Several years ago, in April of 1997 I believe, I attended one of the Hurting Hearts Need A Helping Hand Tour stops in Bluefield, WV. As so often is the case with concerts in that area of the country, the audience was made up of people from all walks of life. There were just as many people in suits and ties as there were people wearing overalls and John Deere caps. Among those people was an elderly lady who, with the assistance of a walker and a younger woman I assume was her daughter, slowly crossed the auditorium floor to a seat on the last row. Though I don't know what ailments had entered this woman's life, it was painfully obvious to all who saw her that her time with us would soon come to an end. Battles unspoken had taken their toll, leaving lines of worry and sorrow across her face.
But yet, there was a gleam in her eye - the gleam that only comes from peace and contentment. As the program began and the artists gathered together to sing a few of the older songs, those worry lines seem to fade away and a new countenance came across her. For the next two hours, she would, even with genuine discomfort, lift her hands in praise and tears of joy would stream down her cheeks as every song sang by Amy Lambert, Karen Peck & New River, the Pfeifers and Poet Voices seemed to aim themselves directly toward this lady's heart. She was enjoying what she was hearing - and what she was feeling. As I was sitting at the sound and lighting board directly behind the last row, I could hear this lady as she turned to her daughter and said, "This is so wonderful. Can't you just feel His presence?"
For those of you who may not remember the Helping Hands tour, it concluded with an invitation led by Phil Cross. As the invitation began, Phil encouraged any who wanted to pray for any need to join them at the front of the stage. The lady's daughter leaned over to her mother and asked, "Do you want me to go pray for you?" Instead, with an effort that could honestly be called heroic, this lady struggled to her feet and began started towards the stage. Though her daughter protested by claiming she shouldn't make the long walk, the lady turned to her and said, "You know, these people have done so much for me. They've given me so much happiness. I want to pray for them."
Think about that for a minute. Here was a woman who would probably not live to see the first day of that summer, yet she wanted to say a prayer for those who had entertained and ministered to her. She set aside her "self" and worked hard to walk - in pain, no doubt - a hundred or so feet to pray for people she had never met. It's a very humbling thought, isn't it?
With everything that we do in Southern Gospel Music, it can be very easy to forget what this industry is truly about. Sometimes audience members become numbers or just faces that blur from one city to the next. It's too easy just to come into a building, set up, sing, tear down and leave. But behind every face is a heart - and behind every heart is a soul.
We in Southern Gospel Music have an awesome responsibility. We are skilled workers with a tool that will make an eternal difference. Though music will never take the place of God's chosen method of spreading His message (preaching), it is a proven instrument that prepares the heart to receive the message.
I wonder how many times we loose sight of our responsibility in an effort to "sound good?" How many times have we set aside the Great Commission to sell a few hundred more CDs? I wonder if there have been times we've not ministered to those who really need it to "work a better date?"
Please understand I'm not fussing. I'm only asking questions that I've asked of myself. We've all let unimportant details get in the way of significant things on occasion.
But you know, sometimes it takes a lady with a walker to help run the race.
