Some of what the world needs

I went to see Douglass Fitch preach yesterday and my insides woke up.

I'd already been to two services at Glide and witnessed a great sermon by Karen Oliveto (twice). Karen is our newest pastor and she's brought her own light into the church. She's already stirring things up, much to the approval of the ministry team.

But a sermon from Pastor Fitch is a rare treat these days, since his retirement from Glide. I first heard Douglass speak when I came to the church almost 3 years ago. His words triggered a great leaping feeling in my chest that I later came to associate with joy.

I'd never had a pastor before. My family attended Catholic church when I was a child, but more out of duty than desire. Eventually we stopped going altogether. I certainly don't recall ever hearing a sermon that moved me.

I will write about how I came to Glide on another day, but right now I want to organize my thoughts surrounding Doug's sermon yesterday.

He spoke about potential, or more specifically, how so many people are living below their potential. So many of us have become accustomed to thinking that some dreams are simply beyond our reach.

It was a pretty appropriate message for me yesterday, as I'm given to periods of self-doubt when I'm unable to sing. I'd mouthed the words to all the songs at the morning services, still waiting for my voice to return to full strength.

Sometimes I feel kind of stupid for having announced to so many people that I'm going to be a professional singer. It builds this expectation that can be difficult to live up to. And Glide is not an objective place to gauge your successes. There's such an abundance of love and support, I'm not always sure how my talent will stand up outside those walls. Suppose the rest of the world is just not that interested in me?

So I sat up a little straighter when Doug Fitch said, "I know that I have some of what the world needs. I don't have all of it! But I've got some of it."

I was listening harder when he continued, "Somebody needs my particular touch. Somebody needs my perspective."

And I was taking notes a minute later, as he insisted that God has given us some assignments. We're supposed to fashion our unique gifts into something that brings light into the world. We've got to understand that our potential is unlimited; it was given to us at birth before we were even given a name. And that potential is only diminished if we put a ceiling on it.

"'Your best days are not behind you,'" he quoted. "'Your best days are in front of you.' I'm saying, don't die with your gifts still in you!"

I looked around the room. We were in a small chapel; it only seats about 80. Every seat was full. Half the people there had already sat through at least one church service that morning. But they came to hear Douglass speak. They came to be inspired.

Sometimes I wonder if music is important enough to build a life around. I think that surely it's not as important as being a doctor or an architect or a professor, someone who heals or builds or teaches.

But then I think: people come in droves to see their favorite musicians play. They pack giant arenas, they pay hundreds of dollars. They come because the music moves them. They come to be inspired.

And whether I sing for one or for thousands, I'm sharing my light with the world. I'm not going to die with my gifts still in me.

I expect that God wouldn't be too pleased about that.