WHAT DO THESE STONES MEAN?”

Joshua 4:7 “These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”

Don’t ever start the Star Spangled Banner in the wrong key! Francis Scott Key would have held his ears the last time I did. On July 27^th, 1990 (the hottest day of the year), I was asked to sing the great song that honors our flag. At the end of a parade commemorating Armistice day, a crowd of several hundred gathered in the driveway of the local VFW hall where speeches were made, and I was called upon to sing the national anthem.

As the first “Oh say” passed through my lips, I knew that I was heading to notes that were an octave out of my range. By the time I arrived at “the rockets red glare,” the veins in my head were “bursting in air.” I was literally screaming to try and reach the high notes. My version sounded a lot like Alfalfa in The Little Rascals. You can only imagine how horrible I sounded and how terrible I felt. After I finished the final line I was glad to be “free” and not quite sure if I was “brave” enough to ever sing our nation’s song in public again.

I tried hard to slip into the crowd unnoticed, hoping to get to my car without crossing paths with a veteran. I just wanted to go home. What happened next renewed my hope that there were better times ahead.

As I hastily made my way to the car, an older man, well into his sixties, laid his hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. As I sheepishly looked up at the tall, gray-haired fellow, he had huge tears in his eyes. He looked down at me and said, “Reverend, I want you to know that was the best I have ever heard anyone sing the national anthem.” What could I say? He was either lying or deaf. In my ears that was the worst I had ever heard anyone sing that powerful song. He said one more thing that remains etched in the granite of my soul. “I fought in the Korean War, and saw many of my fellow soldiers die. Every time I hear those words and see that flag, I cry like a child. You warmed my heart today. Thanks for taking your time and coming to our parade. You sure are a great singer.”

I thanked him, knowing full well that his exposure to great singers was severely limited. As I rode home, I made a pact that I would turn down any future opportunity to do acappella projects. I kept that promise for several years.

It wasn’t until the winter of 1993 that I sang the national anthem again in public. I was standing in the middle of a wrestling mat preparing to officiate a high school wrestling match. The athletic director asked the crowd to rise and honor our country. He pressed the button to play a Whitney Houston C.D., and it just wouldn’t play. He pressed it again and still nothing. You could hear the ripple of nervous laughter roll through the crowd as he said, “Well, I’m not going to sing it. I guess we’ll just have to go without it tonight.”

I had a flashback to that driveway and the encounter with a my tone-deaf friend. My heart said, “You sing it.” Without hesitation I looked at the school official and said, “May I have the microphone? I’ll sing it.” He looked at me and said, “Have at it.” I let it rip. Right key. Right place. Right time. I don’t know whether it was for my reffing or my singing, but from that night on I officiated at least one home match at that school every season.

The sincere words of a tall, gray-haired veteran helped me realize that notes weren’t the only thing that moves a heart. It’s the memories. I gained a new appreciation for those who served this nation, especially the ones who gave their lives. I am forever grateful for the tenderhearted soldier who took his time to mend my mistake and give patriotism a seat in my soul. He helped me understand the statement of the ancients that said, “Tell the next generation what these stones mean.”