William Harris is a big name in Anglican church music. He was a well-known composer and conductor. In 1933 he was appointed at St. George’s Chapel. During that time, he conducted at two coronations. One in 1937 for King George VI, and then for his daughter, Queen Elisabeth in 1953. The world would not see another coronation until 2023, the most recent being for King Charles. Whenever there are these high-profile services like the funeral of Diana or for a coronation, I always sympathize with the organist and the director. It seems there would be lots of pressure when “all eyes” are on you.

I remember being at a national organist’s convention in New York City years ago. At one of the performances, which were always given by the best organists in the country, a snooty wanna-be in the audience had his sheet music at the performance. He was following along, marking in red pencil the mistakes and questionable rhythms!

We never know what it’s like to have “all eyes” upon us. That’s because when you’re in it, you don’t have time to think about that nonsense. I remember having to play for a “high-pressure” funeral once. My best friend, who passed away five years ago, was a prominent cathedral musician and high school choral director in Baton Rouge. He had held both positions for more than 35 years, and the turnout at the funeral was massive. It was also broadcast on the local diocesan TV station. Every organist and choral director within a 50-mile radius was there. I was asked to play and direct. Not only was I grief-stricken, but I was experiencing that “all-eyes-upon-me” syndrome.

I was scared. I was scared I’d break down and fall apart. At the start of the service, I was to play a very difficult Bach piece. Stomach in my throat and heart pounding in my head – the opening remarks were a blur. Right as my fingers hit the keys, however, I was swept up into the most enrapturing bliss. It was liberating. In the moment of impact, there are no more eyes upon you, and the so-called pressure is relieved. There is a complete merger of time, space, and mental bandwidth. It’s an indescribable oneness that only happens when you face fear and walk right into it. You realize you’re walking into a ghost. Liberation comes not conceptually, but experientially. Facing the “high pressure” and walking into the fire was the only way my egoic fears would be consumed.

From anticipation to the precise moment of impact, God comes through, and not a second sooner or later. It’s perfect timing, and it’s always there. When I began to play, the fear vanished, and I was no longer in need. The spotlight of “all eyes upon me” became the warm glow of God’s Eyes looking through mine. That’s what this anthem shows us, that there is no lack in the face of fear because as you approach, you learn fear has no face.

I once heard that death is like taking off a tight shoe. When you’re scared to death, walk into the tomb, and put your feet up. The pressure of scrutiny is only in concept. In due season, when the music starts, you’ll have what you need. The season of fear is later – it is distracting, enslaving, and anticipatory. The season of God is now – it is immersive, freeing, and experiential.  Soli Deo Gloria!