I was raised in a Catholic school, and I would always go to

Hear, O seekers of song and spirit, the words of Charlie Puth, who confessed: “I was raised in a Catholic school, and I would always go to church on Sunday, and I would hear the same music over and over and over and over again, same gospels, hymns, everything.” At first glance, these words seem merely the recollection of a childhood routine. Yet in truth, they reveal something far deeper: the power of repetition, the shaping of the soul through rhythm, and the way sacred music weaves itself into memory and identity.

For behold, the ancient way of teaching was not through endless novelty, but through repetition. The child who hears the same hymns, the same gospels, the same words again and again, finds that they sink into his bones, shaping thought and emotion in ways unseen. Though the young may grow weary of such repetition, later in life they discover that these familiar sounds have become part of their foundation, guiding them, comforting them, and whispering truth in times of need.

Consider the monks of medieval Europe, chanting the Psalms day after day, year after year. To an outsider, such repetition may seem dull. But the monks knew the secret: that by singing the same sacred music unceasingly, the heart is trained, the mind is focused, and the soul is aligned with heaven. What seems monotonous to the impatient becomes a pathway to discipline and transcendence. So too in Puth’s experience, the endless hymns of childhood became the soil in which his musical gift took root.

History shows us that even the greatest works of art are born from repetition. Beethoven, though deaf, wrote his symphonies by laboring over the same notes and themes until they were perfected. The builders of cathedrals laid stone upon stone, each one like the last, until soaring monuments reached the heavens. In the same way, the endless cycle of Sunday music that Puth endured was not wasted—it became the repetition that trained his ear, sharpened his memory, and prepared him for a life of creation.

Mark this wisdom: what seems tedious in the moment often proves transformative in the long view. The child may sigh at the repeated gospel or the unchanging hymn, but these very patterns create order within the soul. They teach patience, discipline, and continuity in a world that ever clamors for novelty. Puth’s recollection is not only of weariness, but of recognition—that through this sameness, the seeds of his artistry and discipline were planted.

The lesson is clear: do not despise repetition, for it is the mother of mastery. Whether in music, in faith, in labor, or in life, the repeated act carves pathways in the soul and builds foundations that cannot be shaken. The ordinary cycle, the familiar rhythm, the oft-repeated word—all become part of who we are. To endure them patiently is to be shaped by them; to resist them is to miss the quiet strength they offer.

Practical wisdom calls for this: embrace the repetitive practices in your own life. Sing the same song with attention, read the same words with deeper reflection, practice the same skill until it becomes second nature. What at first feels like weariness will in time transform into wisdom, strength, and excellence. In these repetitions, you are being formed, even if you do not yet see the pattern.

Thus, beloved, remember Charlie Puth’s words. The endless hymns, the repeated gospels, the music heard “over and over and over” were not merely routine—they were a silent teacher, shaping a musician and a man. And so it is with all of us: what repeats in our lives, though it may weary us, may yet be the very thing that prepares us for greatness. Embrace it, endure it, and let it shape you.