The piano has always been played in my home. My mother plays the piano. I play the piano. As long as I’ve been alive, piano music has been heard in my house. So, to me, it was a natural belief that my children would play the piano. Why wouldn’t they?

My older son took to the piano right away, just as he was expected to do. And he’s pretty good. He plays at home, and he plays in two jazz bands at school. He was one of just a small handful of sixth graders to make it into the big band at his middle school. He made the cut on both his trumpet and piano, but his bread and butter? The instrument that got him in? Most likely, the piano.

My younger son is also musical. He has always loved to sing. So I thought the piano would be perfect for him – a great instrument to support his singing.

He hates it.

For three years, he has been taking piano lessons and hating every minute of them. My mother had the same experience with my brother. But after 6 months, when my brother still could not identify middle C, she gave up.

I would not give up.

In weeks when I made the time to sit next to my child for every painful note of practice, he would make it to his lesson reasonably prepared, both of us bearing the scars of the week. In weeks when I just did not have that extra ounce of energy to fight, he showed up at his lesson woefully unprepared. The teacher would give us a speech about the importance of practice. I would hang my head in shame. The boy didn’t care.

“I HATE piano.”

“Why?”

“It’s stupid.”

On to the next week.

This year, the boy is in 4^th grade and is in band for the first time, under a teacher who has a way of getting kids really excited about music. The school has fourth and fifth grade bands, but it also has a blues band, which is by invite only. As soon as the teacher thinks a student is proficient enough on his or her instrument, he invites the student into the blues band. When my older son was in fourth grade, he was one of the first fourth graders to be invited into blues band, just after Christmas. He quickly became his music teacher’s “go to” guy on trumpet and…piano.

So imagine my surprise, when my younger son came home more than a month before Christmas this year, with the exciting news that he had been invited into the blues band. He was bursting with pride. I was totally flummoxed.

“Really? In October? You’ve only been in band for a month. You’ve been invited into blues band? On what instrument?”

“Vocals,” he grinned, “My teacher wants me to sing.”

I sat down to write a note to the teacher that night:

“Thank you, Mr. C, for this opportunity for my little guy. You just have no idea what it means to him…the younger brother who until now has been all too accustomed to walking in his older brother’s shadow.”

Here’s what Mr. C wrote back:

“Hi Rachel, your younger son has a very different skill set from his brother. There is no need for him to walk in anybody’s shadow.”

I was chastened.

That statement hit me hard. It hit me so hard because with two simple sentences, Mr. C made me face my assumption that because he is younger and because he does not excel in the same areas in which his older brother excels, my younger son is destined to always be walking in his brother’s shadow. This teacher, after one month with my son, saw something that I, his mother, could not see.

I asked my son, later on, if he feels like he walks in his brother’s shadow. He said, “No. Why would I feel like that? But you know what does annoy me? That I never get to do anything first. He gets all the ‘firsts.’”

That insight also hit me hard. The only reason my son would feel like his older brother gets all the “firsts,” is because I make him do all the things his brother does. I’m the one placing my younger son in his older brother’s shadow.

A few days later, I walked by the music room. My older son was on the piano, playing a piece he had written for the jazz band. My younger son was on the drum set, playing the drum part perfectly. My blind eyes were finally opened to see. That boy never voluntarily touches the piano, but he’s always on the drums.

I could not believe that I was hearing myself say this, but I asked, “Hey buddy…instead of piano lessons, would you rather take lessons on drums?”

“I would love that.”

Drum lessons for my little guy. When I finally get them organized, they will be his first “first.”

That small interaction between my son, his teacher, and me taught me a parenting lesson. But it also opened my eyes to the encouragement we sometimes need as adults, even in church. Because I bet there are times when, spiritually, we find ourselves feeling like we’re walking in someone else’s shadow.

We see people involved in outreach and think, “I could never do that.” Or we hear the heartfelt prayers of someone who seems to be always on her knees and wonder if we’ll ever be able to pray like that. Maybe someone sitting in the pew next to us seems so “spiritual” or someone else always seems to know the Bible so well, much more than we do. It can be intimidating. So rather than jump into the life of the church, we hold back. So many other people seem to have all the knowledge and all the insight and all the talent. What could we possibly have to offer that they don’t already have?

There is a learning process to faith. Knowledge comes with time and study. It is true that in some areas of life, my older son will be ahead of his younger brother for a long time. His sixth grade math is more advanced than his younger brother’s fourth grade math. That’s just how the learning process goes. In the same way, maturity in our faith is a process, and some people are further down the road than others simply because they started earlier or have devoted more time to it.

But we all also have our own unique skill sets, given to us by God. Just like my older son is a pianist and my younger son is a singer, the person next to you at church may have a special connection with children, but you may have that special touch with people walking through grief. Or someone else might be great at coming up with ideas for programs, but you might be especially good at running them. The learning and maturing process in our faith takes time, but right now, even today, something in the way God made you sets you apart as his unique creation with a unique purpose in his family. Imagine him saying to you, “You have a very different skill set than the person sitting next to you. You don’t have to walk in anyone’s shadow.”

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work. (1 Corinthians 12:4-6, NIV)

Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity. (1 Timothy 4:12, NIV)

Whether you are young in years, or young in your faith, you have been uniquely gifted by God. It’s not what you know, but how you live…serving God in the way that he has uniquely gifted you to serve, setting an example for all. You, even you, can be a shining example of God’s love…a light that dispels any hint of a shadow. Is it time to stop living in one?