The Piano Tuner Who Learned to Listen

In 1936, a young apprentice named William Braid White sat in a concert hall in Chicago, convinced the Steinway on stage was perfectly tuned. His mentor, an old German tuner named Klaus, shook his head. "Again," Klaus said. William struck the keys a second time. "I don't hear anything wrong." Klaus placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You are listening for the wrong notes. Stop listening for mistakes. Listen for what the piano is trying to tell you." For three years, William thought tuning was about correcting errors. That afternoon, something shifted. He stopped forcing his ear and began receiving sound. Within a decade, he became one of the foremost piano technicians in America, known for an almost supernatural ability to hear what others could not.

Young Samuel had spent his whole childhood in the temple, surrounded by the rituals and routines of worship. He heard the oil lamps sputtering, the priests shuffling through their duties, the familiar rhythms of a religious institution in decline. But when the Lord called his name in the darkness, Samuel needed Eli to teach him the difference between hearing and listening. "Speak, for your servant is listening," Samuel finally said — not straining, not grasping, but opening himself like a tuned string to the voice that had been speaking all along. The Almighty does not shout over our noise. He waits for the moment we stop performing our faith and begin receiving His word.