An Audience Member

For my 24th Birthday two of my Irish roommates took me to hear the virtuoso violinist Benjamin Schmid play Concerto No. 1 by Szmanowski. Our front row seats were almost too close to the Dublin Symphony, if that is possible. As we craned our necks upwards, practically staring up into Schmid’s very nostrils, we witnessed Szmanowski played with zest and precision! Even though my roommates and I were practically sitting at the violinist’s feet, he was oblivious to our presence. He knew we were there collectively, the several hundred “we”, but Schmid could have cared less if the three of us were absent from the concert hall that night.
Or did our presence make a difference to this virtuoso? Come to think of it, we were well behaved audience members. We were not heckling or pummeling rotten fruit at him. We were there to support his playing, and did our best to avoid hindering the fire of his art. In a way, our presence DID matter.
There are many facets to being an audience member. When I was visiting my friend Jess in Columbia, I had the privilege of watching her lead a girl to Christ. Because of the language barrier I was unable to understand every word that was being said, and unable to fully take part in what was happening, but I understood what took place. In a small sense, I got to be part of the event. I witnessed God in action; changing a life; snatching a soul from the damnation of hell.
Several weeks ago I found myself at the doorstep of a woman in her 40s, asking her where she thought she would spend eternity when she died. I was scared, but I got to witness a person who was tender to the gospel, and who readily grasped hold of Christ. God had prepared this woman’s heart before I (and the two other people I was with) had timidly knocked on her door. As I think about this recent experience, I again find myself in the audience seat, and it occurs to me that someone greater than Schmid is playing the tune.