music

Sing Me Something for the Dark Dark Dark: Stepping into Fall with Gregory Alan Isakov

/ Bo / 3 Comments

The first true cold front of the season has rolled in from the Midwest, putting a welcome chill to our skin after months of swelter and sweat. It’s the time of woodsmoke and raining leaves. We can see our own breaths in white wisps, and just like every autumn, I hear the plinking, twanging conversation between guitar and banjo. The time has come, once again to say…

“Alexa, shuffle songs by Gregory Alan Isakov.”

Liturgical Christians – at least the ones I know – are people of tradition. We find encouragement, strength, comfort, and inspiration in repetition. In my church, the Venite, the Collect, and the Order for Holy Communion are each repeated weekly not so that they become routine words and rote movements, but because each one is skeletal – giving form to our souls in the same way my spine and pelvis and femur give form and shape to my body – or, to switch from an anatomical metaphor to an architectural one, because each one is load bearing – holding up the otherwise crushing weight of time itself, how it matures us while simultaneously pushing down upon us, gradually hunching our shoulders and shriveling our skin, pressing us toward ground and grave. 

This, of course, is the reality of time, that our passage within it is ephemeral. And yet, this need not be a dark thought. The seasons themselves can, even in their constant passing, train us to embrace both the joys and the griefs of time. 

We may track the slow march of time by counting minutes and hours, by numbering calendars and adding candles to the yearly birthday cake. We redeem time, however, not by counting, but by embracing the value of tradition. 

The Christian year is perhaps the best example. To tell the old, old story of redemption anew each year, we recurrently erect Ebenezers of hope within the temporal turning of the seasons. Advent’s candles, Epiphany’s feast, Lent’s ashes, Holy Week’s sepulcher – each one calls pilgrims to contemplate anew their relationship with the Savior and recalibrate their focus on the movements of His Spirit.  

Sometimes we eat a pig, too.

But there are also secular liturgies that can assist us in the hallowing of earthly time. For instance, summer officially begins for my family with a road trip through the Appalachians to visit family in Shenandoah, and then from those grand, green hills we move on to the sea-sprayed coasts of Maine. For us, the warmth and brightness of summer, with all its blazing possibilities, is typified in an early June sun shimmering upon the vast blue Atlantic water. 

Then there is Advent and Christmastide. The atmosphere has finally turned – and stayed – colder, and, personally, I don’t believe this time is fully honored without the syrupy strains of Burl Ives and Bing Crosby, nor the powdery grit of baking flour crusting my fingertips.

And yet, there is perhaps no segment of the year I anticipate and enjoy more than the start of fall. Leaves cracking underfoot, checkmarks and symmetrical Vs crossing the blue sky, pumpkins and absurdly macabre ornamentations erected on front lawns. As the foliage ages from verdant green to yellow to coral to brown, it’s as if the season is asking us to reflect again on the impermanence of life, while nonetheless observing the beauty inherent in one’s latter days. There is a kind of dignified melancholy that hangs in the mild air, that weaves itself into the fabric of autumn’s early sunsets and chilly dusks. This is a remarkably short-lived season, always arriving long after you’re ready for it, yet departing well before you’re done savoring it.

Slow down!

Time, she says,
“There’s no turning back,
Keep your eyes on the tracks.”
Through the fields, somewhere there’s blue
Oh, time will tell, she’ll see us through. 

This is why I officially mark the start of fall with the music of Gregory Alan Isakov. More than any I have found, in his echoey acoustic strains as much as his naturalistic lyrics, I believe his music captures the unique feeling of autumn – its beauty and its wistful melancholy. A South African immigrant from the Apartheid era, Isakov originally sought a degree in horticulture, but found unexpected success with his guitar and his brief, delicate songs about lost loves, complicated relationships, quiet rage, and lonely, moonlit highways. Each one of his songs sounds as if it was composed while walking in an autumn-colored wood, with lyrics that strike as efficiently and elegantly as a Wendell Berry poem, or an Edward Hopper painting. 

It’s like you say all the time
World has lost its mind
Between you and I, I know
That I’ve lost mine

As he sings these words on “Appaloosa Bones,” the title track of his most recent album, the listener feels the incurious hopelessness that visits so many of us in these colder months. But then the simple, affectionate wonder of the chorus follows:

Was I that gone?
Man, I hope not
Glad you found me
When you did

I mark the start of fall with all sorts of little traditions, whether it’s regularly lamenting the perpetual mediocrity of Baylor football, meticulously cleaning out our little sitting room fireplace, or dipping into the spooky short stories of Edgar Allen Poe, M.R. James, or Ray Bradbury. But of all these annual, load-bearing tentpoles that hold up the heaviness of time and grant me the space to look and listen and breathe deeply, there is no tradition I love more than listening to Gregory Alan Isakov’s quiet consternation at the two-sidedness of this life – the beauty and the sorrow – and his admirable willingness to take both their hands, join them together, and celebrate their inseparable bond.

“Won’t you sing me something for the dark, dark, dark?”

Isakov repeats these words again and again in one of his most popular songs. It may read on the page as a gloomy line, but when introducing the song in concert, he says with a smile, “This is probably the happiest song I’ve written.”

Indeed, Gregory. And thank you for being such an important part of my fall traditions – for helping me love the browning leaf as much as the budding rose. The Lord God made them both, and called it good.

The Curious Case of Kanye West

/ Bo / Leave a comment

I’ve given up trying to have hip musical tastes. Life’s too short. I’m a month shy of 40, and I just want to listen to what I like. So, that usually means the Americana stylings of The Avett Brothers, the acoustic-driven songs of Gregory Alan Isakov, Josh Ritter, or Iron and Wine, or the smooth folk-jazz of Over the Rhine. I no longer concern myself with the Top 40 or the zeitgeist of pop, R&B, or hip-hop. As popular as these genres are, they don’t entertain or inspire me.

Hip-hop in particular was difficult to get into. I mean, I like “Lose Yourself,” but who doesn’t? I tried listening to Kendrick Lamar’s Damn after it won a Pulitzer, but it just didn’t resonate. It’s not that I think hip-hop is a lesser genre. It’s just never been my cup of tea.

music taste

The fact that I use the idiom “cup of tea” may be its own indicator.

Because of this, I have little interest in listening to Jesus is King by Kanye West.

Apparently that’s what every Christian under 45 years of age has been doing the last couple of weeks. If you haven’t heard, Kanye West has become a Christian, and he just released an album expounding upon his newfound faith. He has also stated he will retroactively adjust lyrics from past albums to make them less offensive.

As an exercise in theological evaluation, I suppose I am curious how exactly a notoriously narcissistic hip-hop star articulates the gospel after his conversion? Are his lyrics biblically sound or rough around the doctrinal edges? Is Scripture treated with reverence and respect, or culturally proof-texted to make a predetermined point? Then again, these are questions we should be asking of any album intended to proclaim the truth of the gospel.

My musical tastes will likely prevent me from asking Alexa to fill my kitchen with Kanye’s sick-yet-gospelized beats. Sorry, Kanye. However, I’m not wholly indifferent to news of your conversion. In fact, I’m far more curious about how our culture is treating that than the reviews of your latest studio effort.

What’s Really Going on Here?

It’s not Kanye’s new album, but rather his alleged conversion and the Church’s response to it, that intrigues me. I include “alleged” simply because I do not know Kanye, nor do I know the individuals in his life who claim to have witnessed his surrender to the gospel. I hope that his decision to follow Jesus as “King” is genuine. If it is, I believe it should be celebrated. After all, while I’m not hip enough to quote any of his lyrics, I’m familiar with enough pop culture to know Kanye’s reputation has been anything but humble and compassionate. Christians are right to celebrate when the gospel transforms a life, when a once self-involved individual starts serving the local church.

kanyeinterupts

“I’mma let you finish, Pastor, but first, would the parents of Caleb Williams make your way to the nursery? He ate too many graham crackers and got a tummy ache…”

But here’s the thing: I’m not sure we can call what a lot of Christians are doing in relation to Kanye West’s conversion a celebration of the gospel. Perhaps this is a slip toward cynicism on my part, but what social media posts and religious publications are saying about Kanye’s life-change seem more akin to when your favorite sports team acquires a quality first-round draft pick. It feels like some of us are cheering the success of a team, instead of the power of the gospel. Meanwhile, the other side (the skeptical ones) are quick to doubt the conversion based on any number of assumptions.

We do this a lot, actually. For decades, Christians in America (particularly evangelicals) have struggled with the concept of celebrities professing faith. Sometimes this is a known Christian who becomes more active on the secular stage (think musicians like Amy Grant and P.O.D., or politicians such as Mike Huckabee and Jesse Jackson). When this happens, Christians quickly split into two main camps – those who applaud the person’s courageous choice to exemplify faith to a dark world, and those who question the genuineness of the person’s faith, instead labeling them either a sell-out or an apostate.

annoyed

“They’re playing “Meant to Live” on the secular rock station. Switchfoot is dead to me now.”

This divide also surfaces when news breaks that a known celebrity has professed faith in Christ (e.g., Alice Cooper, Justin Bieber, the dude from Korn) or has been “outed” as a believer (e.g., Stephen Colbert, MC Hammer, Chris Pratt). Again, the camps form. Some Christians celebrate the person’s radical choice to turn from the wide gate and instead walk the narrow road of faith. Others scratch their heads and question whether the person’s faith is actually authentic. This is what we’re currently experiencing in the curious case of Kanye West.

In Search of Legitimacy

Often, when popular celebrities are revealed to be people of faith, this tends to legitimize them in the eyes of many believers. A kind of “team pride” dynamic emerges within Christian circles. Whether it’s Bob Dylan, Mel Gibson, or Kanye West, a lot of people feel the need to look back over a person’s career and point to moments that seem to indicate faith in the gospel, or at least an openness to it (“C’mon, man. Don’t you remember “Jesus Walks” from Dropout…“). Inevitably, some newfound fans will compare the newly converted to a certain Pharisee who experienced his own dramatic change of direction. They’re convinced that this one-time enemy of the faith is now a child of the light who will quite possibly have the same worldwide impact as Saul of Tarsus. After all, just consider their well-established platform, and all those current fans ripe for conversion now that their hero has surrendered to the gospel.

stoning of paul the apostle

That’s how things worked out for Saul, right?

While some of these hopes lie in the realm of the possible, there are some troubling implications to them as well. First, it assumes the spread of the gospel is based as much in popularity as it is in relationship. Joe Schmo may be able to win a couple close friends to Jesus, but imagine how many lives will be touched when Bieber brings Hillsong United on his next tour. There’s no comparing which person will spark the next Great Awakening.

Second, we’re quick to celebrate a profession of mind, but are rarely interested in considering a subsequent change of action. Usually, this is because we don’t want to appear judgmental. However, Scripture reminds us many times over that faith devoid of action can hardly be called genuine. Jesus asked, “Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit” (Mt. 7:16-17). And James reminded the Church, “Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like” (Ja. 1:22-24). He would later go on to point out that a profession of belief is not enough. “Even the demons believe,” he wrote (2:19).

Now, I’m not saying we should subject new believers to unreasonable scrutiny – especially those we’re acquainted with only through a pop-culture lens. Formation in the Spirit is a lifelong process. Neither am I advocating we should pounce on a believer’s missteps as proof of illegitimate faith. We must remember, though, that it is a Christian’s life that testifies to the truth of salvation, not just a Christian’s mouth.

When holding out for this form of evidence from an allegedly converted celebrity is considered divisive, we have a problem. But the choice to wait-and-see is very often labeled as cynical, judgmental, or even the biggest insult one can throw at a fellow Christian: pharisaical.

bttf

It’s considered offensive and uncouth for Christians to express skepticism at stories of famous people professing faith. Elvis Presley, Tyler Perry, Deion Sanders, every other country music singer… Questioning the authenticity of a celebrity’s profession of faith (true repentance or just a passing fad) often gets you accused of overly pietistic faith. “Someone has come along who can, by his mainstream appeal, validate Christian devotion!” some say. “But look at all the spiritual party-poopers threatened by what they can’t understand.”

I know I do not feel threatened by Kanye’s profession of faith. I’m not even sure what “side” I’m on. I’m certainly not with the doubters. If anything, I’m cautiously optimistic that his is genuine repentance. What I’m waiting for, though, is spiritual fruit, which Jesus reminds all of us is the evidence of true faith. An album called Jesus is King isn’t enough, just as Slow Train Coming and Saved weren’t enough for Dylan. There is more to following Jesus than writing a handful of Christ-themed songs.

What I am threatened by – or perhaps the better word is “concerned” – are those who defend a celebrity’s conversion not out of any actual familiarity with the person, but rather out of a desire to protect the legitimacy they feel a famous person’s faith now gives their own. If Dylan or Bieber or Kanye can be Christians, that must mean my own faith is not incompatible with the mainstream. Christians can be cool. The Church is back, baby!

pouting

“If Lady Gaga would go to church a little more, maybe Mom would let me listen to her albums…”

The Idolatry of Image

While our first experience of repentance may resonate in our very bones, it remains no simple task to follow Jesus daily. In twenty years of ministry, I’ve witnessed countless conversions – people prostrating themselves before sanctuary altars, teenagers walking aisles in tears, all-night conversations with skeptics who finally, in the wee hours of the morning, bow their heads in humble recognition of the Great Mystery. These were powerful moments all.

And yet, I need only glance at my Facebook feed to recognize not every one of these once-repentant souls are currently bearing spiritual fruit. While many lives were radically changed, others never really were. Some who passionately professed belief and spoke words of surrender returned to their old ways not long after that experience. A few have walked away from faith altogether, chalking up their conversion experience to naïveté or ignorance.

The point of this post is not to dismiss the genuineness of confession, nor is it to ponder whether one can lose his or her salvation. I’m merely pointing out that repentance, while central to our salvation, is only step one. Being remade by the Spirit is actually a lifelong process, and to be a true spiritual leader of others requires a lot more than having a built-in platform. There is good reason why Saul backed away from public life for three years before finally engaging with the apostles in Jerusalem (Gal. 1:15-18). Conversion is a glorious bloom, but if it’s going to blossom then a commitment to grow in faith – to be corrected, trained, and formed by the truth – must be joined with it. Saul of Tarsus did indeed have an extraordinary impact on the spread of the gospel, but that impact was not immediate. Several years passed between the Damascus Road and his first missionary excursion.

I have no reason to discredit Kanye’s fervor for the gospel, nor do I doubt the lyrics in Jesus is King come from a genuine passion for his Savior. However, what I know the man needs now is the opportunity and the space to grow in his faith, especially considering the materialistic, self-seeking celebrity culture in which he has lived for so long. Good trees don’t bear good fruit overnight.

Death-Valley-Mojave-National-Preserve-30

Saul went to Arabia. Maybe Kanye should spend three years in the Mojave.

We in the Church have a bad habit of making idols out of famous converts. To pin our hopes to their redeemed coattails and bask in the glow of our own newfound legitimacy. We would do better to treat these people like the young brothers and sisters in Christ they actually are. We should pray for them, and pray against the onslaught of temptation, the whispers of the Evil One who will try to tell them they were just going through a phase, just experiencing a moment of weakness, when they offered that sinner’s prayer.

So, maybe I should give Jesus is King a listen. Kanye’s beats may not be my cup of tea, but, while I don’t know the man personally, that doesn’t mean I can’t pray for him to grow and to learn and to prosper. And it doesn’t mean I can’t change the way I respond to these reports of celebrities who profess faith – entrusting each one to the Lord, and calling upon his name and his influence to bring about the furthering of his purposes.

It’s in Jesus and Jesus alone I place my trust. After all, as Kanye’s album reminds us, he is the King.