the distinct impression that I was to play as I had prepared.
I knew that God was in control, and that I was just a part of His
plan. As long as I remained humble, things would go as they should.
Mordecai's statement to Esther played
through my head, “And who knoweth whether thou art come...for such
a time as this.” The weight of the world left me, and the peace of
God replaced it.
While my playing was not flawless, it
was powerful, and I received confirmation that it was an acceptable
offering. I was where I needed to be, I had listened to the Spirit
and accomplished God's purposes. He chose me
for “such a time as this,” just as He has chosen each of us in
our own sphere.
Every single time we play we are in a
position to lift a burden, heal a broken spirit, comfort the weary,
and bring joy and rejoicing to a happy heart! “Who knoweth whether
thou art come...for such a time as this” in the lives of those who
hear you play? We may never know the impact of our preparation, but
we should never doubt our important role in the lives of others.
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