Sunday’s Musical Escapades

Sunday again, the Lord’s Day, the day we go to church to worship; but, sometimes worship has its lighter moments. Looking back at past posts, I found one I had written three years ago about some of those lighter moments.

Many years ago, I was the church pianist or the organist for a church in Tahlequah.  During that time, some Sundays were more memorable than others, for reasons not ecclesiastical. One summer Sunday, long ago,  I  wore red sandals with crepe rubber soles to church. I hadn’t worn them in years (I keep shoes and clothes until they are outdated, because, of course, one of these days they’ll be fashionable again). The red sandals were ten or fifteen years old.

I was sitting on the piano bench, well into a hymn, when I glanced down at the pedals. There under my feet was a scattering of whitish flecks. What in the world? And then, as my right foot connected with the pedal again, I noticed more mysterious grains. After the song service, my shoes felt odd as I walked back to my pew. A trail of crumbled crepe rubber on the carpet led from piano to pew. What? Had I done that?  No way could I plead innocence. The evidence began and ended with my shoes. After fifteen years, the crepe rubber soles had decided to give up the ghost.

After the service ended, I beat a hasty retreat to my car. Glancing behind me, I was relieved not to see an incriminating trail of rubber. My soles were back in the church. What the custodian thought when she vacuumed the floor that week, I don’t know, but as soon as I got home, the shoes went to their final resting place–the trash can.

Another time, different Sunday, I was seated at the electric-powered organ. One of Oklahoma’s memorable thunderstorms crashed and sizzled above the church; however, the congregation ignored all that noise and sang enthusiastically. We were belting out an old hymn, “Let the Lower Lights Be Burning” when a particularly bright bolt of lightning flashed. Lower lights, upper lights, and organ light blinked off. Undaunted, accompanied by only the piano in that dark building, we continued singing while the storm did its best to drown us out. We lower lights, undimmed by an earthly power outage, continued to shine.

There was the music loving spider who came to church one Sunday while I played the organ. He dropped down from somewhere above me on his invisible thread right in the middle of the Offertory and stopped twelve inches in front of my nose. My hands were busy on organ keys so I couldn’t swat him away. He hung there, staring at me. Who was I to squash one of God’s creatures who evidently loved music? Maybe he had dropped in to worship too.

Although none of these things seemed particularly amusing at the time, looking back I can laugh at them. God may have sent them my way to remind me that He has a sense of humor and we, His people, should too.