I wasn’t born with a singing voice. Ok, that’s not entirely true. In the opinion of the world, I have not been gifted. But what do they know? The last laugh is on them, because I happen to be another Celine behind closed doors when no one can hear, except for God and I. He has never complained.
I think He wanted to keep this gift a secret between just He and I for this long, because our special time together had never been warped by the praises of man. Every time I would try to sing in front of anyone, my voice would change into some strange hyena’s call from the wild. It was weird. My hidden talent was apparently not for public consumption.
However, having never had my fifteen minutes of fame, I started to crave just one simple night of people applause, marveling that in my heavenly humility, I had kept this precious secret to myself all these years. I wanted my secret to speak volumes about my own spiritual superiority. If it’s better to give in secret, pray in secret, then perhaps in my case I was having to learn to sing in secret. But just one night and then I could go back in hiding?
That was my dream. That was my downfall. That was the beginning of this story.
One day I started singing a worship song that just came to me out of the blue. Each time I sang it a new verse would come to me, and it sounded so good I almost got all full of myself right there in the middle of American St. and Idol Blvd.
That night was Wednesday night church. At our small family atmosphere church, our pastor often had an open mike at the beginning to hear anyone’s testimony of God’s goodness. I just knew with this knock down gorgeous song with my secret heavenly voice, it was my moment in time.
And to make it even more perfect, my three teenage daughters would all be there sitting with my husband and all our church family to hear my first audition to the ears of humanity.
I practiced all day, and to me it actually got better than Celine. I almost started to feel sorry for her as I dreamed of my name in lights singing gospel right in the middle of Vegas with thousands coming to the Lord and revival breaking out.
That night as I walked towards the mike, with my daughters on the second row, I was riding on cloud nine. I truly believed our church just may see a miracle right before their eyes. Not only that, but the song was profoundly deep, I remember thinking. Something about being on a ledge and starting to fly like an eagle, a really fresh original take on being free in the Lord. The exact lyrics elude me now, and soon you will understand why.
As I started to sing, I remembered how important getting that first note just right was, and for some awful reason, it sounded off. Now remember to ME I had always sounded beautiful. No one else ever thought so, so I had stopped blessing them with my voice years and years ago. I always lip synced in public just to avoid all the bad looks.
But now as I started singing, I was horrified. It was not the real me. Some other fool was singing and making fun of me. My daughters heads were all down, and my husband was red with embarrassment. To be frank, I didn’t blame them. Had it not been church, I probably deserved a thrown egg.
I had to keep singing, because to give up and sit down was not an option. It was the longest 3 minutes of my life. I forgot the words at one point, and when I saw the pity in the pastor’s wife’s face, I really wanted to die right then. I was wishing for an earthquake in Houston.
As I sauntered back to my seat, with the sound of obligatory applause, I remember telling God never ever will I do anything remotely like that ever again.
His words back to my heart were “humble people cannot be humiliated.”
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