Of course he was speaking about it spiritually, as in, What are you doing for God, the church, the kingdom?

He illustrated what he was talking about by sharing his recent encounter with Paducah’s Symphony Orchestra and how each instrument when combined with all the other instruments produced an awe inspiring performance.

He went on to explain how a single instrument can be pleasing to listen to, yet when played along with all the others it can produce something spectacular.

The same can be said of members of a congregation sharing their talents singularly or as a whole.

He mentioned that tuba players are an exception. No one wants to hear a tuba solo.

As usual I was sitting there taking in his sermon and was thoroughly enthralled until I heard the word tuba. That’s when my mind began to wander a bit. As a buddy of mine used to say, “It always does that sometimes.”

Suddenly, it was 1970 and I was a freshman at The University of Southern Mississippi. I had just checked into my dorm, gone to my assigned room on the fourth floor and met my roommate for the first time.

I was going to major in commercial art and I learned that he was majoring in tuba playing. Yep, that’s right. Tuba playing. And there was a tuba sitting in the corner of the room to prove it.

He was a foot taller than me and bested me by at least seventy-five pounds. We managed to get along, but to say that we bonded right off the bat would have been a stretch.

Have you ever tried studying in the same room where somebody was playing the tuba? It was impossible. But I gritted my teeth and endeavored to persevere.

That was, I endeavored to persevere until he began coming out of the shower every day and tossing his wet towel onto my bed.

I kindly mentioned to him that it wasn’t a nice thing to do, but still he persisted.

I would pick up his wet towel and toss it on the floor beside his bed. He’d growl and pick it up and put on the back of his chair.

This went on for a few weeks. Each time his growl grew a little louder. I have to admit there came a point when I was afraid he was going to pick me up and snap me in half. But an art major has to do what an art major has to do. Endeavor to persevere.

Then one day I returned to my dorm room to find his wet towel lying on my bed. Not only was it lying on my bed, it had soaked through the bedspread all the way down to the mattress.

The time for turning the other cheek was over. His wet cheeks had soaked through to my sheets one time too many.

I looked around the room and began to gather up a few of his belongings. The first thing I shoved down the throat of his tuba was a dirty pair of underwear. That was followed by a tee shirt, a bath cloth, socks and topped off with his wet towel. A hay bailer could not have packed that stuff in there any tighter.

Suddenly, the door flew open and he rushed in, grabbed his tuba and ran back out, “See ya, Algood. I’m late for practice.”

I’ll have to admit that my antiperspirant failed me that afternoon. I was sweating bullets, knowing that as soon as band practice was over I was going to be torn limb from limb.

I was cowering at my desk when he waltzed in a few hours later.

As soon as the door flew open he yelled, “Algood!”

I innocently peered up from my book to see the red faced giant lurking in front of me. By-the-way, it’s true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes just before you are about to die. Mine did.

Then he burst out laughing, “You got me Algood. You got me good.”

He continued, “We were lined up out there on the marching field, ready to march and play when nothing happened. I blew as hard as I could, but not a single note came out.

“The director halted everything and asked me what the problem was. I took off my mouthpiece and checked it. It was fine. I shook my tuba and blew into it again. Nothing.

“Then I reached into the horn and pulled out the towel, the socks, the tee shirt and finally my underwear. Everyone was rolling on the ground laughing.”

Roomy said, “I was mad. Really, really mad. I was embarrassed, humiliated and mad. My first thought was that I was going to kill you when I got back here.”

Then some girl said, “What did you do to tick someone off that bad?”

“That’s when it hit me that I have been a real jerk to you. I deserved it.”

He apologized and meant it. I never had to worry about finding a wet towel, underwear or socks on my bed ever again. We became friends and after he married during his junior year he and his wife asked me over for dinner from time to time.

So, my takeaway from today’s sermon is this; each of us has a talent that we can use for Him. Used individually it can make beautiful music. But when it’s combined with a multitude of fellow believers it can become a glorious symphony to honor Him.

What’s your talent? Are you using it?

I figure my roommate’s talent was tuba playing and forgiveness.

Mine? Well, I can’t say for certain, but I don’t believe it’s packing dirty laundry into a tuba.

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Rick Algood
February 11, 2024