The corridor of the old music building was dark, narrow, and long. Well-worn indoor/outdoor carpet of an indistinguishable blue/green masked the popping of the old floor joints as I stepped lightly down the hallway. I was very nervous – and that surprised me – I was rarely nervous about anything.
I paused in front of the last door on the right, took a deep breath, and knocked. The instructor greeted me with mild surprise and invited me in. We exchanged a few “how are you’s” and then – an awkward silence. I cleared my throat and stammered, “I – I’ve come … I – I just wanted to … I finally framed my request and sighed in relief. Sweat was running down the small of my back – sweating in February!
I have no memory of the words that followed. We shook hands, and he opened the door. I moved quickly down the hallway. With a misty eye, the instructor had given his daughter to me. My knees felt weak. On the sidewalk, it occurred to me that he had “committed to me” his most valued possession.
I still strive to prove myself worthy of such a sacred trust. Yet, there is a greater trust that God has placed in us. To us, He has entrusted His message to the world; the only hope of eternal life.
Reposted with permission from onehope.net.