This post is written by Leslie Hudson as a companion for Unit 22, Session 2 of The Gospel Project for Adults, Volume 8: From Wonder to Rejection (Summer 2023).

One of the most notable experiences in my life was having the opportunity to be part of a church band with Hoot Hester. You probably don’t recognize that name. But his ability to play a fiddle was simply out of this world.

Hoot was born in Kentucky but moved to the Nashville area to pursue a career in music. He and his wife settled down near Dickson, 45 minutes away, and we at First Baptist Church Dickson had Hoot on stage most Sunday mornings. He was no run-of-the-mill church musician; he was on the staff band at the Grand Old Opry for years and played on numerous other broadcast and televised music shows. The artists he’d recorded for read like a who’s-who of country and bluegrass music.

After playing for the Grand Old Opry until the wee hours of Sunday morning, Hoot would roll into church, sleep-deprived but right on time. He usually played guitar, but when we needed a fiddle solo, it was all Hoot. (There was actually a rumor that he could play anything with strings. I believe it.) Sometimes he’d even bring his own microphone, the fancy kind they used in studio recordings, to make that fiddle sing like an angel. If Hoot was on stage, we knew the music would be top-notch; whispers of “Hoot’s here!” would resonate through the band when he walked in the sanctuary.

He could feel every aspect of the music, even if he missed rehearsals. One of the guys in our band told me a story about Hoot’s ear: for special music, a group was singing a new song but no one could find music; the publishers didn’t have it for sale and no one could even find basic chords online. So my friend painstakingly listened to the song for hours and figured out the chord structure for the band. That next Sunday morning, Hoot showed up just as they were rehearsing. He listened to the song one time—one time—and instantly began to jot down some numbers on a piece of paper; he’d correctly identified every chord and wrote them on his paper perfectly. What had taken my friend, a very good musician, hours, Hoot deciphered in three minutes.

Another time, Hoot had missed sound check but slid into his stool just as the music started. I was playing that morning, and as the special started, I thought to myself, “Oh no; there’s a weird key change in this song, but Hoot doesn’t know that!” As the key change approached, it was as though Hoot could feel it coming; he fiddled us right into the new key as easy as if he’d been playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

When Hoot died, our local church was packed with some of Nashville’s most famous musicians, all come to pay him respect. The next Sunday, all the band members took time to remember him: he was humble, kind, helpful, and encouraging. Never wanting the spotlight, Hoot made everyone better just by being there.

I imagine that it was something like this when Jesus showed up in the first century. No one could teach like Him, no one could heal like He did, and no one could see straight through to the heart like He did. When Jesus graced a home or a synagogue, we can only imagine the whispered excitement, “Jesus is here!” Whatever the struggle or the challenge, people knew it would be better because Jesus was there.

And in this week’s story, you’ll see His ability to win over a room full of skeptics, not with flashy words or with charisma but with the power of God flowing through Him. Jesus didn’t need to defend himself against their doubts or suspicions; He simply proved Himself when His words yielded an instant miracle. 

Leslie Hudson loves her mornings of silence, coffee, and Jesus—not in that order. She lives with her husband and kids in White Bluff, Tennessee, where they raise blueberries, figs, and bees. She loves to spend her free time reading, writing, journaling, and helping others know and follow Jesus.