I have finally written a new song!
The last song I wrote was Everything’s Lies – almost exactly four years ago after having wasted a night watching late-night TV. After a couple hours of infomercials, sensationalist newscasts (America was marching to Iraq) and Evangelists Gone Wild I lost the ability to distinguish between the different shows and now recall the evening as a haze- drenched, postmodern collage of shameless hucksters just tryin’ to make a dishonest livin’.
So I wrote: Everything’s lies / isn’t it swell / sex in a silver cup / serve it up with the televangel / no worries here/ trust the t.v. / there’s nothing of consequence / with God on a leash.
Shortly after that night I found myself in Palestine/Israel visiting several Palestinian Christian communities and organizations in the West Bank. There I witnessed first hand the malevolent raw power of a military occupation designed to slowly squeeze the life out of an entire people. The trauma of what I witnessed, along with the shame of belonging to a people group who have largely supported this brutality, shut me down. I really haven’t known what to say since. I’ve spent countless hours reading about the Middle-East; politics and history. I’ve read tons on Islam. Specifically I have read many accounts of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict and recently took a course on the same topic.
But I can’t fix it. And so one grieves. One grieves one’s own limitations. One grieves the incomprehensability of God. One grieves the particular moms and dads and children in other lands whose lives are ruptured by violence.
Last week I was reading the latest GEEZ magazine. Under the heading, The Luxury of Hope, editor Will Braun asks if our religion and spirituality are deep enough to “contemplate catastrophe.” It reminded me of when my daughter was six or seven years old. One night she couldn’t sleep because she was afraid a “bad man” might break in and hurt her. I reassured her that Jesus loved and her wouldn’t let anything bad happen. As she began to dry her tears she looked up at me and asked if, then, Jesus doesn’t love the children who do get hurt.
Shame on me.
Later (in the same, aforementioned GEEZ magazine) in a beautifully written piece called The Washing, Jessie Van Eerden recalls being interrupted while doing laundry, which she eloquently understands as redemptive work. A phone call from her father informs her that her cousin Billy has committed suicide:
It shakes me to the core, Billy’s quiet death.
There is good work to do.
There is good work to do.
Indeed.
Here is the song…
and the lyrics…
In Billy’s Wake lyric by Steve Bell and Jessie Van Eerden
We’re not alone
laundry awash in the mid-morning sun
you can see angels dance as they try blouses on
there is good work to do
We’re not alone
casting long shadows as the day wears on
Billy had troubles, now Billy is gone
there is good work to do
kissing eyelids closed like caskets
breaking bread and filling baskets
pressing dress and swabbing soiled floors
fast remains of feast and fanion
evidence of ghost companions
greeting some and showing some the door
we’re not alone
wordlessly stung by a sliver blue moon
closed casket wake in a cold living room
there is good work to do
Posted on July 16th
Hey Steve,
A few years back I would have offered some nice platitude, and said keep on smiling, but, even though I am myself still smiling, I have found that there is also that aspect of life that has to learn how to grieve in the midst of a hopefull heart. In the last several years I;ve had a son injured in Iraq, a good friend die in his sleep at 50, and one whom I had hoped to marry come down with demetia, and ask me to not be around. All of these caused me to return to my roots, try to come back to that first love. In my case faith first, and then music. Even though I haven’t actually written down any of the thoughts GOd has been speaking, I have allowed them to percolate, to touch that grief, and, I think,. educate it. Let me encourage you to let those words, that I know God has been speaking to you, become the children of those questions you’ve been asking. I think we need ones like yourself, John Michael Talbot, and Michael Card, to speak the hard things that we may not be able to say for ourselves. The things that are left unsaid when our mind starts to leave us, when sickness tries to take over our worl;d, when desperation leads us into the dark places of life, you know, those hard things to say. I also believe that out of those things rise up songs of real worship, sometimes just “Holy, Holy, Holies” if nothing else at all. I will keep you in my prayers that tGod will open up a new flow of music that will touch deep into His presence, and reflect Truth as a person! Thanks you for your honest and searching heart.
Posted on February 23rd
Steve wrote: “I think many of us grew up with a paradigm that subtlety suggested if we do things right, things will go well – belief and right living will ward off disaster. …”
Steve, I think this mindset is clearly taught all throughout the Old Testament. I see it everywhere. In fact, isn’t it expressed in many of the psalms? And certainly Job and his “comforters” all seemed to be washed in this world-view – at least at the beginning of that book.
Jesus boldly challenged that entire approach to life. But I find we Christians keep clinging to it. I guess it’s our “need” to feel in control?
Personally it terrifies me to realize that (as you say) “… my faith isn’t sufficient to ward off disaster…” And probably not even, “…sufficient to keep me contributing melody, hope and love in the midst of it…”
But I think this is okay. It reminds me that in the end it doesn’t depend on me anyway…
Posted on September 30th
There is much in this world to remind us of our helplessness. I’m feeling it too. Mother Teresa felt it… among others. None of us are God. But we’re called to live integrity, even if that means ‘we live by faith, not by sight’, not blinding letting life happen, but being led by the only One who isn’t helpless, and being open to the moments we needn’t feel helpless and can choose active integrity, integrity in action. I heard your promo disc for the Symphonies tour, Steve, and heard again, with new details, about your vocational call in Manila. "I have trained your fingers for battle… your hands for works of righteousness… battles will be fought and won that you know nothing about…" That’s as much for all of us. If we humbly seek God’s will, and live, in integrity, that will, to the best of our ability, we may not do anything apparently earth-shaking, but we ‘allow God to be present’ (not that He needs our permission, but…), because we say our little "yeses", our ‘fiats’, because we are not choosing to un-invite Him, to shut Him out. He’ll do the rest. Maybe I’ve shared this in the conversation years ago, not sure, but I had an insight some time ago on the meaning of the word "suffer"… to "allow", as opposed to "agony" which is to struggle against. Not that it’s about ignoring the sufferings imposed on others, as if someone else’s suffering is redemptive (…easy for us to say of someone else!…) but rather, what am I willing to give up for the sake of another? for the sake of allowing God to be present? Am I rambling? maybe.
Posted on June 4th
Love it, love it, love it. Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you.
I am so glad the dam broke, and so happy you let me hear this.
More, more, more (please!)…
Love from,
J
Posted on May 18th
The history of the world – certainly for Christians, has always included “profound disappointments and … frightening days ahead…” – hasn’t it? Having been in the midst of my own struggles with this, I’ve concluded that part/most of this angst is the sound of my own bubble bursting as I pass from the secure-but-illusional cradle of Canadian utopia into a larger, more frightening, and real world. It’s a world where I marvel at the evil perpetrated by we humans on ourselves, those around and all creation, and yet I’m lifted up and sustained by the promises. “Faith, Hope and Love. And the greatest of these is Love.”
And I find myself singing and longing more than ever… “Even so Lord Jesus, come!” … Thank God for music and his singers. Thanks, Steve.
Posted on April 15th
I think many of us grew up with a paradigm that subtlety suggested if we do things right, things will go well – belief and right living will ward off disaster. It’s not like our parents taught this, but it is embedded in much of the culture (songs, programs etc) that fashioned us.
So then what do we do when catastrophe comes? What if the environment actually does collapse in our lifetime. What if a smart bomb actually does detonate in Manhattan? What if AIDS wipes out Africa while we watch America’s Next Top Model? What if the State of Israel (with the support of Canadian gov’t and churches) succeeds in destroying Palestinian life? What if our children don’t find faith, or a way to succeed and be happy? What if one of my children succumbs to despair and takes his or her life? What if I’m insufficient to secure happiness for those I love?
I suppose I’m dealing with my own profound disappointments and suspicion that deeply sad and perhaps frightening days are ahead. If my faith isn’t sufficient to ward off disaster – then is it sufficient to keep me contributing melody, hope and love in the midst of it?
Posted on April 15th
Wow, steve. What a hard song. Well written and poetically beautiful. But in the context of your blog, realizing that horrible things happen that are not only out of our control but seem to be unanswered by the all powerful God we follow. If i’m right what you’re saying is that even in the wake of the worst news (in this case billy’s sad end made even worse by self violence) there are still good things that we can do in this life…love one another, love the unlovable, bind the wounds of the broken, etc. Am i right? It is a hard place to be to acknowledge the pain and brokenness we see everyday and still live our lives as a gift. Beautiful song. Even if I’m wrong.