Today in our church, we were treated to the most wonderful experience. Chiz Rider came and played his trumpets for us. I wasn't expecting what I received this morning. Last month when his impending visit was announced, it sounded like a good time. Some nice music to perk up the second grey Sunday of the new year.
I had no idea.
Music--good music--sometimes brings me to tears. But this was something far beyond simply good music. Tears were streaming down my face moments into his concert. There wasn't another sound in the church expect for this man's horn. This guy was blowing his gift out into the heavens for all to hear and enjoy. I don't know that I can even describe how I felt listening to him. Sometimes people do things really, really well--but their talent is just one part of them. Chiz was this talent. I can't explain it, but he was his trumpet for those 45 minutes or so that he played for us. He was the music. Oh, what a gift!
Ever since mid last year when our pastor mentioned in one of our services about everyone having a gift, I've been a little bit tormented about the fact that I have no determinable gift. Everyone I know has a gift: my mom can take anything and make it positive, she never forgets anything, and she keeps her word more than anyone I've ever known. My dad is the most laidback person I know and I get my love of nature from him. My kids have more gifts than I can possibly name. And so on--they all have gifts.
But maybe one's gift isn't necessarily a talent? Maybe being gifted doesn't mean being able to sing or make something or cook or paint well. Couldn't it be possible that one's gift is simply being able to enjoy from the level of one's soul, the gift of others? And if that is possible, perhaps I've found my gift. Because today my soul was shaken by the music of a man playing a horn.