a voice crying out in the postmodern wilderness

Sing Your Song

Sing Your Song

“Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Civil Disobedience and Other Essays    

I have learned something about singing, though for the good of mankind I should not sing.  When a singer sings scared, their song is bad and I have the tendency to focus on the singer, sympathizing with the awkwardness of the bad whisper song. 

Most don't sing songs because they are afraid of looking stupid.  They don't want to be pitchy, in the words of Randy from past seasons of American Idol.

Here is the irony - when someone sings their guts out, the result is typically more beautiful and so we tend to focus on the song and not the singer.  The singer becomes simply a vessel for the song and while they are standing there with notes coming out of their mouths, it isn't them that we cherish.

It's the beauty of the song.

God gives all of us songs to sing.  Not actual songs, but metaphorical songs.  We were made to do big stuff not to magnify us but to magnify God's beauty.

Insecurity stands in the way.  We start to think that our song is about us and so we balk, not wanting to put ourselves out there for fear of being judged or ridiculed.

There are two tragedies in not singing our song until our lungs burn:

1.  The song we do sing is awful, like a wounded cow.

2.  We rob others of seeing the beauty of God and the smallness of us by singing and imaging God in glorious ways.

Grab a mic and sing.  See what happens.


Photo credit: Petri Damsten via Flickr

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