At a women's retreat recently, I told (with a few more embellishments) this edited story from my archives...
A few years ago, my daughter Emily and I interviewed Christian recording artist Rebecca St. James for publication. Working with Rebecca, her family and her publicist was a unique and perfectly delightful experience. Well in advance of the interview, Rebecca's publicist armed us with books and posters and music. We were already familiar with Rebecca and her music, but we did our research and were well-prepared to ask intelligent, relevant questions.
At that time, Rebecca conducted interviews by phone on a day she was traveling between concert venues, rather than fitting them into an already busy performance night schedule. Without the energy that surrounds a concert, we were a little nervous waiting at home for Rebecca to call on the day our interview with her was scheduled, but when she did, she quickly put us at ease - allowing for comfortable, unhurried introductions. She patiently let us double check our recording devices and prayed before we began. At the conclusion of our conversation, she gave us the information we needed to contact her brother, Joel, for passes to the upcoming concert where we could meet her and her family and take photos for the magazine.
Joel was just as delightful and engaging as his sister. The night of the concert he met us at the back door hours before the concert and gave us our “all access” passes before returning to work setting up the stage.
As "all-access" novices, Emily and I were clueless about what we could or should do. We visited with people we knew from the local Christian radio station, watched the crews set up the stage and listened to sound-checks. We knew we were invited to join Rebecca and the bands for supper and pre-concert devotions led by Rebecca’s dad, as well as to attend the meet and greet, but it was days later before we realized just how much more access we’d been given and how we’d failed to understand and appreciate the opportunity.
We had tickets to sit close to the stage for the concert, but a stage extension had eliminated several rows of seats. By the time we left the pre-concert meet and greet, the only place left to sit close enough to take photos for the magazine was on the floor next to the stage. It was one of the longest and most painful concerts my fifty-something body has ever endured.
Days later, when asked by someone who had worked the concert how we enjoyed the experience, I told her how hard it was for me to sit for hours on the floor.
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Why didn’t you go backstage and take photos?” she responded.
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We could do that?” I asked.
“
You could have gone anywhere you wanted with those all-access passes."
I think of that "all-access" experience often. When
the curtain in the temple that had separated God’s people from His presence was torn from top to bottom at the moment of Christ's death on the cross, an “all-access” pass to a relationship with the Father through Jesus Christ was given to all of us - and just like my all-access pass at Rebecca’s concert - I have sometimes failed to understand and benefit from all that access means.
When our concert evening with Rebecca was over, we returned the "all access" passes to her brother Joel, and that access to Rebecca and the Smallbone family came to an end. The opportunity for interviews and photos was over, and much like the Jewish High Priest's yearly entrance into the Holy of Holies; it was an access that was not likely to come around again anytime soon.
Those concert "all access" passes could not have been expensive to produce. They were printed on cardstock, laminated, and worn around our necks on lanyards, and were of no use to anyone when Rebecca's concert tour was over. In sharp contrast, my "all access" pass to the Father came at a high price,
bought with blood, secured and sealed by the Holy Spirit for all eternity – it’s an all-access pass I’ll never have to return. There will never be a curtain to separate you and me from an intimate relationship with the indescribable, all-powerful, loving Creator of the Universe.
Photos: Rebecca St.James and Emily at an event in Tampa a year ago; Emily with her all-access pass the night of the concert.
