Play Me a Song, Piano Man

Adrian Romoff took the stage last night as I watched a re-run of America’s Got Talent.  On a show where you never know what you are going to get, the initial impulse was to write this child off as a cute kid.  However, as this 9 year old child prodigy sat behind a keyboard, something electric happened.  In a moment, as an observer, it appeared that the world seemed to melt away from around this child and all that was present to Adrian was the music, the keyboard, and his presence.  As this young man played, he ceased to perform and at one point he became indistinguishable from the music that flowed from a deep place in his being.  As he sat at the piano, he became a participant in the great chain of musicians who’d come before him and into whose work he was now contributing.

Standing along the wall of our new home is the remnant of my vain attempt at piano playing.  For nearly two and a half decades our family has carried this remnant from one home to another, now that heavy remnant has been passed to our family.  It has served much more a decorative piece of furniture than the vessel of beautiful music.  Mind you, I begged for a piano as a child.  I was going to learn to play.  For months, each week I’d ride my bike to Mrs. Morgan’s home, sitting in her cigarette smoke filled living room, learning the basics of this art.  Day after day, I plunked away on the keys.  However, it became obvious to both my parents and my teacher that I lacked the passion to ever move beyond a “plunker.”  When I sat on the bench, I awkwardly struck the keys, displaying my own complacency in practice.  My offering was a far cry from what I witnessed when Adrian Romoff sat at the bench. 

Unfortunately, throughout much of my Christian life, I have felt much more like a “plunker” as I’ve prayed than anything like Adrian.  My plunking around in prayer has much more to say about me than it does a reflection of who God is.  I haven’t always been disciplined in practice or intentional in paying the price to acquire the confidence of faithful prayer practice.  When Adrian played the piano, he was lost in the music.  He was indistinguishable from the melodies he played.  I was reminded of Jesus.  As Jesus prayed, he was lost in the “music.”  He became indistinguishable from the melodies of his soul rising up to the Father in Heaven.  He was so incredibly lost in the music that through his prayer His will would be united to the Father, His heart would beat by the rhythm of the Father, and that what he did was not a performance of righteousness but the natural flow of music from the deepest places of his being.  I long to engage prayer with such abandon, to be lost to the music.  I long to be so intentional in practice that when I sit at the bench I find my place as participant of the great chain of witnesses who’ve come before me, contributing my prayers to the ongoing melody of dependence, trust and faith.

Very few people have ever asked me to play piano for them.  Not only is “plunking” unpleasing to hear, the awkwardness of the “plunker” is evident.  Growing up I had a friend named Jed who was one with the music he played.  As his friends, we’d gather in around the piano and say “play me a song, Piano Man.”  We’d then give our requests and person by person he’d offer up his music.  Why did we ask Jed to play?  When Jed played, when Adrian plays, those in the presence of the musician are also caught up in the music.  Lord help me to live in such a way that people who ask me to pray, do so because they know that I won’t simply try to fix them, but because they trust that I’ve given myself away to the “music” and that in praying, they will be caught up in that music, that melody to God.