It never fails to astonish me how true it is, that words come to an end at some point. Yet once in a while, when that point has come, there’s still something in the artistry of a song (a soulful song) that can still portray that further thought, emotion, or searching. It’s beautiful. It’s impactful. It’s a wonderful recovery of beauty.
But we don’t always treat songs and words in this way. Often -too often- we make them into nonsense & nothingness. Too often we need only to fill the silence. Too often we make them to lie for us.
But a good song, or a good old acoustic guitar can’t lie.
When I was a teenager I love-love-loved music. I loved acoustic guitars. I love that imperfect squeak the make when the guitarist slides their hands down the fret board quickly. I loved the way the guitar seemed to tell on the person who was playing it. It was as if the guitar could say to me “this guy is only trying to impress girls” or “this guy doesn’t notice you standing there, but we have a song to wade through.” It was beautiful.
I always claimed that I’d fall in love with the guitar way before any ol guy, and it’s because music portray something utterly different than mere words alone. There is still honesty in music. There is still artistry in music. …Maybe not all music, but the fact that it’s still there in our age is a wondrous thing indeed.
However…the other day (such notorious words, aren’t they?) on my social media, I came across an article about why people don’t sing in church nowadays. Lipsync yes, sing no.
I knew I shouldn’t read the article. I knew I wouldn’t like it. I told myself not to click on it. I passed it three times, but ultimately… I gave in, I clicked, and I fumed.
Wouldn’t you know it? Not one of those reason listed on there was “They don’t believe you”. That wasn’t even a conceptual idea to those who commented in the article. Every one of the suggestions was more petty than the previous. It was astonishingly pale and pathetic and shallow beyond comprehension.
Let me make this clear:
Music is still alive. Sing is still belted out. When it comes from the soul, it is un-retainable. It will come out, wherever, however, whenever, as it pleases. Even when we don’t know the words, were into it. We feel it! We believe it. We are there.
Music hasn’t stopped reaching people.
There is yet to be every song written.
We haven’t even begun to get bored with sounds that come from ones core being.
Oh and…we ain’t done singing along yet. Believe me, if we don’t know the words, it won’t stop us. We can always hum.
So maybe…just maybe, it isn’t about the sound or style or loudness or harmonies. Because I’ve been to more than a few concerts, and none of which the crowd was silent or passively listening. No. Because when we hear our song, then we are compelled to belt it out. There’s no retaining the most honest feeling that one could feel.
Could it be that this is our problem? Honesty. Bare-soul music. Artistry with a reality behind it. Could be that the church system is so pop-culture that it’s turned itself solely to pop music and become the fluff that has cottoned the mouth and throats of its now listeners? Could be no one wants to waste more words on unrealities that we already suffer throughout the week? Could it be that we just don’t believe you any more?
Chant as long as you like, you worship music propagandist, but you’re just wasting breath. Turn up the speakers, get animated, fake happiness and a spirit of worship. I read it all from here. I can smell it from here. And believe me, I have checked my watch twenty times in last two lines, waiting for this nightmare lullaby to end. When this time is over, I’m going to get in my car, turn on my song, a belt out our lyrics.
If the “church” has no songs left to sing, then yeah…there’s always Dropkick Murphy. As profane as they are, I believe them. I feel it too. I’ve been there, and somehow they wrote my song.
There’s always my own attempts of made up on the spot as I do gardening or dishes songs.
There’s always the good ol’ classic Project 86 or Jackie Wilson.
I am not at a lack for songs to sing. I am not at a lack of music that makes me dance. I’m not at a lack of finding a soulful honest piece of artistry, even in our modern age.
Music is still being made. There are songs yet to be sung. There are masses still cramming towards that stage to sing-a-long with the band, and to sing their song. We are still excited to hear our song being played one more time. Our soul still listens for that song that we are compelled to sing along with. If you don’t know it, then there’s always silence. For it will come. It will be heard. It will break upon us.
Inspiration is far from finished. Let us try again.