I don’t sing very well.

When I was a teenager, I had a radio in my bedroom on the second floor. I would close the door and sing along with the radio to my favorite songs. My father would tell me to keep it down. I kept on singing.

When I was in my twenties, I was in a devotional sect that placed a lot of emphasis on singing God’s praises. I sang my heart out. I thought it’s not how good you sing, but the feeling you put into it. I went to a festival in San Francisco and was asked not to lead the singing. I went and got a motel room down the street from the temple.

When I was in my thirties, I joined a church and was asked to join the choir. I said, “I don’t sing very well.” The choir director gave me private lessons. He said I was a bass and would have a hard time singing melody. I sang with the other basses until he asked me to leave the choir. He said I was the first. I don’t sing very well.

When I was in my forties and fifties, I was a minister. When I interviewed for a position and was asked what my weakness in ministry was, I said, “I don’t sing very well.” I started a spiritual Gathering at my house. It was up to me to lead the worship. I said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t sing very well.”

I love to sing. I play my guitar and sing the songs I love when I am alone because I don’t sing very well. I sing for my own pleasure and joy. I sing because I must. But, I don’t sing very well.

I don’t sing very well, but I play a mean guitar. I play a sweet flute and the keyboards too. I can beat out a rhythm on my drum with the best of them. I preach a rousing sermon and can teach the wisdom of the ages. I can handle horses, fell trees, print books, develop a website, and see God in everything. But, I don’t sing very well.

Steve


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