Jazz Piano in a Presbyterian Church

There's a Presbyterian church in downtown Sacramento. It's an old building, large and modestly ornate. They have a little atrium courtyard that I go to and sit during my lunchtime when the weather is nice. They have a few small trees, some flowers, and large paving stones as the flooring. A small fountain helps drowned out the city sound effects. It's a beautiful sanctuary on a summer day.

They also have a small chapel that they leave open during business hours. Anyone can come in for prayer or meditation or curiosity. It's a fair-sized room with old wooden pews and worn hymnals in the racks. They have some stained glass windows, candle wall sconces, and wagon wheel overhead lighting. All electric now, of course, but my romantic side wants to believe they have been modernized from actual candle holder days. It's typically quiet in the chapel, maybe a few office workers dropping in and out on their lunch hour.

The other day I was needing a little getaway to break up my work day and I started daydreaming about the chapel. I had been reading about how God is the Initiator in our relationship. I was thinking about how when I even think of God it's because He's calling to me first. So I was looking forward to the getaway and even passed up a lunch invitation.

The church is only a few blocks from my office, maybe a 5-minute walk. I got to the chapel door and I could hear music. Inside it was warm and dry, a welcome contrast to the rain outside. There was a black man sitting at the piano. He was probably in his mid 60s. He didn't look up when I came in, he kept on playing. He was playing with his eyes closed, as if he were playing from somewhere deeper than memory. It was Jazz. Beautiful, smooth, classical jazz piano. In a Presbyterian church.

I took a seat in the pew and was caught up in the transcendent worship of this jazz pianist. Witness to this moment of beauty. He played song after song as I sat and offered my own prayers and praises.

The chiming of the church bells always comes too soon when it signals time to return to the office. I didn't want to interrupt this man, but I didn't want to leave without saying thank you. I had just heard a sermon on the value and importance of thankfulness. I was truly thankful for these moments of bliss and I didn't want this man to miss out on that, especially since he played such a big part in it.

I approached him during a break in his playing. I said, "Thank you for your beautiful music and allowing me to share in this worship." He looked up and said he didn't have a piano where he lived and he comes there to play. He noticed I had come there to meditate and he had interrupted that and he was sorry.

No, no, I assured him, this was definitely my lucky day.