God gives us our own particular talents. Mine isn’t singing. Even if you take away the Southern twang, my voice is deeper than some men’s, and I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.
This morning I was in my car with the radio up loud, bouncing around in my seat, singing Victory along with Yolanda Adams and thinking about Heaven. If anyone had been riding along with me, I imagine they would have been looking at me out of the corner of their eyes with one brow raised, thinking This girl needs to stop butchering that song. And look at her, bouncing around like a crazy person with her hand in the air with two fingers making the shape of a V.
Some people believe we will instantly be gifted with angelic voices as soon as we cross through the pearly gates. I don’t. I picture myself standing with the heavenly choir, singing Victory at the top of my lungs. We all will sound beautiful as a group, but up close, I’ll still sound bad. And the person beside me with the angelic voice will look at me and think, Look at her, praising Jesus! Yes, yes! As she dances along beside me with her fingers in the air giving the victory sign.
See, I don’t believe my voice will change once I get to Heaven. But my attitude will. I’ll finally be able to think like Jesus. The negative thoughts will pass. I’ll look at others and only see them, the way He sees them. Praise God!