What is Your Legacy? What Is Your Verse?

Walt Whitman wrote in "O Me, O Life," the words "That the powerful play (life) goes on and you may contribute a verse." In the movie "Dead Poet's Society," Robin Williams asks his students "What will your verse be?"

Today, I had the privilege of watching "Bohemian Rhapsody" again. Just a few hours later, I watched the latest episode of "Songland," the new NBC show where each week aspiring songwriters present their original songs to established artists. One week, unknown writers presented to the Jonas Brothers. Another week, a group presented to Aloe Blacc. The premise exposes raw talent to established talent to mentor and gift an original song to the artist to record.

In watching this movie and this show, it reminded me of the raw vulnerability required of true and authentic art. It also showcased the genius that is exposed when people drop limits and guards and allow what's within them to move to the front of their conscience and speak. Freddy Mercury took risks with music in the face of criticism and voices that tried to silence his. But by staying true to what existed within him, he created something timeless that spoke to multiple generations through its truth.

Just one month ago, I experienced Wildfire, our summer camp at LCBC for middle schoolers. We played a reverse charades game--the lyric edition--where a few students stood on stage while the hundreds of students in the gathering space gave them clues to whatever was on the screen. When the song title "We Will Rock You" popped on the screen, hundreds of 10-13 year olds began doing the iconic stomp-stomp-clap, stomp-stomp-clap, and the student on stage immediately yelled "We Will Rock You." A song written in 1977. 42 years ago.

That's art. That's timeless. And we each possess a piece of this. We each hold a truth or wisdom or idea to pass along and contribute in our own way. Whether through words, song, portrait, photograph or action. We each own a piece of humanity that needs to be shared.

I'm certain that the songs presented on "Songland" this series won't be iconic and certainly won't be known by middle schoolers four decades after they're recorded. But tonight reminded me of the importance of sharing what's within us. And how that connects us through an ability to capture our mutual experience. Or create an experience for us that we didn't know we desperately needed.

As we navigate daily life and its demands, joys and moments, may we not be myopic. Not consume the gift of beauty, experience and vulnerability given to us by those brave enough to expose themselves to the world through their art--despite their sacrifice of judgment, criticism and condemnation in their hopes to inspire, create connection or simply change one mind or one life. And may we not deprive ourselves of the freedom of finding that within and letting it breathe life by sharing it with the world. And letting that truth be our legacy.

Surrender brings Freedom

Bethel music produced a song, "No Longer Slaves," with the powerful bridge, "You split the sea so I could walk right through it." This alludes to Moses, in the Old Testament, leading the Hebrew people away from being slaves in Egypt to the Promised Land. In Exodus 14, which is part of the Jewish Torah, the Christian Bible and the Quran, the story of Moses and the Red Sea portrays how Moses led the Hebrew slaves across the Red Sea by holding up his staff and parting the waters so they could pass safely as they escaped hundreds of years of slavery in Egypt.

The chorus of Bethel's song sings, "I'm no longer a slave to fear." Followed by the bridge, "You split the sea..."

This isn't just about rescue or freedom. It isn't about outright deliverance from difficulty, pain or drowning. It's about a path through the difficulty, pain and situations that engulf us in wave after wave of seemingly endless turmoil. When each day, each moment aches with an endless purgatory with no respite. No hope. Those moments when just as we reach the surface and grasp for air, another wave slams overhead and pushes us back beneath the surface.

In those moments, there is a power, a force that splits the sea. We can't escape the sea because we're in the middle of it, surrounded by the difficulty, pain, disease, hurt. There's no easy exit. But there is a way through it. A way to walk on dry land while the waves crest above us, hovering--threatening to crash down and consume us. We--like Moses--simply need to stretch out our hands and surrender to the power that will split the sea.