A Song to be Sung


By Marcia K. Leaser

March 7, 2006

John 13:16 I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him.

 

 

A Song to be Sung

 

            When the Lord first gave me the gift of writing songs, I felt blessed.  When I then became aware He wanted me to sing them, I argued.  "I can't sing!  Please send someone else."              Nonetheless, I found myself standing before my little congregation one Sunday morning with legs of spaghetti and a very rapid pulse.

            As I began to sing and my voice echoed back to me through the hushed sanctuary, I thought.  ‘Hey, you don't sound as bad as you thought you would.  I hope everyone is impressed.’

            While I was patting myself on the back... the words to my song went flying out the nearest stained glass window.  I was mortified!  I gave my accompanist a sick grin and we started over.    This time I kept my mind on the words and off my voice, and made it through. 

            But the damage was done.  NEVER would I put myself through that humiliation again.   When church ended I ran out the back door, jumped in my car and headed for home, so as not to suffer furthur

embarrassment.

            Once again my voice echoed back to me, however, this time my voice was angry.  Through a flood of tears I questioned God. 

             "How could You do this to me?  You gave me this gift of song.  It was Your idea, not mine, that I sing them.  You gave me the opportunity to sing.  You put me center stage and then You forget to hold up the cue cards? How will I ever be able to face all my friends again?" I wailed.

            Suddenly, through the anger, pain and tears came another voice... a calm, steady voice.  I'd heard this voice often before.   It was Jesus, and He simply asked.  "What are you doing center stage anyhow?"

            My voice caught in my throat and my tears ceased, as I realized He was right.  For one brief instant I felt ashamed.  But God is so good.  He quickly replaced the shame with an awareness that I had been taught a valuable lesson in a way He knew I’d understand.  I’d been taught humility, which is a far far greater gift then writing, and I praise our Father in Heaven for loving me enough to teach me that.

 

Prayer: Father, keep me ever mindful that Your gift is just that.  Something You have given me to share with a hungry world… for Your glory not my own.

 

 

Thought for the day. Don’t worry about impressing the world with your spiritual gift. 

 



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