Photo Caption: Last week I visited Fr. Jaime Hinojos to record violin parts for a song he wrote for the International Catholic Stewardship Council’s annual conference. You can find the song here on SoundCloud.

4 Minute Read

Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving;

make melody to our God on the lyre. 

[…]

His delight is not in the strength of the horse,

nor his pleasure in the speed of a runner;

but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him,

in those who hope in his steadfast love.

(Psalm 147:7-11)

I used to tell everyone I was bad at violin. For a long time I genuinely believed it. I first felt this in high school. I still remember an instructor telling me after an underwhelming assessment: ‘John, you’ve plateaued.’ Those words stuck with me as I prepared for my second attempt at auditioning for the top level orchestra at our school. I practiced more than ever before, determined to break out of my slump and redeem myself from last year’s failure. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t master the tricky Vivaldi concerto we were assigned. After failing yet another audition, I was so discouraged that I quit playing violin for about ten years.

I could count on one hand the number of times I took out my violin in that period. With each attempt I noticed that more and more of my former skill had atrophied. In my vocal proficiency course at seminary I was embarrassed to discover that I’d completely forgotten how to read music. So when I told people I was bad at violin, I wasn’t pulling this out of thin air. I sincerely thought it would take at least a year of consistent practice before I’d be at a point where I’d dare play in front of people.

My friend and brother seminarian Eran found out that I played violin in 2019, and insisted that I come to the next practice for our worship band. I assured him I was bad at it, but something in me knew I should give it a try. At the practice I felt awkward and unsure of myself. But as the practice went on, I realized that I could feel where the music was going. I stopped trying to follow the song note for note and I focused on making harmonies. Soon I found myself going up and down the violin, instinctually finding beautiful pitches and interesting variations on the main theme of the song. Even I couldn’t deny that there was something here.

Three years later, I’ve played at over twenty events in front of close to two thousand people. And dozens of them have come up to me afterwards to say how much they appreciated my playing. Many I’m sure were just being nice and trying to encourage me. But many others were clearly touched and delighted. Thirteen years after I decided my gifts lie elsewhere, violin is now the skill which by far the most people have gone out of their way to affirm me for.

What have I learned from this? 

First, I’ve learned that comparison doesn’t just make you feel bad about yourself, it warps your perception of reality. I am good at the violin by any reasonable definition. But I was completely blind to my talent because I had an exaggerated self consciousness about my weaknesses in relation to other players. I was chasing an imaginary threshold after which I’d finally be ‘good.’ I now understand that I don’t need to be a concert master in Carnegie Hall for me to serve and bless people with my gift.¹

Second, I’ve learned that gifts can be hidden and smothered by a one size fits all attitude. I’m reminded of David, who rejected Saul’s armor before his showdown with Goliath (1 Samuel 17:38-40). For most soldiers, fighting Goliath without armor would have been ludicrous. But for David, the armor would have only held him back. In spite of my progress and success, I still struggle with reading music, and my technique falls well short of what I was shooting for in high school. But within these limitations, and outside of the traditional mould of a refined classical player, I’ve accomplished more as a musician than I ever thought I would. David went on to become a great warrior, so we know he eventually outgrew his slingshot and put on armor. And maybe one day I will gain greater mastery of the fundamentals of violin. In the meantime, I will not let this stop me from fighting Goliath.

Finally, I’ve learned to not be so sure I know my gifts. Everyone has blindspots, and sometimes these are big. I can’t decide for myself that I’m not gifted at something. I need to look to others and to God. We find this genuine self knowledge through feedback and prayerful discernment. In seminary formation, and through seminars like the Catherine of Siena Institute’s Called and Gifted workshop, I’ve been taught three helpful signs of a gift:

1) Subjective Experience: when doing this activity you feel fully present, fully engaged, and fully alive; you easily enter a flow state. With a spiritual gift, you often experience a prayerful communion with God; and a feeling that you are doing what you were created to do.

2) Objective Results: you perform your task with excellence and effectiveness. With a spiritual gift, you see that God is glorified through your actions, and his work is accomplished.

3) Outside Feedback: people spontaneously and freely recognize this gift in you. With a spiritual gift, others reveal to you that your activity helped bring themselves and others closer to God.

Doesn’t all of this sound nice? It sure does to me. We are most alive when we operate out of our gifts and are able to regularly practice them. Take out a piece of paper and write down 2-3 of the activities you most enjoy doing. How do they stack up against the three criteria I listed above? If you haven’t already, I highly recommend taking the Called and Gifted workshop to further discern your gifts.

And if you’re a musician who has quit music because you think you’re bad at it, please, please, please, take a second and critical look at the reasons you think so. The world needs beautiful music, and it’s not that hard to make. I’m not saying everyone will turn out to be better than they thought like me. Maybe your gifts do lie elsewhere. But make sure you aren’t letting false modesty, fear, or low self esteem deprive others of your gift. If you know a musician who undervalues their talent and you think this article would encourage them, please send it to them.

And whatever your musical ability, remember that there’s almost no sound sweeter to the ears of a parent than a child singing from their heart. The Father delights in your music, even (and we might even say especially) when it isn’t perfect.

_¹ Speaking of Carnegie Hall concertmasters, here is one of my favorite pieces played by my favorite violinist. I personally recommend sitting back with a glass of wine or a nice tea and taking in the whole thing, but you owe it to yourself to at least watch from 8:17-9:44.

John Brundage is a seminarian with the Companions of the Cross. He also writes a Substack Newsletter called Integrated Prayer.

Check out John’s faith-related articles here!