This is Ken Logan's fifth time serving as principal organist at the General Conference Session, stretching back to his first appearance in 2005, also in St. Louis. | Katie Fellows
Debbie Michel
July 10, 2025In the hush of early morning, long before most delegates file into the cavernous America’s Center for the General Conference Session, Ken Logan is already seated at the organ. He begins most days at 7:15 a.m., offering a prelude that acts as a bridge to worship. It is a quiet ritual that soon swells into something far larger, a soundtrack for the more than two thousand delegates expected each day.
For Logan, this global meeting that runs July 3-12 is a dance of notes and intuition. “One day I didn’t play at all. Today [Tuesday] I played a lot,” he says with an easy smile. His work shifts with the pulse of the session, from the flow of worship at 8:30 to transitions into prayer, then on to the long business meetings that run from 9:30 to noon and again from 2 to 5. At 1:15 and 6:15, he weaves in “bridges,” lifting spirits or steadying nerves.
Between these moments, Logan is rarely idle. Sequestered in a small backstage office, he practices on a silent keyboard, scans the day’s agenda, and watches for subtle signals. “It’s a challenge,” he says. “I don’t know exactly when I’m coming on. I might be playing during a vote, especially if it’s long enough to warrant music. Or I’ll help fill the time if someone’s drafting an amendment to be shown on the screens.”
Todd McFarland, the church’s parliamentarian, is his chief point of contact, mostly through hand gestures, nods and the simplest cues. “It’s very low tech,” Logan laughs. “But I’m always watching. Being ready is part of the job.”
The Privilege of Subtle Power
To watch Logan is to see someone keenly attuned to the unseen atmosphere of the room. This is his fifth time serving as principal organist at the General Conference Session, stretching back to his first appearance in 2005, also in St. Louis.
“I’m not sure how it happened exactly,” he says of that beginning. “I was at Pioneer Memorial Church [on the campus of Andrews University] then, so I was known. But I just played a little, Thursday, Friday and Sabbath. It was much more limited.”
Since then, the role has grown. “There used to be more than one organist. Occasionally there still is, especially if someone comes in with a group. But it is simpler to coordinate with one person. There is so much behind the scenes, hymn details, transitions, working with the leadership. Maybe over the years it has just been easier to have one point person.”
For Logan, it is more than logistical. “People travel a long way, sometimes at considerable expense, to come here and sing or play once. I get to play far more than that. I take it seriously, being part of shaping the spiritual experience delegates have, even in something as procedural as voting.”
The Weight of the Right Note
It is easy to think of church music as merely an adornment, but Logan, who has served as organist for Pioneer Memorial Church for the last 29 years, sees it as something closer to moral craftsmanship. His song selections during voting, often fraught and occasionally tense, are never random.
During the contentious 2015 vote on women’s ordination, Logan chose carefully. “I needed to emphasize unity. So I played ‘How Firm a Foundation’ and ‘The Church’s One Foundation,’ hymns that reminded us who we are together, without taking a side.”
He knows how music can shade interpretation. “You can absolutely take a side musically,” he says. “If someone has just given a passionate speech, that might not be the moment to play something about forgiveness. It could come off as saying that person needs to be forgiven for speaking.”
Sometimes he aims to soothe. “When there is back and forth, tension, I try to create calm. Vigorous, even dissenting discussion is important. But there is also a moment to cast a sense of unity over the hall.”
Other times, he is deliberate about stirring hearts. “When do you play ‘Give Me the Bible’? It is very neutral but also a statement. It is saying something to the delegates.”
Always Practicing
Even with decades at the organ, Logan is still practicing, literally. This year, before St. Louis, he spent time at a composition retreat in British Columbia. “I wasn’t at the keyboard much there, so the week before coming I had to get back into physical shape. Practicing, stretching, getting the eye-hand coordination tuned up.”
He also prepared special pieces, including a traditional fugue on “Lift Up the Trumpet,” which he is still considering using before the session ends. “Practice is still important. It always is.”
His footwear is its own small ritual, special organ shoes with thin soles and modest heels that allow precise pedal work. “I don’t change out of them much during the day. They’re just right.”
The Quiet Calculus of Influence
From his small backstage perch, Logan remains in a constant state of watchfulness, ready to respond to a subtle glance from McFarland or to the rising temperature of debate on the floor. In those moments, his choices, a gentle line of “He Leadeth Me” or a quiet echo of “My Father Is Rich in Houses and Lands” when the treasury was under discussion, ripple out in ways most delegates may not even consciously register.
“There is a lot of intentionality,” he says. “I’m not just up there playing. I’m listening to where the discussion is going, asking what we need right now.”
It is a kind of stewardship, as weighty in its own way as any spoken vote or parliamentary rule. “It’s a privilege to be part of it,” he says. Then, in a coordinated fashion, he slips back into his organ shoes, ready once more to watch, wait and shape the soul of a global church with nothing more than music in service to God.
Debbie Michel is editor of the Lake Union Herald.
