I'm going out on a limb here; I hope I don't endanger anyone by telling their story in public.
A high school student was discovering new empowerment as a service player. He had the "chops" to play hymns, anthems and solos and to sightread new music in choir rehearsal. He had drifted into service playing, like many people do, little by little: "Hey, could you play this or that song/hymn/anthem next Sunday?" "Hey, could you play the whole service next month?" The weeks went by, and one thing led to another, and the next question was, "Hey, could you be our regular pianist?" The student quickly discovered how rewarding all this was and how rewarding it was for his listeners, and he could come away a tiny bit wealthier at the same time. Win-win-win. He was falling into his element.
His mother was horrified and forbade it. Not because she thought service playing was a bad idea, but because it would be a bad idea in that church 60 miles from home. Her son would no longer be around on weekends. "I'd never see you again, dadgummit!"
Well, the kid did what any other kid under the age of 18 ought to do: he obeyed his mother's command and turned down the church's offer. While the kid went on to become a successful and acclaimed service player, being made to turn down that very first offer as a church pianist came at a price. Three prices, actually, all of which Mother, not the kid, paid: 1) When he came of age, the next offer was for organist, not pianist. This was equally horrifying to dear old mother, because she had rather he play the piano, not the organ. 2) The offer was from a Presbyterian church, not the Baptist church mother swore by. The next two offers were Methodist and Episcopal! 3) He never trusted Mother again.
It is difficult to continue this story in third person, so I'll switch to first, which is the correct person, anyway. I had a mentor help me through that time in my life. It was a difficult time, and I am not the only person to have experienced such a thing. I was amazed at how calm my mentor was and how he had just the right words to say, even when he spoke to my mother and tried to talk some sense into her. Although that didn't work, no one expected it to, and at least I knew I wasn't alone.
Fast-forward to today, where I am now the mentor and have the same calm disposition on behalf of a kid in a similar situation. It is remarkable to compare a time when I was in emotional need with now being in a position of meeting pretty much the same emotional needs. That is about the only good thing I have found about getting old and bald. It feels good to me to be there for someone, although I wish the situation didn't exist for the one going through it.
Anyway, today there is another high school student who is discovering his empowerment as a service player. He has drifted into service playing, first as an occasional organist and now as the permanent, all at his home church. (That alone should raise a red flag -- prophet in his own land!) He does not receive the positive reinforcement I did in those early churches, and he is growing weary of denominational dogma. So he went job-hunting. He found a lovely Episcopal church, interviewed, and was offered the position. His pastor and father intervened and have forbidden him from accepting that position, citing that Episcopalians (I'll bet their word was 'Episcopals,' but I wasn't there) are actually Catholics, and "Catholics don't pray to God."
One hardly knows where to begin, and so I will just end: young person, if you're listening to this, you hang in there. Better days are ahead, and people like me standing by to help are legion. And just as my mentor spoke with my mother in a calm, reasonable voice, I am ready to do the same for you when you need it. We all know it won't hurt, but we also know it probably won't help.