country music

As I write this, I am sitting in a familiar place. It’s a place I’ve been to many, many times.

It’s a funeral home.

To be honest, it’s not always been a place of sadness, at least not the kind I’m feeling today. No, many times it’s been quite the opposite, for “precious in the sight of the Lord are the death of His saints” (Ps. 116:15

But today is different.

Today I’m attending a “celebration of life” for a man I worked with. It’s a service of remembrance to celebrate the life and legacy of a well-loved individual. But nothing has ever been said about faith, not ever and not up until now.

So what about the next life?

The first song playing is “When I Get Where I’m Going.” It’s quite a sentimental piece that assures the listener that where the lost loved one is going will be wonderful. It’s got theological problems, but that a different issue.

But now there is a preacher speaking, and so far he’s speaking truth! That’s encouraging! What’s the outline? “Stand on the Truth That…”

God is Good
God Loves Us
God Will Help You

Amen, brother! That was certainly unexpected! A solid gospel message was delivered! I’m gonna find out who that preacher is and thank him for being so bold! (I did)

The last song now playing is “Go Rest High On the Mountain.” (Please, if you respect my wishes, threaten to hang anyone who suggests that song for my funeral.)

But where’s the real assurance that will happen? God only knows the heart of a man. The only guaranteed prescription for hope after this life is faith in the Person of Jesus Christ.

Was there faith? There could have been. Possibly. Nothing definite. No testimony to draw from and no mention of anything remotely religious in his life. Only God knows.

And that’s why there’s nothing for me to celebrate, only mourn. Not only is a decent man gone, but that’s it. Nothing else. No hope of eternity, only wishful thinking wrapped up in pseudo-religious country music.

I appreciate good music, regardless the genre. However, being from the South I should be one who regularly listens to country music, right?

Wrong.

You see, I like the style of country music (I should, considering I’m from Tennessee), but so much of what is passed off as “country” is nothing more than rock with a banjo or steel guitar. By the way, I don’t like steel guitar.

Also, I’m really big on lyrics, you know. Every song has a message, and these days country music if just as polluted with immorality and sacrilege as anything rock and roll puts out – it’s just that country music does it with a twang and sweet tea.

Is all country music bad? Of course not! But today I heard a couple of songs for the first time – because I don’t listen to country music on a regular basis – that literally made me angry.

“H.O.L.Y.”

The first song I heard come across the radio was by a group called Florida Georgia Line. By the spelling of the title I sorta knew what was coming was not going to be a remake of a famous hymn, and I was right. Actually, it followed the patter so many songs of late have been using: they take religious words and twist them into something with a sexual meaning.

In other words, they do just like what the Enemy has done with sex: Take something holy, beautiful, full of transcendent meaning, and pervert it.

For example, check out the second verse of “H.O.L.Y.”

You made the brightest days from the darkest nights
You’re the river bank where I was baptized
Cleanse all the demons
That were killing my freedom
Let me lay you down, give me to ya
Get you singing babe, hallelujah
We’ll be touching, we’ll be touching heaven

Now read the lyrics to the chorus, and you’ll get the meaning behind the title of the song.

You’re holy, holy, holy, holy
I’m high on loving you, high on loving you
You’re holy, holy, holy, holy
I’m high on loving you, high on loving you

And then here’s my favorite part:

You’re the healing hands where it used to hurt

You’re my saving grace, you’re my kind of church

You’re holy.

“My Church”

Then, just like the two were meant to follow each other, the next song started playing. It was a song by Maren Morris, “My Church.” I mean, why not, right?

Here is the first verse of “My Church”…

I’ve cussed on a Sunday
I’ve cheated and I’ve lied
I’ve fallen down from grace
A few too many times
But I find holy redemption
When I put this car in drive
Roll the windows down and turn up the dial

Now the chorus…

Can I get a hallelujah
Can I get an amen
Feels like the Holy Ghost running through ya
When I play the highway FM
I find my soul revival
Singing every single verse
Yeah I guess that’s my church

MY Church

The problem with so many lukewarm Christians is that they actually prefer Maren Morris’ church to an authentic, biblical gathering of believers who desire to worship in spirit and truth. They have been so accustomed to the hypocritical, dead, religious, white-washed sepulchers that churches have become, that they forget what a genuine one has to offer.

If you go to my church, you might hear someone sing the word holy, but it will be about a Holy God who is not mocked.

If you go to my church, you will find out about saving grace, but not the kind that rescues your libido; it’s the kind that’s truly amazing – the unmerited kind that can save your soul from death, hell, and the grave.

If you go to my church, you will find people who have cussed (maybe even on that Sunday), cheated, lied, and fallen, too. The only difference is that they’ve found redemption in the blood of Jesus Christ and have fallen into His hands.

If you go to my church, you may just hear a few hallelujah’s and amen’s, but the Holy Ghost will be real, not just a feeling. And, if you stick around long enough, you might find out what real “revival” is all about.

Yeah, that’s my church.

PS, I am preaching on depression this Sunday morning, so I will be saving parts of my outline and notes to use in future posts starting on Monday. I anticipate there will be several posts.