The Piano Lesson - Hitting The Wrong Notes

The Piano Lesson - Hitting the Wrong Notes

To sit alone with my conscience will be judgment enough for me. —Charles William Stubbs

THE YEAR WAS 1970. I’ll never forget that particular spring recital.

It was warm and muggy (and a bit smelly) in the old high school auditorium. There were about fifty of us in Ms. Hester’s class (I’d moved on from Aunt ’Cil’s tutelage), and the recital seemed to last FOR-EVER. I was bored out of my gourd.

About three-quarters into the event, a little boy, maybe ten years old, sat down at the piano and began to play with tremendous energy and passion. I was in awe. I didn’t know this kid, but I certainly looked forward to congratulating him for a fine performance over cookies and punch.

But then, all of a sudden, he just stopped playing. Right in the middle of a measure, he stopped and put his hands in his lap. After what seemed like an eternity (but in reality was probably thirty seconds), he reached up for his sheet music and turned it 180 degrees. His music was upside down. Well, the audience roared with laughter—as did he. I realized that day that mistakes happen, and it is our attitude and the attitude of others that will help us move beyond our errors.

You cannot learn to play the piano if you’re afraid of failure. You will hit wrong notes. Learning a new piece of music takes time, patience, practice, discipline, and determination. The same is true of playing life. We all make mistakes, but none are so bad that they can’t be righted. My mistakes are usually huge, and I call them sins. So how do I right those?

Most religions have a moral code; some actually agree that when you die, sin will separate you from God (heaven). End of story. Well, if that’s the case, I’m in big trouble. I try hard to be saintly, but sometimes I’m just bad to the bone.

In the Christian faith, we believe that, because of Jesus, our sins can be forgiven and we can spend eternity with God—even though not one of us is perfect. Now this I can handle. A forgiveness that doesn’t depend on my ability to try harder, but forgiveness that’s given because of my flaws. I just love this thing called grace.

“And they will not need to teach their neighbors, nor will they need to teach their relatives, saying, ‘You should know the LORD.’ For everyone, from the least to the greatest, will know me already,” says the LORD. “And I will forgive their wickedness, and I will never again remember their sins.” (Jeremiah 31:34)

I love the fact that my God is forgetful when it comes to the sin I confess before him.