Last weekend I had a small part in the world premier of a musical entitled the Bus Stop Atheist.  This play was written by a good friend of mine named Alan Bean.  Alan and I have done performances at church, youth detention centers, missions trips to Appalachia, and even a local grocery store.  But being part of this production, with a cast and crew of approximately 100 performed in a beautiful, professional theatre, was a new experience.

That said, somewhere during the two nights of full rehearsals at Merrill Hall, with all the down time I had, I probably had too much time to think about the production.  Alan and I, as good friends as we are, are very different in many ways.  Alan is no slave to the clock.  This play was almost a three hour production.  On the other hand, I have tried to apply the wisdom of dancer Fred Astaire, who said, "Rehearse until it's perfect, then cut two minutes."  Shorter is better.  Although Alan is a dear brother in the Lord, we also differ in theology in places, especially eschatology.  An emphasis on the imminent return of Jesus is not something I would have put into a show.  There may have been moments where I may have hyper-focused on these differences.  Yeah, there was.

But during my hours of waiting, the Lord reminded me that we don't all need to like the same things, and, after the first show, it was clear, that many people loved what Alan had created.  And, as hard as it is for me to believe, not everyone likes "Blue Like Jazz", or the music of Ladysmith Black Mambazo like I do.  Some might not even appreciate juggling!  A show that runs a little long is hardly a valid complaint.

This internal conflict resolved, I enjoyed the evenings at Merrill.  During the second show, Saturday evening, I decided I would ad lib an appearance in a song I was not scheduled to be part of.  I deserve a little more stage time. In the scene, the actors were to joyfully and spontaneously dance unchoreographed.  It was a perfect scene for a townsperson to come out and juggle again.  But as I got in position to make my unannounced entrance, I noticed the stage manager - a small middle aged lady - struggling to hold a ladder for an "angel" who was looking onto the scene from above.  "Would you like me to do that?" I asked.

"Yes, please!  would you do it again tomorrow night, too?"  Of course I said yes, and never took the chance to increase my time on stage.

In fact, because I had so much down time, I was asked to help with several stage crew type tasks.  It was fun, and I saw that I don't have to be the one on stage to make a contribution.  Somewhere in my mind, it made me think of my dad.  He was always willing to help out in ways that didn't draw attention to his contribution.  It made me proud to think of myself as being like him in this way.

As I look ahead to a more typical venue this coming weekend - the Veteran's Hospital in Augusta - I hope these lessons can be retained.