RE-TUNING

My piano hadn't been tuned in decades. When a local tuner opened the top to access strings and go to work, I cringed to hear how “off” it was. I've since learned that the pressure put on a piano's 218 strings is enormous—from 3400 pounds for my size piano, to the twenty tons in a concert grand.

I am not a great pianist. With small hands that barely reached an octave, I quit lessons in about sixth or seventh grade, when I began violin. I retained enough piano skills to play for worship services at a couple small churches I attended.

But “piano” is still a part of my heart. Thus I paid attention in reading about piano technology in Edith Schaeffer's Music: A Tribute to the Gift of Creativity (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1986). She wrote about visiting a warehouse where pianos (built for concert use) were professionally tuned. New pianos, she related, need “breaking in” and the wood treated as the strings are tuned. Depending on their construction, high-end pianos have a brilliance that will equip them for artists playing complex classical pieces by composers like Brahms, Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff. We're talking the Cadillacs and Mercedes of the piano world. But they are tuned, each string, one sensitive twist of a tuning pin, at a time.

As for mine, just regular “playing.” And for me, now, hymns and the arrangements I played when attending a church that still used preludes and offertories. Alas, my meager skills mean I “gulp!” when I open the music book to a piece that has a key signature denoting lots of sharps or flats. Let's just say that low-ability keyboard musicians (I'm in that category) prefer the simpler key signatures, not A-sharp minor, which keeps your fingers touching the black keys and your brain processing “go up, go up.”

So, is there a lesson from the “black keys' of the piano—those notes known as “sharps” or “flats” and that separate beginners from aspiring artists? Maybe it's this: that spiritual maturity is like progressing in music skills. When God forces us into the finger-twisting melodies of more difficult life experiences (the “black keys”), He has a beautiful melody in mind.

And there's another lesson from this piano-tuning image. Mrs. Schaeffer put it this way in her book:

Even as pianos need constant tuning and regulating—not only when young and raw, but all through their careers of being used for brilliant concerts—so people who are being used as “instruments of righteousness”--or, in other words, living creative, fruitful lives—need constant refreshing, “tuning.” (p. 191).

I've played on out-of-tune pianos. It is a painful experience! Though never comfortable or sought, God's sessions of “tuning” me spiritually—of twisting each “just-off” behavior or faith string to His perfection—is really the only way to go.

P.S. In 1997, while a student at Multnomah Bible College in Portland, I had the privilege of hearing Mrs. Schaeffer speak. I'd previously bought and absorbed her book Hidden Art, discovering how everyday efforts could be platforms to glorify the Creator. That day she autographed it for me. She passed away in Switzerland (where she and Francis had established “L'Abri”) in 2013 at the age of 98.

AUTOGRAPHED

I'm not an autograph-collector, but when I heard that Edith Schaeffer was to speak at my Bible college's weekly assembly, I grabbed my copy of her book Hidden Art and took a seat in the front row. What a privilege to see and hear a woman who with her husband, Francis, carved an indelible place in groundbreaking Christian apologetics. She also brought dignity to the simple arts: of personal pleasure in music, art, gardening, hospitality and homemaking. As the assembly ended, with unusual boldness on my part, I hurried up on the stage with my copy of her book, the cover open and pen in hand. She knew what that meant, smiled, and signed it. That was it. I faded away as others came behind me.

This was the late 1970s when the apologetics ministry of their Swiss compound L'Abri was becoming internationally known. Francis rose to worldwide prominence as a defender of the faith against existentialism and liberal theology. L'Abri welcomed spiritual seekers who jammed the alpine site. Her visit to my campus in 1977 was a big deal. Francis would die of cancer in 1984; Edith would live to 98, dying in 2013. This was one of her twenty books.

Whenever I open that book and see her handwriting, I'm reminded of something else: that we represent the handwriting of God on this planet. Yes, “handwriting” is a metaphor, but it's found in the Bible, as in Isaiah 49. There, through the prophet, God says He will never forget his people, any more than a loving mother forget the baby she nurses. It goes on:

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.(v. 16)

These days, people short on paper might ink a reminder on the hands, to be washed out later. But here the Hebrew word describes cutting--something more permanent. God has permanently autographed His hand with my name.

To look at it another way, most authors are glad to sign books they have written. I had the privilege of having several Christian living books published about patience, encouragement, and trusting God in life's hard places. When I spoke somewhere, I took books along—as most speakers do—and people asked me to sign them, usually with a “to” somebody before my name. I was glad to do so, identifying myself with the message.

Here's the bigger truth: each of us begins as a blank book. Our thoughts and actions –good and bad--fill their pages. The book that Edith Schaeffer autographed celebrated God's amazing works in the ordinary processes of life. She explored creativity and creation with robust thanksgiving to God. As I went through an emotionally and creative “lean” time in my life, I needed its encouragement for my own future with God.

As a new year opens, maybe that's the message many of us need. We're encouraged to put off the old past and embrace a new future: “Forgetting what is behind...straining toward what is ahead” in God's plan  (Phil. 4:13). We're given a blank book. What fills it up this year depends on each of us—and whose Name we choose to inscribe on its cover as the co-Author.

P.S. In researching “autographs,” I came across this site by a sports card collector. He featured sports personalities whose collector cards included a favorite Bible verse. What a way to witness!

Bible Verses on Autographs - TTM Autograph - Through The Mail Autograph Collecting