I started my music studio when I was 16, teaching students my own teacher had chosen for me from her waiting list.  Every Saturday, 8 little faces showed up at my door for a half hour of piano time each.    
            Unfortunately, they were not the only little faces I saw.  Regularly, their parents would say, “I need to do a little shopping.  They can play outside,” and leave their other children in our front yard, usually far longer than a half hour.  I had been taught to respect my elders and couldn’t even imagine telling them no.  I simply sat there and watched both the small pair of hands at the keyboard and the ever increasing number of children running around the maple tree, jumping up occasionally to open the door and quiet an argument or forestall an accident.  How in the world did they ever expect me to do a good job at piano teaching?
            Once I married and moved into my own home, the free babysitting stopped.  I was an adult now, and it didn’t hurt a bit that my college professor helped us all fashion “studio policy letters” that spelled out what would and would not be tolerated.  “You are a professional with a college degree (soon, anyway) so act like one and they will treat you like one,” we were taught.  No longer was I a free babysitter for the siblings during piano lessons.
            I wonder if our poor preachers and elders need to make a policy letter.  Regularly, the members, who pride themselves on “knowing better” than the denominations about scriptural practices, expect “free babysitting” from the men God has given other duties to perform.  Read Acts 20 with me this morning. 
            Now from Miletus he sent to Ephesus and called the elders of the church to come to him, v 17.  Notice, we are talking about the elders.  In the same context, speaking of and to the same men, Paul says, Take heed unto yourselves, and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you bishops (overseers), to feed (shepherd, pastor) the church of the Lord which he purchased with his own blood, v 28.  Did you catch that?  This is one of at least two passages where all the words for elder are used in the same context.  An elder is a pastor is a bishop is an overseer, and there were always more than one in a church.  The preacher is usually not a pastor and certainly not THE pastor of the church.
             I bet you knew that, didn’t you?  But guess what?  He is not THE minister either.  In fact, it’s a mighty sorry church that has only one minister in it.  That word is diakonos and it is used a couple of ways in the New Testament.  The word simply means “servant” but there was also an official position in the church, special “servants” who had specific duties and qualifications as well.  To make the distinction between that role and the other aspect of service, something every Christian is required to do, the translators created a new English word.  They Anglicized diakonos and made the new word “deacon.”  So sometimes that word refers to those specially qualified individuals who took care of the physical needs of the saints and the church as a whole. 
            Yet far more often, that word, and certainly that concept, is used of each individual Christian, as we minister to one another and to the world.  The problem is we don’t want to be ministers (servants).  We want everyone, especially the leaders in the church, to serve us!  How in the world can we expect them to do the job God really gave them when we want free babysitting as well?
            For God is not unrighteous to forget your work and the love which you showed toward his name, in that you ministered unto the saints, and still do minister, Heb 6:9,10.  The writer is not talking to preachers in this verse, and not talking about them in the next.  You know the house of Stephanas, that it is the firstfruits of Achaia, and that they have addicted themselves to the ministry of the saints, 1 Cor 16:15.  Could anyone accuse us of being “addicted” to serving?
            Anyone who serves is a minister.  Some seem to have special abilities and perhaps we could even say they have “a ministry.” And having gifts differing according to the grace that was given to us, whether prophecy, according to the proportion of our faith; or ministry, to our ministry; or he that teaches, to his teaching; or he that exhorts, to his exhorting: he that gives, with liberality; he that rules, with diligence; he that shows mercy, with cheerfulness. Rom 12:6-8.  Some have people in their homes more than others; some teach better than others; some have a special ability to relate to the young people; some seem to know exactly what to say when people are in trouble.  Some of us just do what needs to be done when we see the need.  All of us are supposed to be ministers in one way or another, and we should all reach the point that we don’t need a babysitter any longer. 
            When someone asks you who the minister in your church is, tell them it isn’t one man.  It isn’t even someone else.  It’s supposed to be YOU!
 
But Jesus called them unto him, and said, You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. Not so shall it be among you: but whosoever would become great among you shall be your minister; and whosoever would be first among you shall be your servant: even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many.  Matt 20:25-28.
 
Dene Ward

I never had much trouble sightreading piano music.  You read the note, you find it on the piano, and you play it.  I wasn’t perfect by any means—trying to read music and translate that to a mental keyboard in your mind and then have your hands immediately go to the correct place on the real keyboard in just a matter of milliseconds takes a quick mind and perfect eyesight, neither of which I had even then.  But for the most part I was a good music reader and got the job done, even if I did have to slow the tempo down so I could play in the correct rhythm too. 
            Then I got to college theory classes and was expected to sightsing!  Now that is a completely different issue.  Looking at a page of notes and singing them seemed like an impossible task to me.  It takes a natural ear.  If you don’t have one, you have to train it.  I had to put mine through boot camp the entire first year of theory classes.  Eventually I learned to do it—I could look at a piece of music and sing the notes, without accompaniment of any kind, not even chords to keep you in the right key.  I wasn’t any more perfect at it than I was at the piano, probably less, but I was musician enough to pass my tests, classes, and juries, and to make two college choruses and a women’s sextet.
            Most of the hymns in our books are written in standard major keys, with standard four part harmony.  They are nothing like the music I had to sightsing in college, so I can usually sightsing them without too much trouble.  It’s sort of like being asked to boil an egg when you have been making soufflés for four years--simple.  Most of the congregation, though, do not have the advantage of being trained musicians and they just sing it the way they first heard it, which in many cases was incorrect. That means that very often I stick out like a sore thumb (or a sour note).
            I have tried to sing what everyone else is singing just so I won’t, but I have trained myself so diligently that I can’t.  I’m a musician—I see the note, I sing what I see.  We were singing “When We All Get to Heaven,” the other day, and every time (at least three) I sang it right I created a clash that was hard to go unnoticed.  “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” creates at least five such clashes.  With “Amazing Grace” the list is nearly as long as the song itself.
            But you know what?  While I don’t want to cause those clashes, my training makes it nearly impossible to sing the songs wrong, and my desire to please God by obeying His commands to sing makes it completely impossible for me to stop singing.
            Isn’t that the way life is supposed to be for a Christian?  You really don’t want to clash with your neighbors.  You really want to “live peaceably with all men.”  But you should have trained yourself so well that you find it nearly impossible to sin.  Sticking out like a sore thumb shouldn’t matter to you.  Yes, it may be difficult, but no one ever promised us “easy.”  We are supposed to be different from unbelievers.  We are supposed to “conform to the image of His Son,” not to the world. It should be a habit by now.
            Sometimes when I sing things correctly, but differently, I get funny looks.  Once, a song leader even went to the microphone when that section came up on the next verse so he could sing the (wrong) note loud and clear.  I guess he heard my different note on the first verse and it bugged him. 
            This coming Sunday morning, if you hear someone sing a different note than you are singing, maybe you should check the notes you are singing.  Then do something much more important.  Use it as a reminder to check your life.  Could anyone tell you apart from your neighbors, or do you blend right in?  Out there in the world, you should be sightsinging a completely different tune.
 
But the wisdom from above is first pure—then peaceable…James 3:17.
Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed…Rom 12:2.
 
Dene Ward

When I was teaching piano and voice, besides my own annual Spring Program and Awards Ceremony, my students sometimes participated in as many as seven joint recitals a year, programs featuring the students of several teachers at once. 
            Sometimes the students were chosen according to their age—the Young Performer’s Recital was strictly for talented beginners.  It was their chance to shine rather than being lost among a studio’s advanced students.  Sometimes it was all about their music—the Parade of American Music featured students playing or singing the music of American composers.  If his best piece that year was Mozart’s Rondo in D, that particular student was ineligible.
            Sometimes a panel of judges chose the students based on their performances in a recent competition.  The year we had five chosen for the Student Day Honors Recital was a banner year for us.  To have one or two chosen from a group of over two hundred students from a dozen studios was a good showing.  Five was almost unheard of.
            At the receptions after these events, we teachers always enjoyed basking in our students’ successes.  We mined each other for teaching strategies and resources.  The experience exposed us to more crowd-pleasing music we could use with our own students, and our students to teachable moments we could discuss at the next lesson.  They could see for themselves why I insisted on such picky things as not taking your fanny off the seat until your hands left the keys when a student from another studio stood up without doing so, looking as if someone had glued her fingers to the ivory.  They could hear why long fingernails were verboten when it sounded like someone was trying to tap dance to Debussy and Haydn.  It also worked wonders for parental attitudes—suddenly they appreciated things they had before viewed as silly.
            My favorite moments after these recitals came when people approached me with these words:  “I can always tell which ones are yours.”  It wasn’t because they played or sang particularly well—every student at these recitals did that—but not every student performed well.  We spent hours on things like how to approach or leave the piano, how to hold a pose over a final note, what to do in a memory lapse, how a singer should hold the mood until the accompaniment stops, and especially how to bow.  It’s one thing to know your piece; it’s another to be able to present a polished performance of it to an audience.
            Sometimes I imagine God as the teacher watching our performances.  He knows we can do it.  He gave His Son to show us how.  …because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example that you might follow in his steps, 1 Pet 2:21.  I don’t think it is out of line to think of the angels saying to Him, “I can always tell which ones are yours.”  Isn’t that the picture we get in Job 1?  Perhaps not literally, but in essence if nothing else. 
            If life is one big recital, we should learn from the performances of others—what to do, what not to do, why some of the picky things we have always heard are important after all.  We should learn from our own mistakes as well—why do I always miss the same note?!  Your daily practice should take of that.
            God is in the audience, along with all those celestial beings we read about.  As a proprietary teacher myself, I can easily imagine that He wants to hear from them, “I can always tell which ones are yours.”
 
By this it is evident who are the children of God, and who are the children of the devil: whoever does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor is the one who does not love his brother. 1 John 3:10
 
Dene Ward
 

In the past few years I have found myself fighting sleepless nights on more than one occasion.  Keith always tells me that when that happens to him, he sings hymns in his mind until he falls back asleep.  I have yet to find a better thing to do, unless it is praying, but often they are the same.  How many songs can you find in your hymnals that are nothing more than prayers set to music?  I have a feeling that most of David’s psalms follow that same pattern.
            I recently found a phrase in the middle of a scripture that made me smile, even though the context didn’t.  Still, I think pulling that phrase out of its context is not wresting the scriptures in this case.  “God my Maker, who gives songs in the night,” Job 35:10.  I wonder how many times those hymns have popped into our heads because a loving God sent them our way to help calm us and reassure us.
            The righteous sing for joy on their beds, Psalm 149:5.  After I found that verse, I began to wonder why “bed” was particularly mentioned, just as “night” was in Job. 
            Perhaps it is a metaphoric allusion.  We take to our beds when we are seriously ill.  I can get up and do things when I have a cold, but if I am really sick, I am in bed.  People who are nearing death are usually in bed, in fact, we call it the “death bed.”  In times of worry, when we try to sleep, we find ourselves tossing and turning in bed, just as I have done so often recently.  Why would we be inclined to sing at those times?
            Isn’t it obvious?  If we are God’s children, we have hope, we have a foundation of joy in our lives that keeps us grounded, and that joy often shows itself in song.  Even in prison, having been beaten and wondering what the morning would bring, Paul and Silas sang hymns of praise “at midnight,” Acts 16:25.  They weren’t in a comfortable bed, but the “nighttime” of trouble was upon them.  Even from childhood, aren’t we all just a little afraid of the dark?
            Do not think it strange that songs often come to us during these times.  Our God does not leave us desolate.  He gives us songs in the “night,” songs of comfort, songs of hope, songs of praise for his grace and love, songs of encouragement, songs of edification and even chastisement.  Those songs would not come to your mind without a God who cared enough not only to send his Son, but to send you songs in the times you need them most, in the night time of sorrow and fear and pain. 
            Often the grace of God comes in a song that keeps going round and round in your mind.  It’s up to you to sing it.
 
By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. Psa 42:8
 
Dene Ward

Just as I was taught in my college pedagogy classes, I ran my music studio with a policy letter.  It explained what the students and parents could expect of me and what I expected of them.  It explained the payment schedule, and all the things they received for their money—far more than the minutes I spent parked on the bench next to their child.
            The letter also explained my “instant dismissal rules.”  The trick to instant dismissal rules is to have very few, but to enforce the few you do have without fail.  Suddenly you are being treated like a professional instead of the little old lady down the street who teaches a piano lesson or two to pass the time.  I was a professional, the professors told me, with 13 years of training—about as much as a doctor, so I did deserve to be treated that way.  I went over the letter at an interview before ever accepting a student—especially the instant dismissal rules--and the parents signed it and kept a copy.
            My instant dismissal rules?  If you miss seven lessons in the year, whether excused or not, you are dismissed.  If you miss three consecutive lessons, whether excused or not, you are dismissed.  Those two were as much for the student and his parents as they were for me.  If a child was missing that much, he wasn’t getting his parents’ money’s worth.  It also wasn’t fair to my two year waiting list to have to wait for a spot held by a child who was seldom there.  Since the applicants had come from that list themselves, they understood that point immediately.
            My last rule was this:  if you miss the Spring Program you are instantly dismissed.  Why?  I spent at least $200 a year on my annual program in recital hall rent, refreshments, paper goods, printing, and props.  Besides solos, we always had group numbers, and if one child missed, it wrecked a whole piece for several students, not just him.  And finally, this was my advertising; this was how I showed the parents that I was worth the money they were spending.  A wrecked Spring Program was a business disaster.
            In 35 years I think I invoked the instant dismissal rule only twice.  One student was ready to quit anyway, so she simply didn’t show up for the Spring Program.  She knew exactly what she was doing, and since I halfway expected it, I managed to keep the damage to a minimum.
            But another time, a young man who was doing very well didn’t show up and had not called ahead.  (Yes, if there was a legitimate emergency I was not a Hard-Hearted Hannah.)  No one else knew where he was either, and I had to scramble at the last minute to find an older, accomplished student who could pinch hit for him with no warning.
            The next morning I called his mother and told her he was dismissed and why.  Her reaction?  She was furious.  “We had company!” she exclaimed, and I then made mention of the policy letter she had signed, telling her that her company would have been more than welcome.  “That old thing?  I haven’t even looked at it since you handed it to me.  How am I supposed to remember all that stuff?”
            Any time I tell that story, people are horrified at that mother’s attitude.  Her son’s piano lessons obviously meant nothing much to her.  Yet while we will shake our heads at that story, we often do the same thing to God.  Imagine the mother above had been talking about the Bible. “That old thing?  I haven’t even looked at it since you handed it to me.  How am I supposed to remember all that stuff?”  I have a feeling some will try the same line on God at the end of the “term,” and will find out the God enforces his instant dismissal rules too. 
            My Spring Program was also an awards ceremony.  I managed to find enough things to award that any child who worked at it even a little could win something.  Only a few walked away with first or second place trophies from State Contest, yet anyone who came to every lesson, or met the make-ups I offered for excused absences, could win a perfect attendance ribbon.  If a student went away empty-handed it was because he didn’t try, and for no other reason.
            God is going to be handing out awards too, and you get the big one for simply following the rules in the policy letter and doing your best every moment.  Pull it out today.  He does expect you to read it.  He does expect you to remember it.  He doesn’t even mind if you bring your company with you.  But don’t expect Him to change the rules just for you.
 
He will render to each one according to his works: to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life; but for those who are self-seeking and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, there will be wrath and fury. Rom 2:6-8
 
Dene Ward

Now that I have tried to encourage the late beginners, it’s time to work on the rest of us—the ones who have been there, claiming to lay hold on the hope of life eternal from childhood.
            I once had a 6 year old piano student who progressed faster than any other that age.  Her mother had limited her children to one extracurricular activity and this one chose piano.  Because she was limited in how thinly she spread herself by a wise parent who knew that even children can suffer from stress, she regularly practiced more than I asked of her and could pick up on concepts that often had older students completely stumped.  She had “trained her powers of discernment by constant practice.”  Is it any wonder that I was ready to put her in a competition her first year, instead of waiting a year as I usually did?  Is it any wonder that she won first place at her level at a state competition the first time she went?
            When I was a child, people in the church were known for their Bible knowledge.  What has happened to us?  People who have been Christians for thirty or forty years cannot find their way through the Old Testament.  They cannot quote standard proof-texts.  When they try to recall those basic old stories, Jacob winds up married to Rebekah and Isaac to Rachel; Moses builds the ark and Daniel gets tossed into the fiery furnace.  You hear them introducing the preacher as either the Pastor or THE Minister of the church, as if there were only supposed to be one person serving in God’s family.  Hosea’s warning rings frighteningly in my ears--My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge, 4:6.
            When I was young, children actually came home from school every afternoon.  Families actually ate their evening meals together.  Television time and content was limited by parents who were home to supervise their children. 
            As we said last time, we apply the passage in Heb 5, what it takes to learn and grow, in every aspect of life BUT the one it was meant for.  We know what it takes to get a promotion at work, or to keep a job.  We know what it takes to pass a written driving test.  We know what we must do if we hope to learn anything new, whether a sport or art or subject we are interested in.  There is no excuse for not doing this with the subject we claim to be more important than any other in our lives.
            I find myself wondering what would happen if we made it a point to limit our children’s activities like the mother of my young student, so that there would be time for family Bible studies every night.  What if we turned that television off just one night a week, or turned it off one hour earlier every night so that we could study?  As a teacher, I can tell you what would happen.  We would KNOW God’s word, and with it in our hearts we could not help but BE better people.
           
With my whole heart I seek you; let me not wander from your commandments!
I have stored up your word in my heart that I might not sin against you.
Blessed are you, O LORD; teach me your statutes!
With my lips I declare all the rules of your mouth.
In the way of your testimonies I delight as much as in all riches.
I will meditate on your precepts and fix my eyes on your ways.
I will delight in your statutes; I will not forget your word.  Psalm 119:10-16
 
Dene Ward

I taught piano from the time I was 16 years old, and earned a degree in music education (piano and vocal) with a stress on piano pedagogy.  It seemed the ideal way to help with our family income without leaving my children.  Indeed, my children were also my students, and any time I had to go out of town for a competition they went too.
            I had students ranging in ages from 4 to 80, and I usually found that the students on the extreme ends of that range were the ones who took most of my energy.  I once had a 70 year old from a town 30 miles distant.  He was a real joy because of his intense interest and zealous practice.  He studied his theory lessons so hard that he regularly came to his lesson with a list of questions that took nearly half his allotted time to answer. 
            Once, when we were studying chords, he despaired at ever being able to instantly play one from its symbol alone.  Memorizing the difference between an A7, Am7, Adim7, AMaj7, as well as the standard A, Am, A+, and Adim took him several minutes and a lot of concentration. 
            “You do it!” he once said in exasperation, pushing the theory book my way on the rack, and I calmly played them one after the other simply by reading the symbols.
            “How long till I can do that?” he grumbled.
            I reminded him that I have been at this since I was 7, and had four years of college theory under my belt, too.  It would be a shame if I couldn’t do it.
            That reminded me of Heb 5:12-14:   For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food, for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.
            We apply that principle to life without thinking, as he did to his music lessons, but we want to make excuses when it comes to spiritual matters.  My student, because of his diligent practice and meditation on the theoretical aspects of music and harmony, had come a long way in a short time.  Though he might have been impatient with himself, when I asked him to go back to a piece he had struggled with the year before and he found it simple to play, he could recognize his growth and improvement.  He “trained himself with constant practice” and was ready for some pretty solid food in the way of piano compositions and music theory.
            It is easy to look down on yourself when all you see is your failings and others’ abilities.  If you became a Christian later in life, not having grown up with the Bible narratives taught in every children’s Bible class, not having heard sermon after sermon for years, it will be a struggle for you to catch up.  If you have simply sat on a pew handed down as if it were an inheritance, and only wakened to your commitment to the Lord as an adult, you might be behind, too. 
            There is a wealth of information in the scriptures, and as you get older, learning seems to take far more effort.  For me numbers especially become more and more confusing.  I remember passages because I memorized them as a child.  Start calling out numbers to me now and they will leave my mind immediately, or, if somehow remembered, will come out transposed. 
            Don’t give up—just practice more.  If a 70 year old man can learn chord symbols, if he can play thirteen major scales, and thirteen minors in all three variations, if he can become one of the best music students I ever had, you can certainly do the same for God.  And if you ever despair, take a look back a year or so ago.  Don’t you see the improvement?  Don’t you see the fruit of your effort?  You know more, you understand more, you can even answer questions you could not have comprehended when you first started.
            That is, you can, if you have been working at it.
 
Practice these things, immerse yourself in them, so that all may see your progress, 1 Tim 4:15.
 
Dene Ward

The competition weekends I have often judged were always fun and uplifting.  It is wonderful to hear the future stars of the concert stage make two full days of beautiful music.  Which does not mean it was an easy weekend.  90% of the performances we heard were mechanically and technically perfect.  Memory lapses were rare and finger slips even rarer.  So how do you choose a winner?

Actually, at the end of each session when our panel of three compared notes, we had all picked out the same three or four that distinguished themselves above the others:  pianists who played with feeling; who made the melody sound like someone singing; who understood how to shape phrases, not just separate them; who had the musical ear and technical ability to voice their chords; students who played the non-melody hand so far in the background it was as if it were in another room; who knew the difference between a Mozart forte and a Beethoven forte; who understood that rubato meant a proportionate time-stretching like the lettering on an inflated balloon, not just a rush followed by a drag.  In short, the winners were those who played not only with perfect mechanics, but with artistry as well—they put their hearts into it.

God’s people seem to have had a problem with that for a long time.  The prophets were constantly reminding them that while God expected absolute obedience, form worship was not acceptable.  If perfect mechanics were all that mattered, he could have created a world full of robots to fill the bill.  I hate, I despise your feasts and I will take no delight in your solemn assemblies, God told Israel.  Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and your meal offerings, I will not accept them; neither will I regard the peace offerings of your fat beasts, Amos 5:21,22.  Why?  Because it was a mechanical following of ritual. All during their “worship” they were saying, When will the new moon be gone that we may sell grain, and the Sabbath that we may set forth wheat, making the ephah small and the shekel great, dealing falsely with the balances of deceit; that we may buy the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of shoes, and sell the refuse of the wheat, 8:5,6.  Their religion did not affect their hearts and certainly not their everyday lives.

Jesus dealt with their descendants, not only by blood, but in attitude.  Were the Pharisees right to require exact obedience to the Law?  Jesus said they were:  The scribes and Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat.  All things whatsoever they bid you, these things do, Matt 23:2,3.  He even praised what we might consider petty exactitude:  you tithe mint, anise, and cumin…these things you ought to have done…Matt 23:23.  But like their ancestors, their heart was not in it.  Hear Jesus’ whole indictment:  Woe to you scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites, for you tithe mint, anise, and cumin, and have left undone the weightier matters of the law, justice, mercy, and faith; but these things you ought to have done, and not left the other undone.

Correct mechanics are important.  A lot of folks in the Bible learned that the hard way.  But our hearts are more important, according to Jesus.  It is easier to just go down a list and do what we are told than it is to monitor our hearts and keep them in line—but God has never had much truck with laziness either.  I didn’t give out any prizes for mechanical playing those during those competition weekends.  What makes us think God will give them out for mechanical worship?
 
“With what shall I come before the Lord and bow down before the exalted God?  Shall I come with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?  Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, and ten thousand rivers of oil?  Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgressions, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?  He has showed you, O man, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you, but to do justly, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” Micah 6:6-8
 
Dene Ward

I taught piano lessons (and later added voice lessons) for over 35 years.  By the time I had to quit due to my eye problems, I had a full studio with a two year waiting list.  My students participated in three competitions a year, and no less than four joint recitals, depending upon their ages and their pieces.  At the end of the year, we had what I billed as "the Spring Program," because most people considered recitals "boring" and our programs were anything but.  We put on a show and we had fun.  And afterward I handed out sometimes as many as 20 awards, including some state competition trophies.  Yes, it was a very big deal in our lives.
            "Our lives" because my boys were part of it.  I taught them both.  Lucas went on to focus on voice and theory, while Nathan stayed with the piano.  It's always satisfying to see your children follow in your footsteps.  One day Nathan and I sat down and sightread duets for a half hour or so.  I don't know about him, but I had a blast.  He had grown and learned enough that we could share on an equal footing, a truly exhilarating experience.
            And now, thanks to seeing Daddy play at home, my grandson Silas has started piano lessons.  Last spring I went to his first recital.  He had wowed me all morning, playing a hands-moving-together piece at a difficulty that no 6 year old student of mine had ever reached—with only 8 months of piano under his belt.  We not only practiced his piece, but his bow as well. (Any of my old students reading this will understand.)  And so we all went to the auditorium and sat four rows from the front while he walked up to the grand piano and played his piece.  Perfectly.  With the classiest bow of the evening.  Just last week he did the same thing, this year playing three pieces—perfectly with an almost professional bow.
            I couldn't stop smiling.  And I also couldn't stop the tears from welling in my eyes.  Somehow I managed to get them under control before he saw them, and I gave him a huge hug.  "I am very proud," I said.  "You have made me very happy."
            As proud and happy as I was that day, there are a few other things that would make me even happier.  I doubt I even have to list them.  You know exactly what I am talking about because you wish them for your children and grandchildren too.
            I still help Silas with his piano practice.  With a new piece I often play the left hand while he plays the right, and then we swap places.  By then he can manage to put both hands together himself.  I still help with the theory homework, clapping out rhythms and asking questions that lead him to the right answers.
            But more often than that, we talk about Bible characters, narratives and principles.  We talk about God.  We pray together and sing together.  We memorize verses and recite them together.  Doesn't he get this from his parents?  Of course he does, but the more he gets from more different people—especially people who mean something to him—the more it will mean to him, and the better it will stick.  Just like his Grandma and Daddy playing the piano.
            That first recital was wonderful.  But a first public prayer, a first sermon, and of course, the first commitment--when the time is right--will be even better.
 
But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children, to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments. (Ps 103:17-18)
 

A long time ago my piano teacher organized her students into something called a junior music club, and one year I served as president.  Because we students were members of this club, we were eligible to participate in several special events and recitals, including something called “the Festival” where our performances were rated by a judge, who also gave helpful comments and encouragement.
            Twenty years later I joined a local chapter of the Florida Federation of Music Clubs and eventually attended one of their State Conventions.  As I watched, listened and learned, all the pieces began to click into place.
            FFMC is a group of “senior clubs.”  Unlike a professional organization, parents of students and music lovers in the community are allowed to join, along with the independent music teachers, which greatly increases your volunteer pool as you try to spread the love and appreciation of music and support music education in your communities. 
            Each teacher in the local senior group was supposed to organize her students into a junior club.  My teacher, whom I later discovered had been a State President of FFMC, did exactly that.  Here is the genius of that plan—you are growing your own replacements, teaching them what the organization is about, making them as useful as possible in whatever capacity they can manage at their various ages. 
            Unfortunately, few teachers did anything more than put their students’ names on a roster so they could take advantage of the privileges of membership.  Responsibility was never taught. And worse, the senior division, all the way to state level, did not use their younger members, even though they held “state elections.”  My son Nathan, who was also my student, was elected state president of the junior division in his senior year of high school, but I had to suggest, recommend, and finally push for him and his fellow officers to be used as real members.  No one had ever thought of that, which is probably why I did not at first recognize FFMC years later.  No one had taught me the ropes.  As a student I was a member in name only.
            The same thing happens in the church.  We look at our young people and call them “the future of the church,” and then sit back and assume that someday in that future they will “grow up in all things unto him” (Eph 4:15). 
            Here is the problem:  We treat baptism like flea dip for our dogs.  We get our children wet and say, "Whew!  Got rid of all those sins, now they're safe."  But Romans tells us that when we are baptized, we are raised to walk a new life.  Something has changed.  Do they know that?  Can young children even articulate what needs to change about themselves?
            Jesus says you don’t make a commitment to Him until you count the cost.  Have we helped them count the cost of discipleship to the Lord?  Are they even able to?
            Colossians tells us that we are raised from baptism to "walk with him."  "Walk" means a lifetime not a moment.  Are they old enough to even comprehend that sort of commitment?
            1 Corinthians 12 says baptism makes them “members of the body” (I Cor 12:13).  If they aren’t ready to be working members, committed servants who put others before themselves, then they aren’t ready to be baptized.
If all we teach them is that they must be baptized or they can't go to Heaven, all we have done is terrorize them, and shame on us.  It is simple to indoctrinate a child well before they are able to count the cost of changing their lives, make a lifetime commitment and actually begin serving.  The New Testament knows nothing of junior members in the church; babes, yes, but even babes participate in on-the-job training.  Either they are members or they aren't according to Corinthians.  Consider the following.
            A working member does more than read the Scripture and pass the plates.  For one thing, what about the young ladies?  These young people may not have the deep knowledge and wisdom to participate in every aspect of the work, but they should all be able to serve the Lord’s body.  Teach them how and expect it of them.  Or else do not baptize them.
            Take them visiting with you—the sick, the lonely widows, even the bereaved.  If you don’t think your child can handle that, then think again about whether he was really mature enough to commit.  Have them help clean the houses and do the yard work for those who no longer can.  Keith had a stroke one year in the middle of leaf season.  Half a dozen young high school men came to our home—a thirty mile drive one way—and raked all morning.  Another group helped unpack when my mother moved, and another helped clean.  They were thrilled to help, returning to me again and again with, “What should I do now?”  These young people are obviously ready to serve.
            Teach them to take responsibility for their own Bible study.  That’s what a committed disciple does.  Expect them to not only do their class lessons without being told, but to develop personal study habits.  If you always have to remind them, are they really as devoted to the Lord as their baptism should have shown them to be?  If you are making excuses, especially in regard to their age, then once again you may be admitting that all you did was scare your child to death, not make them dedicated disciples.
            Take them to the extra Bible studies with you.  I do run a Tuesday morning Bible class for the women, but I also hold one on the third Sunday afternoon of the month for those who have secular jobs or other daytime commitments—like high school and college.  I have had teenagers as young as sixteen take part.  They do their lessons and comment almost as freely as the older women. 
            Turning your baptized offspring into working members will also do this for you—if I expect to teach my child what it means to be a member of the Lord’s body, I need to be showing them how myself.  Nothing made me a better Christian than having that red, wrinkled, squirming infant placed in my arms.  The same thing should happen when your child becomes a babe in Christ. 
            And speaking of babies, do you know why we have adult infants in the church?  Because we scared the innocent to death instead of teaching them early enough about conversion, service, and commitment.  There may be no better way to ensure the demise of the body of Christ than turning it over to the coddled who were taught that baptism was all about escaping Hell.
            Don’t call your young people by that unscriptural term, “the future of the church.”  Either they are members of the body or they are not.  Prepare them.  As the old saying goes, the future is now.
 
For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, whether bond or free; and were all made to drink of one Spirit. 1Cor 12:13

And all that believed were together, and had all things common; and they sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all, according as any man had need. And day by day, continuing steadfastly with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread at home, they took their food with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God, and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to them day by day those that were saved. Acts 2:44-47
 
Dene Ward