Had I not come out with an inspirational CD, you perhaps would

In the words of Smokey Robinson, the poet of soul and keeper of melody, we find a confession both tender and divine: “Had I not come out with an inspirational CD, you perhaps would have never known that I feel like I feel, that all songs, all the music I’ve ever done is a gift from God.” Beneath this simple declaration lies a truth as ancient as art itself — that the song of the heart is not born from human effort alone, but from the breath of the eternal. Robinson, who gave the world love songs that danced upon air, here reveals the hidden source of his craft: faith.

In this reflection, he reminds us that art is not self-made. The artist is but a vessel through which something higher flows — a conduit between heaven and earth. When Smokey speaks of an “inspirational CD,” he speaks not of ambition, but of revelation. It is as though, after a lifetime of creating for others’ delight, he chose to reveal the sacred well from which all his music springs. For the ancients taught that the true artist is touched by the muse, and in that touch lies divine responsibility — to create not for fame, but for communion.

The idea that music is a gift from God is no idle sentiment. It echoes through the ages — from the psalms of David to the hymns of Hildegard, from the chants of monks to the jazz of New Orleans. Music has ever been the language of the soul, bridging mortal longing with the infinite. When David plucked his harp before Saul, the tormented king found peace; when Orpheus sang in the underworld, even the stones wept. So too does Robinson see his craft not as performance, but as ministry — a way to heal hearts and lift spirits through beauty shaped by faith.

In this, he joins a lineage of artists who saw creation as sacred duty. Think of Johann Sebastian Bach, who ended every composition with the words “Soli Deo Gloria” — To God alone the glory. Though his genius was unmatched, Bach knew his greatness was not his own possession. He was but the hand through which the divine composed. Smokey Robinson speaks in that same spirit. His music — whether love song or hymn — is an offering, a vessel of gratitude for the life and inspiration he has been given.

When he says, “You perhaps would have never known that I feel like I feel,” there is humility and vulnerability in those words. For how often do we hide our sacred feelings behind worldly masks? How often do creators veil their faith in fear of misunderstanding? Robinson, through his inspirational work, lays his heart bare. He invites us to see the man behind the melody — not merely a legend of Motown, but a soul in awe of the divine source that animates his song. It is a brave and beautiful act, to speak openly of one’s spiritual foundation in an age so often hungry for spectacle and hollow fame.

And so, the lesson shines clear: recognize the gift, and honor the Giver. Whatever your craft — whether you paint, teach, write, build, or heal — remember that your ability is not random. It is a spark of the sacred within you, entrusted to your care. To live without acknowledging this truth is to lose touch with wonder; to live with awareness of it is to walk in grace. Gratitude is the first note of true inspiration, and service is the last.

Therefore, dear listener, when next you create — or even when you simply breathe — remember Smokey Robinson’s wisdom. Let your work, your words, your actions, be filled with reverence. Know that your talents are not possessions but blessings, meant to be shared. For when you use them with love, they return to their source multiplied, like music echoing back to the heavens. And then, as with Robinson, others may one day hear through your life’s song not just your voice, but the quiet, eternal harmony of God’s gift moving through you.