Great is thy faithfulness

I was grinning like a Cheshire cat!

Adorned in a long, flowing maroon robe with a decorative yellow stole draped around his neck and shoulders, this blue-eyed brownie was patiently waiting for the soloist to finish singing the first verse of the beloved church hymn in order to join the other chorale vocalists in bellowing out the powerful and uplifting chorus.

With a cue from the choir director — Mr. Benjamin “Ben” Aiken Sr. — the harmony of our collective voices radiated throughout the large auditorium as we invited the Holy Spirit into our midst before the reading of the Holy Scriptures and the impending message by the blond-haired minister, who was sitting on the front pew enjoying the special selection.

Just a few short months ago, I was downstairs in the bowels of the giant edifice, adorned with stained glass windows, singing energetic tunes with all the other elementary school-aged children in junior church; but now I was standing in the choir loft — surrounded by my fellow members of our musical ensemble — on the main platform, overlooking the sanctuary and ministering to the grown-ups.

Caught up in the euphoria of the moment, I could feel goosebumps going up and down my arms.

Standing there on those risers looking out at all the smiling faces in the congregation, it suddenly struck me that growing up is a journey marked by such moments — when the world seems larger, responsibilities heavier, and yet the triumphs are somehow sweeter.

It’s in these unique transitions — from the familiar comforts of childhood to the uncharted territories of adolescence — that we find not only our strength, but also our voice.

Following the mid-week activities — adult Bible study, Missionettes and Royal Rangers — the previous Wednesday evening, Aaron Pellicano and I climbed the back staircase to the upstairs sanctuary prior to joining the other members of the church choir on the platform behind the pulpit in order to practice our offertory anthem of the week for the Sunday morning service.

“Let’s take it from the top,” announced Ben Aiken with an enthusiastic tone in his voice as he walked us through one man’s inspirational vision for the musical number. “After Gloria Arkwright finishes singing the first verse as our featured soloist, I would like everyone to join in on the chorus like a thunderclap ready to rock this church from its foundation.”

“Alright, my talented muse,” he continued while looking over at Ruthie Peffer sitting comfortably behind the piano. “If you would indulge us one more time with your magic fingers flowing effortlessly across those ivory keys, we’ll be ready to welcome the Third Person of the Trinity into our service and minister unto the parishioners throughout the auditorium.”

While we quickly went over the remaining verses of the traditional hymn to make certain everyone knew the ebb and flow of the uplifting song, various church members milled about — talking in low whispers to one another — with some of the more curious ones even stopping to listen to our harmonic sound coming from the platform at the other end of the cavernous hall.

Did you happen to complete your oral book report yet?

“I’m a habitual procrastinator at heart,” lamented Aaron with an exasperated sigh after putting on his winter coat to guard against the freezing temperatures outside. “Since I just finished reading Tom Sawyer earlier this afternoon, I’ll be burning the midnight oil to get it done by tomorrow morning; so, I hope my younger brothers—Saul and Ben—can sleep with the desk lamp on.”

“I’ll have your back in English class, buddy,” I promised with an upbeat attitude when sidestepping several congregants gathered in the center aisle. “If you fall asleep due to a lack of sleep, I’ll be sure to wake you before it’s your turn to stand up in front of the room; but hopefully you won’t grab your books and head for the door thinking the bell rang.”

That would be just my luck!

Laughter echoed throughout the large chamber as he followed his oldest sister Maria out the main entrance of the red-brick church, which was situated at the corner of North Street and Orchard Avenue.

As soon as the minister’s wife released her young scholars from Sunday school class in the “Upper Room” the following Sunday morning, this pair of excited seventh-graders — the black-haired procrastinator and a precocious dimpled lad — traipsed all the way across the balcony prior to descending the stairs next to the nursery.

Dashing through the side foyer with great haste, we trekked up the side aisle near the piano and slipped through the Sunday school office to join several others, who were climbing up the back steps to the choir robe room—a long narrow hallway connected to the pastor’s office on the opposite side, which was directly behind the baptistery.

I never got an opportunity to say what a great job you did on that oral book report the other day — it was absolutely phenomenal.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, my man,” acknowledged the junior high basketball player flashing those pearly whites upon slipping on the loose-fitting cassock over his church clothes. “Considering I ended up pulling an all-nighter, it was a miracle I was able to stay awake through the entire class period; but I went directly to bed after supper and didn’t wake up until Friday morning.”

No wonder you were walking around school all day like a zombie!

Once everyone was lined up accordingly, our energetic vocal troupe marched out to the two sets of risers in front of the baptistery and took our seats before the worship service commenced.

I was as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof when we stood to perform our special song selection.

With our collective voices wafting toward the heavens above, I’m almost proof positive I heard the “thunderclap ready to rock this church from its foundation” which our animated leader mentioned during practice the previous Wednesday; because it definitely felt like the earth was shaking during our Holy Ghost-anointed performance.

Upon exiting the platform and returning our choir paraphernalia to its rightful place, we could still feel the mighty power of God’s Spirit still working in and through the congregation while quietly finding our seats throughout the sanctuary as my father began another one of his inspirational sermons.