I love music, so whenever a child asks for lessons, I try my best to say yes. My Granny’s piano has been lugged from state to state with us, and all of my children have taken turns sitting on the bench. However, child #4 (true to form in trying something different) asked to play a more portable instrument: it was a foray into a new world of strings and chin rests and tuning pins. (Oh and did I mention–violin rental bills too?)
Not long ago, I was sitting at the 5th grade orchestra concert. These concerts, I’ve decided, can be divided into equal parts parental support and endurance contest. I sat dutifully in the cold, hard folding chair with my camcorder poised to capture every ill-fated note.
Then suddenly there sprang up a familiar tune above the fray–“Simple Gifts.” I remember these strains from my youth and have longed to live them. According to the hymn writer, to be simple is to be free–free from the cravings, the lusts, the pride of life. To be simple is to be in the right place–humble and bowed low before our Maker. To be simple is to turn, to repent and to agree with God.
I wonder how many times I make things more complicated than they need to be, when we are told simply to “repent and believe.” Lord, I do believe–help my unbelief.
And in this increasingly complex world, it still seems that the simple things, even simple faith, are more beautiful than all the distractions, especially as I lock my thanks for gifts into their antecedent foundation. So here is a singular simple gift today: