Not for nothing—and I really don’t know what that phrase means—here’s a list of things I won’t take part in:
1. Roleplaying in team-building retreats.
2. Acting like I enjoy sushi and kombucha because my much cooler friends do.
3. Karaoke. Anytime. Anywhere.
Some of this (not the sushi part) is because of being an introvert. And some of it—say karaoke—is because of a lack of humility and fear of looking stupid, a toxic cocktail when mixed with introversion.
There’s a part of me that admires the courage of karaoke singers and their seeming lack of concern about how they come off. But then I wonder: are they simply oblivious about their vocal competencies and need a truth-telling Simon Cowell in their life? Or maybe I just think too much about things that aren’t important. And, uh, myself.
But the end of the year should be a time to reflect on the past one and think about the new one: all the opportunities to attempt self-betterment and new goals.
Which brings me back to karaoke.
This past year saw the death of the inventor of the first commercially-available karaoke machine: Shigeichi Negishi. He was 100 years old and was reported as dying of natural causes. Hey, if you live to be 100, anything after that is natural.
But the point is, he invented the karaoke machine apparently because a colleague made fun of his singing ability. I suppose Negishi’s train of thought was: If you think I’m bad, wait till you hear what I’m about to unleash on society.
His invention was called The Sparko Box, complete with eight-track tapes and other things from the Jurassic period. But the point is: how many innovations and movements were birthed out of someone’s pain?
Let’s get serious for a moment.
I’ve mentioned this before, but Candy Lightner started Mothers Against Drunk Driving after her thirteen-year-old daughter was killed by someone with multiple DUIs and was still allowed to get hammered and crawl into a two-ton killing machine of sheet metal and gasoline. In twenty-five years, alcohol-related traffic deaths were reduced nearly forty-percent. Because of a mother’s pain.
Perhaps something about inequities of justice in our world…or about the church itself…or about how we Christians are perceived by outsiders…or whatever…has caused you pain in the last year. Maybe a spiritual apathy or lack of empathy has created a dull, nagging hurt. What might be birthed by that in the new year?
That’s where the hope of newness born from pain creates possibilities and power. I can’t wait to see what you do in 2025.
But I’m still not doing karaoke.
Dave Workman | The Elemental Group
ps. Please enjoy…
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