Moments of Grace, Time After Time

Shelley and I love 80's music.

Last night we cuddled in bed and watched VH1's "100 Greatest Songs of the 80's". What an experience! We laughed at the hairstyles of The Cure, while remembering how it felt to be in junior high dancing to their hit "Just Like Heaven". We sang along with Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer", while chuckling at the fact that I still listen to them. And of course we immediately remembered Jenny's phone number as soon as the show's narrator mentioned Tommy Tutone-- 867-5309.

But near the end of the show we experienced what I can only call a moment of grace. Cyndi Lauper's hit "Time After Time" was highlighted. I've never really considered myself a Cyndi Lauper fan, but the beauty of that song is beyond words. Co-written and sung with Rob Hyman, the lyrics, the melody, and the passion with which it is performed remind us that songs like this are in existence so that all who hear it will simply enjoy it and experience a moment of grace.

If you're lost, you can look-- and you will find me
time after time.
If you fall, I will catch you-- I'll be waiting
time after time.

Moments of grace, time after time.

The Uncontainable God

I love the music of the Indigo Girls. Amy Ray and Emily Saliers-- the multiple Grammy winning acoustic alternative-folk-rock duo from Atlanta-- are best known for their piercing harmonies, poetic lyrics and smooth guitar riffs reminiscent of Dylan but with a flavor all its own.

I was first introduced to their music in 1989, and have been hooked ever since. I've seen them in concert 3 times, each of which was mesmerizing to say the least.

Over the years some Christians have expressed disapproval of the Indigo Girls because of their lifestyles and lack of affiliation with a formal church. While I understand their concerns, I will always stick up for these girls for this reason: Their music was a major factor in my own coming to faith.

The first Indigo Girls song I heard back in 1989, contained these words:

We go to the Bible
We go through the workout
We read up on revival
We stand up for the lookout.

I thought to myself, "Hmmm. . Maybe I should check out the Bible." And so I did, for which I am glad.

Soon thereafter, I bought their album Strange Fire and heard these words:

Hey Jesus, it's me. I'm sorry.
I don't remember all I said.
I had a few-- no, too many
And they went straight to my head
And made me feel like I could argue with God.

I thought to myself, "Hmmm.. maybe I should try talking to Jesus, and apologize for being such a stubborn sinner." And so I did, for which I am glad.


In recent years I have had the privilege of meeting and conversing with Emily Saliers (the woman in the above picture) on two separate ocassions, both of which were in churches where she performed with her father, Dr. Don Saliers. Emily is friendly, soft-spoken, uninterested in being a celebrity, and oddly comfortable in church, though she has had many differences over the years with organized religion. Dr. Saliers is a Methodist minister, Seminary professor, accomplished musician, and a wonderful man who loves his daughter. A friend of mine and I shared coffee with him one morning at the Starbucks on the campus of Emory University. When I told him that Emily's music played a part in my own coming to faith, he smiled, said "that's interesting," and reminded me of a line in one of the great hymns of the church, "Everywhere man can be, thou God art present there." His point: God refuses to be contained within labels such as "sacred" or "secular", but makes himself known in ways that surprise many.

On one of the most recent Indigo Girls albums, Emily sings these words:

There is fire and there is lust
Some will trade it all for someone they could trust
There's a bag of silver for a box of nails
It's so simple, the betrayal
Though it's known to change the world and what's to come.

Yes, the Gospel is indeed known to change the world. And don't be surprised if someday you are reminded of this fact by someone you least expect-- a grungy activist rock star who doesn't spend a lot of time in church, for example.

Everywhere

Two of my favorite musicians whose music has filled my ears and inspired my heart for the better part of my life are as follows: Rich Mullins and John Denver.

I first heard the music of Rich Mullins in 1990, and began falling it love with it in 1993 when my then wife-to-be put several of his songs on a "mixed tape" for me (yes, Shelley and I are that old). I've loved his work ever since.

My first exposure to John Denver's music is harder to pin-point, as some of my earliest memories involve hearing and singing his songs around the house and in the car. In fact, my mother informed me that she listened to him while I was in her womb. I've loved his work ever since.


On September 19th, 1997, Rich Mullins was killed in a car crash. Less than a month later, on October 12th, John Denver was killed in a plane crash.

I still remember exactly where I was and what I was doing on each of those days when I heard the tragic news. I remember sitting in silence pondering the events and wondering why it had happened. Shelley remembers me weeping.

For a few days I couldn't bring myself to listen to their songs, because when I did, it hurt.

But within a week I was listening to them again, and they began to penetrate my senses more deeply as I started reflecting on how these men lived their lives and approached their craft.

John did not claim to be a Christian. Though he experienced extraordinary times of love and happiness, his two marriages turned out to be tumultous, even violent at times. On more than one occasion his depression led him to drive while intoxicated. Some would ask what benefit there could possibly be in listening to the music of such a man. However, I never once felt that his music led me away from God and into sin. To the contrary, actually.

These words of his continue to stir me:

I have to say it now: It's been a good life, all in all.
It's really fine to have the chance to hang around.
To lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire
While all my friends and my old lady sit and watch the sun go down.
Talk of poems and prayers and promises, and things that we believe in.
How sweet it is to love someone, how right it is to care;
How long it's been since yesterday, but what about tomorrow?
What about our dreams and all the memories we share?

Those are the words of a man who understands that the best moments in life are ordinary, and that relationships are vital but complicated. Like King David and the other Psalmists, he was a man who understood the power of poetry, the importance of prayer, and the joy of believing promises.


Rich was a Christian, and believed that his music was a gift from God given to him to be a venue for telling others about the Good News of Jesus. He loved and served in the Church, but he wasn't a particularly churchy type. He wasn't big on pious cliches, programs, and strategic plans. And in spite of his popularity and financial success, he chose to give away everything he owned except the necessities he needed to live in a single-wide trailer on a Native American reservation in Kansas.

These words of his continue to stir me:

Well I can still hear my dad cussin'; he's working late out in the barn.
The Spring plants and comin', and the tractors just won't run.
Mom, she's done the laundry; I can see it wavin' on the line.
Now they've stayed together through the bait and the string of those times.
Talk about your miracles, talk about your faith.
Well my dad, he could make things grow out of Indiana clay.
Mom could make a gourmet meal out of just cornbread and beans.
And they worked to give faith hands and feet and somehow gave it wings.
Now they've raised five children; one Winter they lost their son.
But the pain didn't live the crippled and the scars that made them strong.
Never picture perfect. Just a plain man and his wife
Who somehow knew the value of hard work, good love, and real life.


Those also are the words of a man who understands that the best things in life are ordinary, that spirituality is earthy, and that there is a joyous freedom in being real and honest. Like King Solomon, he understood that life is sometimes complicated and messy, and like the apostle Paul he understood that Christ's strength is made perfect in weakness.

What I love most about these fine musicians is this: They both refused to be labeled. Rich did not want to be known as a Contemporary Christian artist, and John Denver did not want to be known as a secular Country artist. Indeed, both of their respective industries were never comfortable giving them such labels because their music simply did not fit with what was typical for any of those categories, whether sacred or secular. The reason I love this is because it testifies to what is perhaps one of the least discussed truths of the Bible: Everything is sacred. There is no line of separation between what is spiritual and what is secular. In the words of the Psalmist, "The earth is the Lord's and everything in it." In the words of Donald Barnhouse, "All of life illustrates Bible doctrine." In the words of John Denver, "My heart so full of love for you sings praise for all I see". And in the words of Rich Mullins, "There is such a thing as glory, and there are hints of it everywhere."

I am not a pantheist or a universalist. I confess with the writers of the ancient creeds my belief in one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one Holy Church, but oh may God deliver us from trying to confine his glory to sacred churchy things.

Leonard Bernstein once said "When I listen to Beethoven's 5th, I can't help but believe that there is something in the universe that won't let me down."

When I listen to Rich Mullins and John Denver, I can't help but believe that there is such a thing as glory, and that there are hints of it everywhere.

Everywhere.

I Will Ease Your Mind

In June of 2004 I spent 5 days in downtown Pittsburgh at our yearly denominational meeting (known as General Assembly), which I always enjoy. On the second morning of the trip I was walking from my hotel to the Convention Center where that day's meetings were soon to begin. As I crossed a busy street bustling with taxi cabs and cell phone occupied business people dressed in ways that didn't make sense in the humid sizzle of a Pittsburgh Summer, I saw something in front of the famous Melon Arena that widened my sweat-stinging eyes: a flashing sign which read "Simon and Garfunkel in concert tonight".

Could this be happening? One of my all-time favorite music duos actually giving a concert across the street from my hotel?

In 2004? The same guys who reached their height of fame and parted ways before I was even born?

I walked up to the ticket booth of the Melon Arena, bought one of the few remaining tickets, and returned that night feeling only a slight twinge of guilt that I was missing the evening worship service back at the Convention Center. The concert began at 8 p.m. Words will never do justice in describing what took place in the arena that night. It was two and a half hours of sheer beauty, celebration, and euphoria. The high point of the evening came with the dramatic performance of Bridge Over Troubled Water, as I and 20,000 others were powerless at holding back the tears.

When I arrived back at the hotel I asked a pastor friend of mine how the worship service went. He rolled his eyes and responded, "The sermon message was essentially 'Sin is bad, so don't do it. If you keep doing it, God will find out and you'll be sorry.'" I responded, "I see. How was the music?" He answered, "We sang dirges with archaic vocabulary and minimal instrumentation." He was clearly troubled and uneasy about the evening. I took the elevator up to my room, plopped on the bed and thought to myself, "I listened to two old Jewish guys passionately sing lines such as 'Jesus loves you more than you will know', and 'When tears are in your eyes I will dry them all... Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind, I will lay me down'. Now you may say that's unfair, and that communicating God's love is not what Paul and Art had in mind when they wrote these songs. And you're probably right. But I tell you this: it eased my mind. It reminded me that though sin IS bad and we SHOULD be sorry for it, God provided a better remedy than simply telling us not to do it. He sent a substitute, One who actually did say "I will lay down my life for you". I will lay me down. I love you more than will know. Believing this is not only the wheel that turns us from our sin, but the bridge that continues to hold us when we do sin, promising to bring us past the troubled, murky water in our hearts.

Yes, seeing Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel eased my mind. Perhaps this is the ease of mind that another Jewish writer (also named Paul), who became a Christian in mid-life, was referring to when he wrote to a church in Philippi, "And the peace of God which passes all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."