The Parable of the Violin

A wise violin teacher offered to teach any child in his neighborhood to play the violin. He gave any willing student a violin for free. He required no payment. His reward was simply hearing the sweet music of the violin. Any child who came was given a violin and a bow. Then the teacher simply sat back and watched.

Some simply looked at the instrument, lost interest, and walked away. Others experimented. A few had seen people play the violin, and they at least had the idea of tucking it under their chin and drawing the bow across the strings. Others who had never seen a violin before experimented in many ways to try to get the instrument to produce sound. Still, the teacher simply sat and watched each child.

Some would come day after day and try. Some gave up after a few unsuccessful attempts. Others kept trying but became frustrated. Some learned to only pluck the strings and threw the bow away. Others sawed back and forth with the bow on the strings and made terrible screeching sounds. A few who had seen others play knew that they could change the pitch of the sound by placing their fingers on the strings. They experimented more and tried different things. And still the teacher sat and watched and winced from time to time at the horrible noises the children made. Many of the children eventually gave up and did not come back. A few persisted, and some of them figured out how to scratch out simple tunes. They were off-key, raspy, and sometimes hard to bear, but they began to make music of sorts. The dedicated students continued to saw away, and most of them became satisfied with their amateur attempts at making music. They played the same tunes over and over again, never getting any better, never achieving anything approaching real music. And still the teacher sat and watched.

And then one day a new student who had been at it for only a few weeks did something none of the other pupils had ever done. When he could not get the violin to sound the way he wanted, he took the instrument and the bow to the teacher, held them out in front of him and asked, "Would you show me how to hold the bow?" With a burst of delight, the kindly teacher demonstrated the proper technique for holding the bow in the right hand so as to run the horse hairs across the strings at just the right angle. And because the child had asked a question, the teacher also volunteered to show him how to rest the bowl of the violin on his collar bone and place his chin on the chin rest so he could hold the instrument comfortably. Satisfied with the new knowledge, the child return to practicing, and the teacher sat and watch with a happy smile.

The instrument began to produce much more pleasant tones in the hands of the inquisitive child. He began to play a semblance of a simple tune, but he was not happy with the dissonance of the flat and sharp tones when he tried to place his fingers on the strings. And so again he took the violin to the silent teacher, held out the instrument in front of him, and asked the old man to show him where to place his fingers to produce the notes of the song he wanted to play. The teacher patiently showed the child each finger position. And since the child had asked a question, the teach also showed him how to tune each of the strings so that they worked in harmony with each other. Excited by this new knowledge, the child return to practicing, and the teacher sat and watch with a twinkle in his eye.

Soon the child was producing pleasant sounds and playing a recognizable tune. After a few days, the student thought perhaps he could learn to play other tunes. And so he took his violin to the teacher, held the instrument up to the teacher, and asked the kindly man to show him another tune. The teacher taught him a new tune and also showed him techniques for bowing and fingering to enhance the music. Day after day, the student went to the teacher and asked to learn another tune. After he had learned to play a couple of dozen songs, the student asked the teacher, "How do you know so many tunes? And how do you remember them all?" The teacher pulled out from under his chair a portfolio filled with sheet music. The student examined the pages but was unable to make any sense of the scribbles on them. Having learned, however, that asking questions was the source of new knowledge, the student questioned the teacher about the marks on the pages. The teacher patiently pointed out the clefs and the staffs and explained how the notes rising and falling along the lines represented the rising and falling pitches of the tune.  The student studied the music and experimented on his violin. He returned with more questions, and the teacher taught him about rhythms, quarter notes, half notes, whole notes, and eighth notes. He showed the boy how each note on the page represented a finger position on the string. With practice, the student learned to read the music and play the tune as it was written. And the teacher sat and smiled broadly and tapped his foot to the music of the boy's violin.

With great joy the boy learned to play the pieces in the portfolio until he could play them all well. Then one day he went to the teacher and asked, "Where did all of this music come from?" The teacher smiled with great excitement and explained that he had written all of the music in the portfolio. "Is that all the music there is?" the boy asked. The teacher clapped his hands with joy and said that the portfolio he had given the boy was only the beginning of his compositions. Would the boy like to play another portfolio? "Oh, yes, sir!" the student replied enthusiastically. The teacher produced another folder thick with more sheet music from beneath his seat, and the student went back happily to his chair and began to play through each page. And the teacher sat and closed his eyes in delight as he heard the beautiful music flow from the boy's violin.

Once the boy, now become a young man, had mastered the music in the second portfolio, he took his violin again to the teacher, held it up, and asked, "Have you written more music?" The teacher beamed with happiness and said that he writes music every day. He had whole libraries full of music, to which he was constantly adding on a daily basis. The young man considered for a moment and then asked, "Could you teach me how to write my own music?" The teacher pulled the young man to him in a warm embrace, and tears streamed down his cheeks as he told the young man that he would love to teach him to write music.

The young man spent many wonderful, happy hours at the feet of the teacher, who taught him about harmonies, chords, modulation, tension and resolution, crescendos, and on and on. The young man began to compose beautiful music of his own. It was hard work at first, but he became more proficient, and his melodies became more mature and sophisticated. He discovered point and counter-point, themes and quotations, as the music flowed out of him. And the teacher sat and thrilled as he heard the magnificent violin lift grand and moving melodies to heaven.

One day the young man, now a mature virtuoso, arrived at the teacher's studio earlier than usual. He stood in the doorway and listened to another student fumble his way through a barely recognizable rendition of a simple tune, which was full of off-key notes and accompanied by painful screeching and scratching sounds. When he looked around the corner, he saw that the player was not a child at all but a nearly grown man. The man dutifully played his sorry tune over and over for several minutes. Then he put down his violin and, with a look of satisfaction on his face, rose to leave. The virtuoso glanced at the face of the teacher, who had been sitting quietly on his chair. The old man's face was placid, even peaceful, but no beaming smile lit his countenance. After the student left the room, the virtuoso entered and approached the teacher. With questions swirling through his head, he said to his teacher, "That was pathetic. That fellow must be a new student."  No, the teacher replied with a touch of sadness around his eyes. He said the man who had left had been coming to the studio for many years. "But his playing is so, well, raw. Surely it is hard for you to listen to such racket," the accomplished student said. The teacher explained that he was disappointed that the man had made no more progress than he had, but it was the best he could do, and the teacher was just happy that he continued to come to the studio every day. "But surely that man knows that his music is not very good. I mean, he should be able to play so much better than that by now. If he cannot learn, why do you let him continue to come and take up your time?" The teacher explained with great patience that the man was capable of learning, but he had become complacent with what he was able to play. Nevertheless,the man was diligent in coming every day. The teacher held out hope that the man would still improve and would one day play as well as his virtuoso friend. The pupil scratched his head and said, "But you are a magnificent teacher. You can surely teach anyone to play beautifully. I am proof that you are a great teacher. Without your help, I'm sure I would be playing the violin no better than that man. Why do you not teach him like you taught me?"

"Because," the old man said with a tear in his eye, "he never asked me."

We are each a child who has been invited into the music studio of the gospel to learn. The kindly teacher is our Heavenly Father. The violin is the gift of prayer. The question I ask myself is, "When was the last time I asked the teacher to show me more about how to use the gift He has given me?"

The way of the just is uprightness

The prophet Isaiah wrote: "The way of the just is uprightness: thou, most upright, dost weigh the path of the just" (Isaiah 26:7).

A just person is one who is in agreement with morality and goodness. He is one who treats people in a way that is morally good. He is reasonable and proper in the sight of the Lord. He faithfully reproduces and resembles the First and Original One.

The way of uprightness is to always behave in an honest way and conform to high moral standards. We are therefore just (morally good) when we behave according to the high moral standards set by God.

God is the most upright and morally good being in the universe. It is by His high standard that we are judged in our uprightness. More importantly, it is God who judges us. We are not to judge one another, nor are we even to judge ourselves, who are our own worst critics. We can take comfort that our Father, who is also the most loving, kind, merciful and gracious being in the universe, will be our judge, for he will weigh not just our imperfect actions but also the intentions of our hearts.

Our hope can be even greater when we realize that the Father has given all judgment to His Son (see John 5:27). It is even more comforting to know that the One who has paid for our sins and taken upon Himself our griefs, sorrows, and pains – who knows us inside and out better than we know ourselves and loves us in spite of it all – will be our kind and merciful judge.

When I kneel before my Father each day and acknowledge my weaknesses, imperfections and shortcomings, and show Him all my fears and pride and selfishness, I do so in the name of Christ because Christ has promised to deflect the Father's gaze from my wretchedness. Even while I "[smite] upon [my] breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner" (Luke 18:13), the Savior stands by me and pleads my cause. He says in effect, "Father, don't look at this wretched man as he is now. Look at me, and know that I will eventually raise him up to be like me. You are pleased with me. Someday you will be pleased with this one who today is so flawed. Spare him while he learns to come unto me. It is not an easy task for either of us, my brother and me. But he is willing and I am capable, and I will eventually get him fixed up" (see D&C 45:3-5).

O, may my way be uprightness until I become just like my Savior!

The Economies of Scarcity and Abundance: Stress vs. Joy

Two economies operate in the universe: the economy of scarcity, which dominates the world, and the economy of abundance, which dominates heaven.

In the economy of scarcity, there is never enough. We never have enough time, enough money, enough energy, enough resources to do all the good we would like to do. I would like to sign up for every welfare assignment, attend the temple every week, index thousands of names on FamilySearch, research all of my ancestral lines back to Adam, read all the Standard Works of Scripture every year, memorize the Proclamation on the Family and the Testimony of the Living Apostles, visit my home teaching families every time I think about them instead of just once a month, give all my money to the poor, post wonderfully inspiring blog posts every day, take my wife on a date every week, and see my out-of-state grandchildren every couple of months. In the economy of scarcity I know I cannot do every good thing, and so I must prioritize, plan, organize, scrimp and save, and make decisions about what does and doesn't get done and about who I can and cannot help.

I am not left without guidelines, however, about how to prioritize. The prophet Jacob taught the people of Nephi: "Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy. Hearken diligently unto me, and remember the words which I have spoken; and come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted, and let your soul delight in fatness" (2 Nephi 9:51). In the mortal economy of finiteness and scarcity, we must rely on the words of Christ and the Holy Ghost, which "will show [us] all things what [we] should do" (2 Nephi 32:3, 5).

In the celestial economy of abundance, on the other hand, God has an abundance and to spare of all good things. He does not have to scrimp and save to provide blessings. His grace and generosity are not capped by a balance book of debits and credits. He can offer all He has to every one of His children, and yet there is no diminishing of what He can give to any one of them. Thus He can delight to bless His children without the offsetting fear that He will run out of good gifts.

For example, the Lord said to Joseph Smith:  "For thus saith the Lord—I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end" (D&C 76:4).

God does not stress about the economy. He gives joyfully. The sun shines every day, the earth turns, clouds bring rain, breezes refresh, plants grow, flowers bloom, birds sing, babies are born, couples fall in love, beautiful music is composed, lovely poems are written, our bodies heal and repair themselves, and people overcome tremendous odds. God just gives and gives. God is many things, but first and foremost He is, at His very core, gracious and generous, which equates to saying that "God is love" (1 John 4:8).

God's gifts are endless. His grace is sufficient (Ether 12:26-27). My goal is to stop asking for more (the economy of scarcity) and to recognize more fully the multitude of blessings God showers on me continually (the economy of abundance).

God Isn't Fair!

God isn't fair! That is just how it is. Don't get me wrong. He is perfectly just. He just isn't fair. And I have learned to be grateful for this gracious characteristic of the Supreme Being!

A few nights ago Evelyn and I had a lengthy discussion about trials and sacrifice. We had just read this saying by Jesus to his disciples:

And Jesus answered and said, Verily I say unto you, There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel’s, But he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life. (Matt 10:29-30).

Then we read the story of the widow's mite:

And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury: and many that were rich cast in much. And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing. And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury: For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living. (Mark 12:41-44).

We then jumped to the parable of the great supper, which included this statement of the Master:

If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26)

We talked for a while about the great trials and sacrifices of the ancient prophets, the early-day saints in Jerusalem, and the Latter-day Saint pioneers. These people were called upon to truly give their all. They sacrificed their homes, livelihoods, families, wealth, health, and their very lives to answer the call to faith, to come unto the Savior, and to accept the Gospel. These were magnificent, inspiring men and women who exemplified faithfulness, integrity, and courage. They kept their covenants of sacrifice and consecration so they could have a place in the Kingdom of God.

Many make tremendous sacrifices today, as well. Bishops and stake presidents give untold hours of volunteer service during their tenure while they work hard to make a living and care for their families. We recently heard a Palestinian woman from Israel who spoke of risking her life week after week for twelve years to sneak into Jerusalem to attend a little branch of the LDS Church. Church members in developing countries have to walk many miles on hot and dusty roads to fulfill home teaching and visiting teaching assignments. Closer to home, many LDS members outside of Utah have to hold several callings and shoulder great responsibilities to keep their wards and branches functioning. Christians of various denominations in non-Christian countries often suffer terrible persecutions because of their beliefs.

As I pondered the commandment to sacrifice all we have for Christ's sake, and as I thought about those who have given so much to follow Him, I felt a little cheated that so many are called upon to sacrifice far more than I have to sacrifice. I felt guilty, too, that so many have suffered tremendously for their faith, while my life is relatively comfortable and trouble free and has been for a long time.

The Savior said that we must be willing to give up everything, even our lives, to be his disciples. I am asked to give up relatively little in my comfortable and insulated life in Kaysville. Would I accept a martyr's death for the name of Christ? I don't know because I doubt I will be asked to make that choice. Will I leave my family sick and destitute to go serve a mission without purse or scrip for two years in a foreign land? I'll never know because that call will not come to me. Could I pull a handicraft across the plains? Such an adventure does not appear to be in my future.

I don't know anyone who has been asked to leave their homes and travel for years in a trackless desert and live in a tent like Lehi and his family. I know of no one who has been asked to offer his only son as a blood sacrifice on an altar as did Abraham. In my little ward in Kaysville we can afford to have two gospel doctrine teachers and three high priest group instructors because we have an abundance of active members of the Church who are willing to serve. I can walk to my church building in five minutes, although we usually drive for thirty seconds if it is raining or snowing. The nearest LDS temple is twenty minutes away. I do not have to sell all I have and quit my job to make a thousand-mile trip to receive a once-in-a-lifetime experience in the temple.

If impossible sacrifices are the requirements for a place in the kingdom of God, do I have any hope in my ordinary life? Am I missing out on opportunities for blessings because my life is so easy?

I was still thinking about this topic a couple of days later when a scripture came to mind. It is the parable of the laborers, which is found in Matthew 20:1-16:

For the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which went out early in the morning to hire alabourers into his vineyard. And when he had agreed with the labourers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And he went out about the third hour, and saw others standing idle in the marketplace, And said unto them; Go ye also into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right I will give you. And they went their way. Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour, and did likewise. And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle? They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them, Go ye also into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right, that shall ye receive. So when even was come, the lord of the vineyard saith unto his steward, Call the labourers, and give them their hire, beginning from the last unto the first. And when they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny. But when the first came, they supposed that they should have received more; and they likewise received every man a penny. And when they had received it, they murmured against the goodman of the house, Saying, These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast made them equal unto us, which have borne the burden and heat of the day. But he answered one of them, and said, Friend, I do thee no wrong: didst not thou agree with me for a penny? Take that thine is, and go thy way: I will give unto this last, even as unto thee. Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil, because I am good? So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen.

As I pondered on the parable in this scripture passage, I was filled with hope. I am one of those who stand all the day idle in the marketplace. I am willing, and I think I am able, but I am not called. I am not going to be an Abraham, an Enoch, a Peter, an Abinadi, a John the Baptist, a William Tynsdale, a Mother Theresa, a Joseph Smith, a Hyrum Smith, a Spencer W. Kimball, a Neil A. Maxwell, or a Thomas S. Monson. I will not be a bishop, a stake president, a General Authority, a missionary in Africa, or a soldier on a battlefield. It is likely that I will finish out my ordinary and uneventful life and pass quietly into the night when my time is up.

And yet, if I am faithful and true to the few things God asks me to do, I will receive my penny - the very same penny that the martyrs, prophets, and saints of old receive.  God is no respecter of persons, and He will not punish me for having been born in a time and place of prosperity and peace any more than He will punish the wretched soul who was born in the dark ages or in the Amazon jungle where he had no hope of hearing the Gospel.

I conclude that I need to trust God more. He has a plan for me, and that plan is for my salvation and exaltation. He will ensure that I have every trial and sacrifice necessary to take me to that goal. I should not worry about not having enough hard times and wilderness experiences. Perhaps I don't need a handcart challenge to bring me to the Savior. God will give me what I need, and I am content with that knowledge.

God loves me so much that he is willing to pay me the same penny as the martyrs and the pioneers and the apostles and prophets. It is totally unfair for me to receive the same crown as Abraham, Noah, Paul, Nephi, Alma, Moroni, Joseph Smith, Jeffrey R. Holland, Thomas S. Monson. Yet that is exactly what God promises. Even those of us who live ordinary lives, perform no heroic deeds, and suffer no destructive deprivation for the Gospel's sake have the promise of eternal life as joint heirs with Christ (see Romans 8:17).

God loves me that much! He surely loves everyone with a love that passes understanding. I certainly do not understand it, but I am profoundly grateful for that love. "Oh, it is wonderful that He should care for me... Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!" (see "I Stand All Amazed", 93, Hymns).

Living With Dying

My 93-year-old mother-in-law is dying. Well, actually, we are all dying, just in different ways and at different paces. For Mary Fiero the process happens to be more evident and advanced than my own. The inevitable is, nevertheless, unavoidable. To get the most we can from this life, we ought not to shy away from its ending. To avert our eyes at what we think is unpleasant is perhaps to miss a miracle and a marvelous blessing.

Unbeknownst to herself or anyone else, Mary fractured her ankle a while ago. The fracture became infected. When she could no longer walk because of the pain and swelling, she was transported to the hospital, from which she was transferred to a sub-acute rehab facility, and finally she has landed in a skilled nursing facility, where we expect she will live out the rest of her days.

I’m driving my wife, Evelyn, to Long Beach on Saturday. I will then fly back home so I can attend to the daily necessities of making a living while she stays at her mother's house and helps her brothers go through the house to get it ready to put on the market. And of course she will spend time with her mother. It is impossible to predict at this point what is going to happen. It seems unlikely that Mary will recover and come home, but her passing is not necessarily imminent, either. It is liable to be a long, slow process. We need to be prepared not only for the inevitable, but for a protracted vigil with many twists and turns and ups and downs.

This is the time in life when the Gospel of Jesus Christ means the most. Life comes into perspective, priorities get aligned, and the true values of family and love take center stage. The daily trials and troubles of living mortal life in a fallen world lose a little of their urgency when you are close to someone from whom those troubles slip so easily and quietly away.

Where do we look for solace when we face our endings? It is certainly not in the stuff we leave behind. We can look for meaning in the lives we have touched, the people we have helped, the children we have raised, the friends we have comforted, the less fortunate we have lifted, the needy we have served. But for me, even that is not enough. The people we leave behind are also mortal and will someday be gone. Suffering and sorrow, joy and pleasure are all temporary in this world. In the final analysis, they have no meaning if all there is, is this life and nothing more.

Thank God for Jesus Christ. He not only taught but proved with infallible witness that this life is not all there is. Hope is in Christ. Life is in Christ. Joy is in Christ. He is the Light, the Life and the Way. Christ promises that we will live forever, and he backs up his promise with his own resurrection. That which he did for himself he promises to do for everyone else.

The comfort in the doctrine of Christ is not that I will live forever, but that we will live forever. Those lives I have touched and helped and raised and comforted and lifted and served will not be obliterated. They will go on, as I will go on, because of a merciful, loving, living, joyful, all-powerful, all-knowing God and His Son, whom He sent as a sign and a beacon to all of His children. Hundreds saw the resurrected Christ in Jerusalem. Thousands saw him and touched his hands and feet in ancient America. Men and women in our day have seen him and talked with him. Fifteen men stand as living witnesses of the Living Christ today. God does not abandon us or leave us comfortless.

Christ is the Good News. Everyone who wants to be saved will be saved in a kingdom of glory. God really does intend to save every one of His children who want to be saved, which is pretty much all of us. Not everyone wants to be exalted – at least not enough to humble himself and repent and come to Christ for the full measure of the power of His Atonement – but everyone will have as much light and glory and joy for eternity as he truly wants and is willing to accept. That is God’s promise through His Son.

I know these things are true just as surely as I know that I live today, as surely as I see the sun and breathe the air around me, as surely as I feel the ground beneath my feet and earth’s gravity holding me in place. For Christ is the Light of the world, the Life of the world, the Rock of salvation, and the Anchor of my soul.

For Mary Fiero, who has lived a good life, who raised good children and grandchildren, who loved many more children whom she cared for in her home for thirty years, who served many in her church and in her neighborhood, who wore out her life doing the very best she knew how to do, I have great hope. I pray for her, that the days she has left will be peaceful. I pray for all who will care for her and sit with her and reminisce with her that they may be compassionate and kind and full of joy. May the miracle of the life she is leaving behind be but a dim reflection of the miracle of the new life she is entering.

May God help me to see myself in her. May my compass be free from the static of the world. May I see others for who they really are - children of God, very old and valiant spirits in frail and temporary shells. May I remember who I am. May we all remember and thank God.

Gracious Service Is No Accident

“Service does not happen by accident,” a wise man once said. I have pondered on that simple statement and how it applies to me. As I pondered, I was reminded of a recent incident that has troubled me because I did not handle it well at the time and have wondered how I might have done better.

I was entering Smith’s grocery store to pick up a prescription. It was after work, and I was anxious to complete my errand and get home. It was cold and dark, and the parking lot was slushy. Just as I walked in the door, my attention was drawn to a child who was crying and fussing. I looked up to see a mother slinging the whining child onto her back. The boy, who was about four years old, did not have any shoes on, and he was obviously unhappy about having to go outside in the cold. Using one hand the support the boy on her back, she reached back with her other hand and began to drag the shopping cart behind her. Her expression was resolute as she began to trudge towards the door.

All of this occurred in a matter of a couple of seconds. The little drama caught me by surprise. I stopped and watched the mother start to pull the cart towards the door. In that instant, the thought came to me that I should help her. So far so good – I saw a person in distress and I thought I should help. But then I started to analyze the situation.

I looked at the cart, which was not overly full, and I wondered why she didn’t just set the kid in the cart. I looked at the boy’s feet and wondered where his shoes were and why he would be barefoot on such a cold night. I saw the cart starting to roll, and I wondered if the woman had the strength to pull it the whole way.

I considered whether I should offer to push the cart or carry the child. If I offered to push the cart, would the woman think I was trying to steal her groceries? If I offered to carry the child, would she think I was a kidnapper? If I took the child, would he be afraid of a stranger and make a big scene?

Paralyzed by all of this analysis, I watched the woman pull the cart through the doors and out into the cold. I decided that she was going to make it on her own and didn’t need my help, so I turned to proceed into the store. But then the thought came again that I should help. I stopped again and turned around. By now the woman, the boy, and the cart had disappeared into the dark parking lot. I figured they were far enough along that I wouldn’t be able to catch up with them, so again I dropped the thought and headed to the pharmacy to complete my business and go home.

As I rehearse this incident in my memory, I recognize that my talent to analyze and think before I act is counterproductive in a situation that requires immediate and spontaneous reaction. I know many who would have responded instantly to the situation without analyzing exactly how they should help or how the offer to help would be received. They would have just jumped in and figured out the details as they went along.

My talent is not spontaneity. I believe, however, that I can develop that talent. The key for me to be more spontaneous goes back to the statement: “Service does not happen by accident.” I need to be prepared to be spontaneous. It is a fascinating paradox. The definition of spontaneous is to do something without forethought. Yet because of who I am, I have to plan to be spontaneous.

I will share a secret about being me that is not particularly attractive but is nonetheless the truth. In a spontaneous social situation, such as getting on a bus, entering a building, crossing the street, standing in line at the checkout stand, crossing a crowded room, and a million other places where I encounter strangers, people are not people to me, they are obstacles. I am not oblivious to people. In fact, I am very much aware of my surroundings - but not in a personal way. My objective in these situations is to get to my destination and accomplish my goal without annoying anyone. It is a game. How can I pass unnoticed through a mass of randomly moving bodies without bumping, jostling or startling the objects that stand between me and my goal? It is not a Jedi mind trick. I just assume that others do not want to be bothered as they go about their business anymore than I want to be interrupted in arriving at my destination.

As a result, however, I miss many opportunities for spontaneous service. The objects I so carefully avoid are humans, at least a few of which could use a friendly greeting, a warm smile, or just an acknowledgment of their existence. I am surrounded by opportunities to serve and lift and help, even in tiny ways, and I miss them constantly.

Instead of being focused solely on my task and goal, which is a vital talent in the work I do, I need to be open to the people around me when I am in a social situation. I have to think in advance that I might encounter someone who needs help or a greeting or even just a friendly smile as I move among people.  Then I need to practice this new behavior until it becomes automatic. Just like any other talent, the talent of service must be practiced. I may have the greatest musical ear in the world and phenomenal potential to play the violin like Itzhak Perlman. But if I never pick up the violin, never take a lesson, and never practice, my talent is useless and will eventually disappear.

The ability to serve is a gift. God gives gifts when we ask Him. He will not, however, give a gift to one whom he knows will not enlarge it through practice. Opportunities to serve are also gifts, but they are also invitations to practice. With daily practice, I can get better at anything, whether it is writing, or music, or service. Clear writing, beautiful music, and gracious service are not accidents.