My church had an organ

I grew up in a church with an organ. That is an old piano looking instrument that one person could play with their hands and feet. This was also a time when you went to church on Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. The church I grew up in had an amazing organ player (would that be an "organizer"). His name was John; he was arguably the best organ player in the state of Indiana, if not the world, as far as I knew.

Every once in a while on a Sunday night, there would be no sermon. The worship leader would just stand up behind the pulpit while John was at the helm behind the organ. The congregation would have hymnals in hand and shout out a number. John, in all his splendor, would immediately begin playing the requested hymn. The worship pastor would wave his hands in direction. That would be the service for the evening. We'd sing hymns for the evening in awe of God and John as well.

The last few days I have been stricken by two different hymns I am pretty sure I'd request if I were back at that church with Organ John nights.




These two hymns have been ravishing my heart the last few days. I am amazed by the words written by people who have obviously experienced Jesus and gone forward to flesh out that experience on paper. These hymns have resonated within my heart as well. Call the hymns stale if you wish, but in many of them there is eternal refreshing experiences of Abba.