I grew up in Nashville, and was a kid who loved to sing from a very young age. I would perform for anyone who listened, and always wanted to be on stage. One of the upsides of being a kid who’s into performing in Nashville is that there are lot of opportunities. One of the downsides is that there are also a lot of very talented people. 

By the time I was in 8th or 9th grade, I stopped consistently getting parts and solos, and I was resentful about it. In particular, I was resentful of one girl, a year older than me, who seemed to get every part I wanted. She was a beautiful blonde soprano who sounded exactly like I wished I sounded. She sat in front of me in choir for years and I found myself fighting to get out of her shadow, cast as her understudy in community theater performances, or her back-up vocal on solos. 

As an angsty 15 year old, I told my mom about my frustration. She smiled empathetically, and  told me that in high school choir, she sat next to Amy Grant (yes, that Amy Grant).¹ I asked her if that was hard, if she was ever jealous of Amy’s talent, and she said, “Oh gosh no, I loved sitting next to her. It was so much fun! I didn’t realize until I didn’t sit next to her any more how much better I was just because I was singing along with her.” She warmly told stories about how focused, enthusiastic, and gifted Amy was, even when she was young, and how it made her want to try harder too.

I was thinking about my mom’s story while talking to a preacher this morning with decades of experience. We were working on a piece of curriculum, with him giving feedback and offering suggestions. My gut instinct was to be defensive, but as I sat and listened, I realized how much I could gain by not just learning from this man, but from singing along with him. I asked questions, asked him to clarify things, offered my own ideas, and took moments to stop and think before responding outright. 

I thought more deeply about the curriculum, what assumptions I had baked into my perspective and what deeper questions I could ask. I found myself wishing that I had gotten the chance to have all these conversations months ago when I had started, and wondering who else I could get to join the choir. 

The girl who sat in front of me, who I wished would move out of a spotlight that I wanted, wound up getting much bigger spotlights than our high school had to offer. She went on to a very successful 10 year career in musical theater, culminating in playing the role of Glinda in Wicked on Broadway for 5 years. You can now see her as the leading lady in several Hallmark Christmas movies.²

I can now say I am probably a much better singer and actress because I got to be her understudy for most of my high school years. I am better because I got to sing along with her. 

Who in your ministry, leadership, and spiritual circles can you sing along with? Who around you can you not just learn from, but journey alongside in their craft? Depending on the context, this might look like a mentorship, sending over drafts for someone you respect to review, or working with people you admire on a project. When we think about it, this walking alongside is how Jesus taught those who were closest to him, and what is the discipleship of someone if not just the invitation for them to sing along with you in the pursuit of God? 

In our craft, and in our spiritual life we have so much to gain if we can approach those who know more, have seen more, or frankly, are just more talented than we are, with joy and gratitude instead of anxiety or jealousy. It’s easier said than done, but it can be a place where God is at work in powerful ways. 

This week, be on the lookout for those you want to sing along with, and if you’re looking to connect with someone else on the same paths you are, reach out to us. 

1. This is not a fake story, Amy Grant (and my mom) were Harpeth Hall Class of 1978 ↩︎
2. This is also not a fake story, her name is Ginna Claire Mason, I googled her for you. ↩︎