Mosaics
“‘For it is just like a man who was about to take a journey, and he called his servants together and entrusted them with his possessions.’” (Matthew 25:14, Amplified Bible.)
Many people had told Barbara she had a good voice. She had sung on and off (mostly off) since sixth grade when she was chosen to sing with the Philadelphia Girls Choir. She enjoyed singing.
After becoming a Christian, Barbara somewhat disparaged her talent, believing it not “practical,” not something that could contribute in a meaningful way. She seldom sang until a friend guilted her into doing an occasional solo at church.
Years went by. She grew older. As her hair began to go from black to grey she assumed she’d “loose” her voice; she’d heard it happen with age. But then she learned that that’s not always true. So she purposed to use her talent as long as she could. She joined a praise team.
Shortly after she joined the team, the sound technician, a contemporary with a slightly rounding belly and a full head of mostly brown hair, spoke to Barbara. He told her that there are three kinds of singers: there are those who can sing* but don’t have a good voice and there are those who have a good voice but can’t sing. (There are a few, he said, that have such a great voice that it doesn’t much matter that they can’t sing.) Most everyone in church fell into one of the first two groups. But there’s a third group: those who both have a good voice and can sing. You, he told Barbara, are one of those.
Barbara pondered his words the rest of the day and into the next. For decades she had unwittingly undervalued the gift she’d been given. She hadn’t buried her gift, but instead of faithfully investing her gift she had largely left it unattended.
Father, help us be faithful to develop and use whatever talent or gift You have given to its fullest potential, never discrediting what You have given, trusting that what You have entrusted to us is a vital part of the mosaic You created to glorify Your name.
*sing – (as used here) vocalizing with passion.
