shadowwonder

“How about ‘Holy Ground?   Would you play that for us?’” Larry Landusky was our church’s pianist for the entirety of my growing-up years.   I hadn’t heard his music in a few decades, but he just happened to be in town for business, and he just happened to be willing to meet at a friend’s home for an impromptu Thursday evening concert. “Well, I usually have the hymnal when I do.   I’ll try, but I can’t promise it’ll be worth hearing.” He turned to face the keys, his hands poised only briefly before they found the opening triad, note by note.   From there, the music poured from his body, and the sounds embodied the lyrics. There are God-stories , and there are God-moments. Being a minister’s child, I can’t even guess at how many services I attended.   But the music was always a delight. Sunday after Sunday, choir special after choir special, offertory after offertory, Larry’s hands were the instrument of what I now understand to be ...

“Waiting, waiting for something to happen . . . .” I wrote those words as a college student, now over a quarter century ago, but they articulate a longing I’ve felt for most of my life.   In fact, the reason my second-grade self chose to walk the aisle that Sunday night is because I wanted to experience what it seemed like so many of the people around me were talking and singing about.   Even as an 8-year-old, I sensed something wasn’t right.   I recognized I was flawed, sinful, not as happy as everyone else.   I wanted to taste joy.   I wanted to see myself changed for the better.   I wanted something to happen. Fast forward to middle school, and I’m sitting in that same sanctuary, the weekday-morning sun casting its beams through the green and pinkish-purple windows lining the room.   My dad was on staff at that church, and, for a reason I can’t remember, I’d gone to work with him that summer day.   So, ever the dutiful youth...

I am ready to arrive at After. Where answers are, and resolution resides. Instead, I’m in the midst of During. Crisis is here, with complicated questions, and conflicts that confuse, even frighten. I cannot return to Before, where simplicity and innocence linger. So, I wonder about Ahead. I remind my heart to hope, set my face like flint, and walk the Now.