I had tears running down my face and I couldn't sing. This used to happen a lot and I'd forgotten it. I tilted my head away from the microphone in that angled way that let me keep playing the chords I needed. After a while playing the piano, you get to feel like your hands are sort of disconnected from you, almost operating subconsciously. While the rest of me was quietly bawling, my fingers were hard at work at the keys.
This was the day I felt alive again.
I'd received a text message early this morning. As my room glowed an unnatural blue, I reached across and glared at my phone:
Hey Matt, Ruth not well and going to the doctors, could you lead worship?
I was expecting today to be less of a deep-end to be honest. The plan was that Ruth was going to lead, Rory would be there on guitar and I'd play keys. I was alright with that. After all, I've not been part of the worship band for eighteen months; I was hoping for a gentle reintroduction, with someone else in charge. Now, Ruth (our team leader) was out of action and it was apparently down to me.
Oh! I'm sorry to hear that! Hope she's OK. Yep, I can cover. Catch you later.
I've often thought that there's a special kind of grace for those short-notice moments. You can prepare for weeks in advance and not be as blessed as you can when you find out it's the eleventh hour and you're up next. I think we must have had a bucket-load of Short Notice Grace from God today, because the little bit of musical worship we did went really well. And I was in tears. That's the thing about God - he's always better than you could ever have imagined.
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