I realized the other day that I have the Johnny Mathis and Art Garfunkel versions of Albert Hammond and Hal David’s haunting “99 Miles From LA,” but not Hammond’s own. I also own Glen Campbell’s and Susan Cowsill’s fantastic takes on Jimmy Webb’s “Galveston,” but not Webb’s recording.
The greatest songwriters often aren’t the greatest singers. And this world is often harsh on those who aren’t the best. Why didn’t Kristofferson and Dylan stick to writing rather than performing, for example. Those of us who saw Sofia Coppola acting in Godfather III are grateful she found her way to her true talents, screenwriting and directing. While I’m a decent writer, I’m far from the best, and for years avoided writing because I thought my greater gift was in editing other’s words.
And yet, if something brings us joy, what’s the harm in pursuing it? Someone, possibly St. Augustine, said singing is praying twice–not singing well, but just singing. Maybe it’s the same thing for acting, writing, painting, quilting, or any number of activities. That warm feeling we have when we’re doing something we love, no matter how well we do it, whether or not it’s commercially successful, is a Holy Spirit moment. It permeates our souls and provides the fuel we need to minister to others–not always perfectly, not always completely, but in a way that is pleasing to them and to God. And there is no better way to be in good voice.
