The biggest challenge, I think for any new artist, is patience.

Hear, O children of creation and song, the words of Brett Eldredge, who spake with the voice of experience: “The biggest challenge, I think for any new artist, is patience.” Though the words are few, they resound with the weight of truth, for the path of artistry is not swift nor easy, but long and often lonely. The world may see the glory of the stage, the light upon the singer, the applause of the crowd—but behind every moment of triumph lies years of waiting, toiling, and believing in silence.

Mark well this wisdom: the young artist burneth with fire, eager to pour forth the song within, the poem, the painting, the vision. Yet the world is not quick to listen, nor generous to reward. Doors close, voices doubt, time stretches long. In such moments, many abandon their gifts, believing themselves forgotten. But it is here, in the stillness, that patience is demanded. For greatness is not born in haste—it is carved slowly, as rivers carve valleys and as roots push deep before the tree may rise.

Consider the tale of Vincent van Gogh. In his own life, he sold but a single painting. His days were filled with poverty, rejection, and despair. Yet he painted still, day after day, with colors burning like fire upon his canvas. He had not the reward of fame in his lifetime, yet he endured with patience, believing in the vision within him. Long after his death, the world awoke to his genius, and now his art shines as one of the greatest treasures of mankind. Here is the proof of Eldredge’s words: without patience, the artist perisheth; with patience, his work endureth beyond his years.

So too in music, in story, in invention. The Beatles, before their rise, played in dingy clubs for years, shaping their sound, honing their craft, unseen by most. Their challenge was not only talent, but the patience to endure rejection and obscurity until the world was ready to hear them. Every artist, whether known or unknown, must walk through this valley: the waiting, the slow shaping of craft, the faith that one’s voice shall be heard in its season.

Mark this truth also: patience is not idleness. It is not the folding of hands and the passing of time. It is active, like the farmer waiting for his harvest—tending the soil, pulling the weeds, watering daily, even when no fruit is seen. So too the artist must labor while waiting: practicing, refining, creating, even when applause is absent. For the fruit of patience is not found in waiting alone, but in waiting while working.

The lesson is clear: if thou art called to create, do not despair when thy path is long. The delay is not denial—it is preparation. The world may not yet be ready for thy voice, but in thy patience thou art being strengthened, shaped, and seasoned. Resist the temptation to seek shortcuts, for what is gained quickly is lost quickly. Endure, and in time, thy gift shall shine forth, brighter for the long night that preceded it.

Practical is this counsel: create daily, even when no one watches. Share thy work, even when the crowd is small. Celebrate small victories, for they are steps on the path. And above all, guard thy heart with patience, knowing that the season of harvest cometh in its own time. For the true artist is not the one who begins in fire, but the one who endures until the fire lights the world.

Thus remember Eldredge’s words: “The biggest challenge for any new artist is patience.” This is not only for musicians or painters, but for all who would build, dream, and create. Endure the waiting, embrace the labor, trust the season—and thou shalt see that patience, though the hardest virtue, is the key that unlocks destiny.