A couple of Sundays ago we did the Sunday morning service at the Easton, Maine Wesleyan church.  The next day we were contacted by the coordinator for the Easton Heritage Days variety show.  She wanted us to make a guest appearance during their hometown celebration.  Heritage Days was this past week, and the variety show was tonight.

We were given a 20 minute set right after intermission.  I really wanted to do my club routine to Larry Norman's "Why Don't You Look into Jesus".  I only do this routine a few times a year, but it has been getting better as I've learned to compensate for repetitive motion injuries in my left arm.  I was practiced up and ready to do it.

"But just in case'" I reasoned, "I better have a back up plan.  what if the space is limited?  What if my arm suddenly flares up?  What if the heat and humidity makes the plastic clubs too slippery?"

Yet I felt God wanted me to do that routine tonight. "After all," I figured, "the song alone asks a very poignant question, and the whole community will be there.  Or at least, maybe it's God prompting me to do it.  Okay, maybe it's just my own desire to prove I still can do this routine on a regular basis.  

"No, I'm pretty sure I heard from God on this one.  Imagine that song blasting out for the whole community to hear while I juggle an impressively choreographed routine... But just in case, I'll bring my diabolo, too.  It's kind of like David bringing five stones to kill Goliath.  Having back-up stones wasn't a lack of faith, it's called being prepared, right?  Of course, II Samuel 21 tells us Goliath had four brothers, so maybe that's why little Davy had the extra stones.  But then again there's no indication he used them. The giant's brothers were elsewhere.  Okay, that's what I'll do.  Like David, I'll be prepared with extra props that I won't have to use because I'll do my club routine."

So we arrived at the Easton High School gym, and it was hot and muggy.  "No matter," I thought, "I'll loosen up and I'll be fine.  Man these clubs get slippery when it's humid."  Then, on top of that, I noticed an Amish family come in (there are a lot of Amish buying up farm land in northern Maine, and every summer it seems like their community grows.)  "That's just great," I thought, "They'll probably rebuke me for using sorcery."  ( This has happened a few times in our career, most notably by a woman in Dorchester, Massachusetts who was an immigrant from Barbados. That's another story)  "OK. Settle down.  I can't let this distract me. 'God let my set glorify you no matter what, but if it could glorify you through a flawless performance, that'd be fine by me.'"

So we sat through the first half.  There was a pretty good acoustic group that started things off, a bunch of young teens singing songs about things they have yet to actually experience, and a killer saxophone player who was maybe 14.  There were two little boys telling jokes who reminded me of an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" in which the twins tell jokes at their school talent show.  They were young enough that even the corniest jokes were cute.

Then came intermission. 

 Then we were on. 

 I opened with "Hallelujah", and noticed how slippery even the balls were, although the routine was good.  Then Rose astonished the crowd with the linking rings.  Then it was decision time.  I told the guy running sound, "Skip the second song and go to the next one."  I had made my choice.  I was skipping over the club routine for the safer diabolo one.  After a couple more routines our part was over, and I am confident that clubs in such a humid setting would have been a disaster.  

So why, at first, did I think  tonight was the night to do it?  Personal agenda, I guess.  Fear that if I don't do it occasionally I'll never do it again.  Or maybe I would have nailed it in spite of the conditions if I had just taken the risk.  I don't know.  But it's a good thing I wasn't living in ancient Israel.  I'd likely have set out to face Goliath only to turn around and go back to my flock of sheep never knowing if I did the right thing.

In the end, we were well received and I do believe God was glorified through the show.  Besides, a small town crowd like this one probably wouldn't  have appreciated Norman's Skynyrd-esque Jesus rock. 

 Not the Amish family, anyway.