Randall Atcheson is a concert pianist. Not just any old concert pianist, either. He is a Steinway Artist. Wherever he performs, anywhere in the world, the Steinway company delivers a full-sized grand piano and tunes it before he plays.He performs at Carnegie Hall, buys his shoes in Paris, and wears colorful socks even when he dons his best tie and tails.

He was the Resident Musician during Writing for the Soul and led us in worship before each session. One evening, he gave us a full concert that started with Chopin and ended with Great Balls of Fire (after he kicked off his shoes and put his purple-stockinged feet to the pedals).

And, if that weren’t enough to blow me away. The man carries his own luggage.

I was standing outside in the snow on Sunday afternoon, waiting for a cab back to the airport when the great artist emerged from the lobby. The driver of his town car leaped out and hurried over to take his matching set of luggage (probably also from Paris.) But! The driver was a lady. She wasn’t just a cute, young thing. She was a woman of a certain age, possibly working her way through a late-in-life decision to go to college or something. And she reached out for his luggage with a smile.

But, the concert pianist would have none of that. “You don’t have to carry my bags,” he said, “I can do it.” When she insisted, he finally handed over his briefcase. Then he pulled the remaining cases across the drive and loaded them into the trunk of the car.

I wish we’d given him a standing ovation for that.