If you know me, you won’t be shocked to know that sometimes I get my tasks done at the very last minute. It isn’t always because I didn’t plan ahead. Sometimes Pastor Lowell and I have a last-minute idea about worship and we find ourselves rushing to pull it off. Sometimes I overestimate my ability to get something done in the ample time I have. And sometimes I have done my best to plan and execute a project and forces outside my control work against me. Rush.
This weekend, I’m really excited to be in Denver with Brian playing for the wedding of Olivia Seiller, Angie’s daughter, and her soon-to-be husband, Jack. If you’ve planned, helped to plan, or been involved with a wedding, you know how much thought and preparation goes into it. I’m only responsible for the music, and I can tell you that my own planning had to start months ago. Since I’m not on my home turf, I had to contact the venue to see if they had a piano. They didn’t. I found a place to rent a keyboard for the weekend. Do I need my own amplification? I contacted the DJ to see if we could share. Can Brian travel with his violin? Do I own dress shoes? You might think I’m kidding on that last one…Rush.
Those are just my tasks. And my best efforts aside, I still found myself panicking because I hadn’t heard from the piano rental place in a while, learning new music at the last minute because I decided I liked a song I just heard, getting things ready for other people to lead worship on Sunday, writing a blog (the one you’re reading now), and… throwing a pair of Brian’s shoes in the suitcase for me to wear because no, I don’t own a pair of dress shoes. Seriously. Rush.
I can only imagine how much work other people have put into their own parts of this event that will be so special for Olivia and Jack. Rush.
Yet at some point before the prelude starts, all of that frantic energy has to give way.
In music, there’s an essential moment before anyone enters the sanctuary: tuning the space. You sit down in an unfamiliar room, place your hands on the keys, and play a chord or two to hear the sound. You aren’t performing; you’re simply listening to how the sound carries, finding the room's resonance, and settling into the stillness.
It’s a gentle reminder of where our focus actually belongs. In life—and in church life—it’s easy to get consumed by logistics, schedules, and checklists. But worship, like a wedding, isn't about orchestrating a flawless production. It’s about receiving God’s grace, which is already present long before we show up.
Before the chatter begins and the processional starts, that holy pause resets everything. The scramble to travel, the borrowed shoes, and the rental keyboards fade into the background. All that truly matters is the sacred promise Olivia and Jack are about to make before God and their community.
Whether we’re gathered on Sunday morning back home or in Denver this weekend, the invitation is the same: stop rushing, take a breath, and let the room be still. God is already here.
Yours in the stillness,
John