We own a Mason and Hamlin grand piano. It is 90 years old, with many scratches and injuries to the finish. But the make is an excellent one, on par with a Steinway. A friend who tuned, repaired and maintained all the pianos for BYU was able to find this one for us 30 years ago, and rebuilt the interior so the quality of sound and touch is gorgeous. We feel fortunate to be able to have such a fine instrument.

Some years ago, I hired a repairman to work on it. Relatives had been visiting, and their children had dropped heavy items into it, damaging some keys. Phil, the repairman, expressed appreciation for the quality of the piano, and carefully dismantled the keyboard. I watched as he pulled out the sections, gradually separating the parts to get to the broken mechanism. I was surprised to see that the workings were comprised of finely carved wooden pieces that fit together in intricate ways, each piece causing the next to move and adjust with the slightest variation of pressure.

I commented to Phil how surprised I was to see this fine workmanship in the pieces of the piano that were never seen, yet were the reason for the beautiful sound this instrument made.

He responded with an almost reverent tone, saying that a well-made piano is a piece of art. He showed me how all of these pieces of carved wood fit together, even with tiny wood pins, and the way they could respond to the different touch and movement of the pianist’s fingers on the keys.

Then he said something that really stayed with me.

“This is a real piano. It doesn’t matter how the finish has been scratched and damaged. The inside is beautifully made, and the workings will create beautiful sound. Too many people just get a P.S.O. – a piano-shaped-object. They get something that is shiny and fancy looking, and it is the correct shape for a piano. But they are often made with inexpensive materials in a climate and altitude that is nothing like it is here. Then they are shipped in and sold on clearance so people can put them in their living room in front of their picture windows so they look like they have a nice piano where everyone can see it and admire it. But no matter how shiny and pretty it looks, the insides are not well made, or are made of materials that can’t adjust to different climate and pressure. People have me come to tune it and expect me to make it sound better. But no amount of tuning will make the inner workings create a sound that matches the shiny finish. The inside does not match the outside, and it is not a real piano. It is only a piano-shaped-object. It is taking up space, and pretending to be something it is not. It will never inspire or move people with the glorious sounds that can come from a finely made piano like yours.”

I have often thought of this in the decades since then. Mostly as a reminder to myself. When am I someone who is more focused on appearing to be something, but my thoughts, my heart is not even close to that.

When am I being a mother shaped object – more concerned with looking like I am being a good mom than I am with creating a world where my children can live deeply and thrive?

When am I being a pioneer shaped object – dressing up or looking the part of a ninth generation mormon for a holiday that denies the blood and sins of my ancestors, when I might not be willing to step out into the unknown when it is not convenient or easy or scripted. When I am not willing to take countless steps needed to confront and own what is not working in this world, and seek and create a new world where all can belong.

When am I being a Mormon shaped object – more worried about appearing to accomplish the “checklist” of correct actions, and having the “right” kind of family and home than I am with living the core essence, the most inspiring and compelling aspects of the restoration gospel – that of bearing each other’s burdens that they may be light, mourning with those that mourn, never abusing influence or power, and being present to each moment being another step on this incomprehensible forever journey of one-ness with divine beings with whom I have co-existed, and with whom I will co-exist, forever?

More than anything else, when am I being a Christian shaped object – more focused on only serving the “right” people in the “right” way than I am on learning to breathe each breath in the awareness that every thought, every action, every moment is an opportunity to be present to the presence of God in every being, as the least of these? When am I waiting to be assigned, or called and told by someone or something else –  how, when, where, and whom to offer my time, talents, and all God’s blessings…while there are those hungry and lonely and outcast everywhere, pleading, crying out in pain and need?

When am I willing to see that God does not weep just because someone thinks, speaks, looks, believes, loves, exists different than myself. God weeps when Their children hate, hurt and kill each other.

The term “Christian” has been used as a weapon to justify hating, hurting and killing for as long as the term has existed.

And, no, this is not a Christian problem. It is a human problem. Humans will weaponize any word that they think will help them insist they are right and others are wrong.

Right now, any rhetoric that uses this word “Christian” to justify controlling and condemning others whose appearance, thoughts, choices, circumstances, beliefs, or existence is different from one’s own, while claiming an inherent right as a Christian to do so – that is a hard core level of being a Christian shaped object.

Anyone claiming the name “Christian” while doing anything that denies or diminishes the existence and connection we all share, does not have inner workings that sing the song of redeeming love.

Someone doing so might be able to pull off an appearance, a look of being shiny and happy and saying the right words and claiming the authority to declare who is in and who is out.

Someone might be able to convince people, as they stand at their lecturn, or podium, or court, or high office, or scripted video, and demand, or preach, or insist they have the authority to say who can and who cannot exist and breathe.

But at most, they are taking up space and making noise that does not have the power to inspire or change hearts.

The terrible thing is, in the hollow, tinkling noise they make, fearful minds react with harmful actions.

And many hearts die, pierced with deep wounds.

God weeps.

I cannot tell someone to be anything, or to not be anything.

I cannot demand that evil not exist, that harmful words and actions not occur.

I can only do what I can do.

From the guidance of scripture, where God tells us that we cannot destroy evil, we can only overcome it with good – to the guidance of the deep moments with God in any way They are with me, and They tell me there is nothing to fix, there is only connection and love – I seek to set aside the constant need to appear in the happy, shiny shape. I seek to find the working parts of God in me.

No longer a Christian shaped object, but a being that exists in connection to all.

I think of the countless hours, and years my children spent playing scales on our piano which had a chipped and scratched surface, but exquisite inner workings – and the glorious music they learned to play on it.

This is a lifelong practice, being more than an object that is only focused on appearance.

Sometimes, the practice is easy.

The God in me sees the God in you.

Sometimes, it is a gut-wrenching wrestle.

The God in me.

The God in me sees.

Sees the God in you.

Sometimes, the practice takes everything…takes me to the edge and I don’t think I can breathe.

The God in me.

God.

God in me.

Sees the God.

God in you.

Sees God.

In you.

God in you.

Me.

You.

God.

Sees.

God.