GC New Year’s Message

When I shared with an associate that an author had passed away, she said that we are losing our greats one-by-one. I sighed at that remark. Part of me accepted her words as truth, but part of me did not accept those words as law. Immediately, I thought that there were many greats left, the greats who have passed on have only made room for the ones who are still here, right now.

To illustrate my point, I heard Myles Munroe repeat a story I've heard often over the years. He, in effect, said that the cemetery was filled with a lot of potential. Lying in those graves were unwritten and unpublished books; music we will never hear; buildings we will never visit because they will never be built; cures for diseases; sermons that will never be preached, etc.

Yes, I'd heard that story many times before, but on this morning I heard it differently. I heard it as though it was all about me; specifically spoken to me. I've got all of this potential and my fear is that I'm going to take it to the grave with me. Do you feel the same way?

As convinced as I am that there is no other voice out there like Gerald's is as convinced as I am that there is another voice, a different voice waiting to be heard. That voice belongs to my mailman or to that irritating girl at the discount store around the corner from my house. My mail doesn't come on time because that guy is not passionate about delivering mail for the postal service; he is passionate about singing. That girl only irritates me, because she is irritated; she is a frustrated vocalist too scared to do her thing and she is making me pay for it with her unhappiness.

Of course, there will never be another Ed Bradley, but there is some young person or even an older person filled with a burning desire coupled with major talent to begin a new generation of broadcast journalists who would make Ed proud. The author who died was an awesome talent too, but there is a book inside of someone, somewhere that is waiting to be written on a page and sold in a bookstore.