Psalm 99: 1-9

C.S. Lewis once wrote that for now we can only tune up our instruments in preparation for the heavenly symphony of praise. But if you’ve ever been to an orchestra concert, then you know that there is something lovely and exciting about even the warm-up time. When you hear that cacophony of sounds, you know you’re getting close. And then, every once in a while in the midst of the jumbled sounds of percussion, woodwinds, strings, and brass, every once in a while someone plays a few measures of the Mozart piece that is coming up. And when you catch those few strains of the real music, your heart skips a beat in anticipation. In this sinful world we can but tune our instruments, but tune them we must. And as we do so, we shout “Hallelujah” to everyone around us, inviting them to join us in our chorus of praise to the Savior, to the God of small things, to the Lord of our everyday lives.

I recently read The Help, by Kathryn Stockett. Perhaps you've seen the movie. It's set in Jackson, Mississippi and focuses on the role of domestic servants who serve wealthy families in the Old South. It's based on a unique plot: A daughter of a plantation family in the 50s wants to be a writer. She grew up being cared for by an older black woman named Constantine, who served as the family's maid for many years. In many ways, Constantine was her surrogate mother. So, she gets the idea of interviewing maids like Constantine and telling their stories of what it's like to raise white children – all the way from changing diapers … to potty training … to learning to read and write … to developing table manners … to going off to college and getting married … only to see them become young adults employing maids of their own. Potentially, the same child you raised could grow up to be your boss. She puts the interviews together in a book, and it becomes the talk of the town. But it turns out to be more than an exposé – it turns out to be a wakeup call and part of the larger catalyst for putting an end to segregation in the Old South, with its separate-but-equal inequities...