There is something to be said about live performances.

The original is usually better than the live performance. In the studio, there’s always the option to start over. Mess up? Alright, cut the mics and start over.

Mess up live? Well, grin and bear it. Pretend you meant to do it. Smile and act superior. You are the performer, after all. They’re just the fans. For all they know, this could be the new version, and they’re the first to hear it.

But there’s something special about standing in front of a crowd of thousands, all standing together, shoulders pressing against each other and all struggling to catch a glimpse of their musical preacher.

There is an air of anticipation and excitement, and as the band takes the stage, the noise is deafening. These are not passive appreciators. These are the disciples that spread your words, raising their own voice to match your own.

These are your disciples, those who listen with wide eyes and repeat your words with a passion unmatched even by yourself.

These are the individuals that come together to join you in a youthful harmony; thousands of voices singing the same words. Your voice is louder than all others, but together they rise in volume, almost overwhelming your voice that echoes through the crowd.

There is no script, and there is no plan. They know the words, and you know the tune. You sing with more passion than you ever had in your life, yet the voices in the crowd rise together in a passionate harmony. The volume is louder than anything you have ever heard, and you’re sure that the chorus can be heard from miles away.

When the song finally ends, their voices hold on to the note as long as possible. The voices fade, one at a time, but the echoes still hang in the air, washing over you like a gentle breeze. But even when the guitars stop strumming and the piano stops ringing, there are disembodied voices still singing, their hushed words drifting through the air.

The concert ends, and your words no longer hang in the air. Instead, your disciples take them with them, and you know that despite the distance between you and your traveling disciples, the words will be repeated perfectly.

And as you finally retire for the night, your throat sore from your preaching, you swear you can still hear the thousands of voices, all rising together to meet the final note of the passionate anthem ringing in the air.