Getting Out More Than We Put In
Here's a personal example. Several years ago I called the home of Kim and Nancy Moore and was "on hold," waiting for Kim to come to the telephone. Then in the background I heard sounds: one of the Moore's daughters, Hannah, was practicing the piano. The faint notes forced me to strain to discern the tune.
Soon it was obvious. She was playing "He Who Is Worthy At Last," a song I originally heard on December 31, 1997 when 14-year-old Zack Stanton played his composition publicly for the first time. I made this entry in my journal:
"We had a New Year's Eve party at church, and several of us went upstairs to hear Zack play 'He Who Is Worthy At Last.' A small group gathered around the piano, and several tried to sing. Should the song ever become well known, we will remember the first time it was sung."
As Hannah continued, I secretly anticipated every movement of her fingers. Had she been aware of my unintended intrusion, she might have played with a different flair.
Why? Because we tend to wear one face in public and another in private. And the public face is often designed to impress--to get without first having given. But to hear this musician in diligent private practice was a special thrill because she didn't know that the one who had written the words to the song was eavesdropping.
Those words, born in a season of discouragement, were but a jumble of dry bones until a 14-year-old composer fashioned muscle and sinew upon their skeleton, creating a unique identity. And by the deft fingers of a 16-year-old pianist, life sprang from the musical score.
One person plants a seed. A second waters and tends the green shoot that soon pops up. And a third gathers an abundant harvest to share with others--including the one who planted the seed. And thus a cycle of giving and receiving is completed.
As this vignette replays in my recollection, two thoughts come to mind:
1. Many of our activities are not individual endeavors, but part of a process where we need each other for the process to work. Until the one who plants the seed tastes the fruit, a sense of incompletion lingers.
2. Faithfulness to duty, no matter how trivial it may seem, is vital. Weeding the garden--or practicing the piano for that matter--may not seem so necessary. But without them, the ultimate harvest will be greatly diminished.
If we're faithful to the duty of putting something into life, we will not be failures. By staying plugged into in the process, we allow others to do their part. And then we will be encouraged--by getting back more than we put in.
Copyright 2002 James McAlister
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