RECENTLY, I had a singing gig in another city. Not long before the performance, my accompanist called to tell me that he'd prefer it if I chose a different piece of music. The accompaniment was difficult, and he said there hadn't been enough time set aside to practice.
My initial response to his call was to feel the hairs bristling on my neck. Nevertheless, I'd been endeavoring for a while to replace "reaction" with "action"—to respond with Christly love, not anger or annoyance, even when a situation or person rubbed me the wrong way. So I realized very quickly that I had a clear-cut choice: I could either be angry, self-righteous, and basically unhappy, or I could love this person and respond compassionately. I sensed my accompanist felt burdened by too much work, and I genuinely wanted to help lift this weight from his shoulders.
Impelled by this desire, I immediately sat down to write an e-mail. In it, I told him how much I loved and respected his abilities as a musician. In the past, I'd been greatly moved by the music we'd made together, and I told him how grateful I was for the wonderful friendship that had developed during our collaborations.
