By Maggie Morey
“Come, thou fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy grace.”
The first time I went to the symphony, my father took me for my 11th birthday. I was excited, shifting in my seat amongst the babble of voices, and unsure what to expect. Suddenly, a single note was played, and the crowd fell silent. In the wake of voices was a cacophony of sound, each of the instruments on stage meeting or moving around that first piercing note.
Seeing how my eyes widened and I nearly jumped out of my seat, my father leaned over and whispered, “They’re tuning their instruments.” Tuning — ensuring that each instrument shares pitch and frequency, so that melodies and harmonies do not clash but rather embrace one another.
In service today, we will sing “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” When Robert Robinson first penned the words “tune my heart to sing thy grace” in 1757, it was a deeply personal statement. After being sent to apprentice in London and falling into a period of wandering, he found hope in Scripture and community. Just as the tuning of a symphony, the tuning of his life was not done in isolation.
What does it mean to tune our hearts to sing of God’s grace this morning? Maybe, like a young child at the start of the symphony, you are jumping out of your seat at the sound of all that is going on. Or perhaps it is difficult to hear the note that sets the tone. In the cacophony that is the tuning of the symphony, a musician may tune their instrument too high or too low, sharp or flat. As we prepare for worship, perhaps we worry or find our attention drawn to work, school, family. We may dance around hope, the call to love our neighbors, the presence of peace.
As we settle in and breathe deep in this space and time set aside to gather with one another in the presence of the Lord, may we hold on to the knowledge that we are not alone. That as we tune into this time, we do so with God and with one another.