It was chilly in Manhattan but warm inside the Starbucks shop on
51st Street and Broadway, just a skip up from Times Square. Early
November weather in New York City holds only the slightest hint
of the bitter chill of late December and January, but it's enough
to send the masses crowding indoors to vie for available space
and warmth.
For a musician, it's the most lucrative Starbucks location
in the world, I'm told, and consequently, the tips can be substantial
if you play your tunes right. Apparently, we were striking all the
right chords that night, because our basket was almost overflowing.
It was a fun, low-pressure gig—I was playing keyboard
and singing backup for my friend who also added rhythm with an arsenal
of percussion instruments. We mostly did pop songs from the '40s to the
'90s with a few original tunes thrown in. During our emotional rendition
of the classic, "If You Don't Know Me by Now," I noticed a lady sitting in
one of the lounge chairs across from me. She was swaying to the beat and
singing along.
After the tune was over, she approached me. "I apologize
for singing along on that song. Did it bother you?" she asked.
"No," I replied. "We love it when the audience joins in.
Would you like to sing up front on the next selection?"
To my delight, she accepted my invitation.
"Well. … do you know any hymns?"
Hymns? This woman didn't know who she was dealing with.
I cut my teeth on hymns. Before I was even born, I was going to church.
I gave our guest singer a knowing look. "Name one."
"Oh, I don't know. There are so many good ones. You pick one."
"Okay," I replied. "How about 'His Eye is on the Sparrow'?"
Why should I be discouraged?
Why should the shadows come?
I sing because I'm happy;
I sing because I'm free.
For His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me.
Holy moment
When the last note was sung, the applause crescendoed
to a deafening roar that would have rivaled a sold-out crowd at Carnegie
Hall. Embarrassed, the woman tried to shout over the din, "Oh, y'all
go back to your coffee! I didn't come in here to do a concert! I just
came in here to get somethin' to drink, just like you!"
But the ovation continued. I embraced my new friend.
"You, my dear, have made my whole year! That was beautiful!"
"Well, it's funny that you picked that particular hymn," she said.
"Why is that?"
"Well . …" she hesitated again, "that was my daughter's favorite song."
"Really!" I exclaimed.
"Yes," she said, and then grabbed my hands. By this time,
the applause had subsided and it was business as usual. "She was 16.
She died of a brain tumor last week."
I said the first thing that found its way through my stunned silence.
"Are you going to be okay?"
She smiled through tear-filled eyes and squeezed my hands.
"I'm gonna be okay. I've just got to keep trusting the Lord and singing his
songs, and everything's gonna be just fine."
She picked up her bag, gave me her card, and then she was gone.
Was it just a coincidence that we happened to be singing
in that particular coffee shop on that particular November night? Coincidence
that this wonderful lady just happened to walk into that particular shop?
Coincidence that of all the hymns to choose from, I just happened to pick
the very hymn that was the favorite of her daughter, who had died just the week before? I refuse to believe it.
God has been arranging encounters in human history
since the beginning of time, and it's no stretch for me to imagine
that he could reach into a coffee shop in midtown Manhattan and turn
an ordinary gig into a revival. It was a great reminder that if we
keep trusting him and singing his songs, everything's gonna be okay.
A Christian Reader original article.
