Song Story: "One Love," Creating Art with Purpose

This song story is not like the kind you'll usually read.  This story doesn't include a dark night of the soul followed by divine revelations he moves you to tears. There's no majestic scene inspiring spontaneous worship of God's majesty.  There's no lament turned to rejoicing. Those are all real and possible precursors to great songs, but this is a very different kind of story, but I've learned through it is no less important and worth sharing.

Let's set some context. As an artist I know that there are times when inspiration just shows-up. I can't explain why it happens, exactly where it comes from, or certainly how to achieve it on demand. I can only acknowledge that when it occurs, its magical. You know it, and it's a gift to be thankful for.  But being an artist is more than waiting for inspiration, it also requires skill, practice, and the will to put these to work to say what needs to be said. This is that kind of story.

True art has to be an honest expression of our heart.  Most would readily agree with this. However, where I think we sometimes limit ourselves is in believing that this means ALL our artistic work has to originate in us. That is the pressure under which many of us ultimately buckle. The fact is, inspiration can come from everyone and everything around us. Something we read, something we hear, something we see or experience. Everything. What we do as artists in fact, is often less about developing ideas and more about interpreting them in ways that resonate with us and others in new ways. At its best, this kind of work often ends-up illuminating things that others might miss.

"One Love" originates in this place, outside my comfort-zone. Rather than coming without warning and seemingly out of pure inspiration, this song was an intentional work born out of need.  My home church was embarking on a deep exploration on the topic of Christian community, a coordinated six-week effort encompassing the Sunday messages and small group ministries. Naturally, we wanted our musical worship to draw people into the topic as well. Looking at the teaching materials planned, I didn't see  many obvious matches in the commercial music readily available. A few reasonable choices, but nothing that captured the essence of our theme directly. So, in response I set out to write a song for this topic specifically. At the time, this was a new way for me to approach songwriting. I'd written commercial instrumental tracks before, but had never been called to write lyrics "to-spec," so to speak. This would be a new challenge.

The approach I took was two-fold. First of all, I set out to get to know the study material that had been written for small groups in order to thoroughly understand the focus of the program. Next, I dove into the scripture referenced and related to the topic. This took some time for sure, but it was indispensable in developing a full understanding, and ultimately passion, for the topic and what it meant for our community. Since my goal was a song that could be used for multiple weeks, I wanted to write something that would highlight the theme broadly. In the end, passages from Matthew, Acts, Romans and Ephesians proved most influential.

I make no claim that this song is anything particularly special. But it was useful and effective in creating a musical connection to the topic. And as we know, songs are sticky. They are often what we take with us out of the service and into our week.  When the pastor teaching the series first heard the song in rehearsal his comment was, "that song puts in three minutes what it takes me an hour to say!"

Mission accomplished.

In reflecting on the process, I've realized that it's exactly the concept Jesus spoke about in Luke 6:45, "the mouth speaks what the heart is full of."  I was filling my heart in hopes of having something worth saying. Another way to see it perhaps, is giving the Spirit raw material to use within you.

Though initially born of intent and study, the actual process of writing was ultimately consistent with how I'd worked in the past. Words and music came simultaneously, and relatively quickly in first draft form. As often happens for me, the lyrics continued to evolve in the weeks that followed as I learned the song, rehearsed it, and used it live. (In fact, after not playing it for a couple of years I did it recently and STILL revised one line. Creative license ;)

I share this story to illustrate a point I think is very important for those of us who fancy ourselves artists. Inspiration sometimes just comes, and it's a beautiful experience when it happens. But that's not the only path to creativity. To practice art as a craft means developing skills and habits that create the fertile ground within us from which inspiration can germinate. It doesn't happen by accident. Perhaps most often, it's the result of intentional choices to learn and grow as people. After all, how else are we going to really even have something worth saying?

On coffeeshops, death, belief, and listening

I love coffee houses. Important conversations happen there. Sometimes you're a part of them, and sometimes you just overhear them. Now I don't intentionally eavesdrop, mind you, but sometimes you can't help it.  Today was one of those days, and the conversation I heard sparked thoughts I think are worth considering. So now, not only did I overhear a private conversation, but I'm sharing it over the Internet. Be careful what you say in coffee shops ;)

The context as best I could gather is this.... Someone has died after a relatively long illness. A memorial is being planned. The two people seated next to me are mutual friends of the deceased and have been given the responsibility of planning the remembrance.  Though acquaintances previously, I don't get the feeling they know each other very well, but they both were both very close with the man who died. Close enough, that they each had extensive conversations with him about what was coming after death.  One of these people was very open about her Christian faith and the importance of sharing it openly. The other referred to himself as irreligious and was openly not interested in faith and actually had an aversion to it.  Both were VERY passionate about their perspectives, to the point they had a very hard time communicated. There was a lot of awkward silence. Where this story gets interesting is in the fact they were each evidently told very different things by their dying friend about what HE believed... and within hours of each other.  Each of them, both speakers at the memorial, thought it was important that what the dying man said about his view of the afterlife be shared at his memorial... creating a natural conflict. This dominated their conversation over coffee.

Bare in mind the man evidently had expressed great distress about his impending death. He was not at peace with it.  This prompted each friend to share their beliefs with him. One shared a very traditional Christian view and stressed the importance of repentance and belief in Jesus, the other admitted complete  uncertainly but nonetheless communicated confidence that the outcome would be good.  The irony is that though they spoke with the same dying man within hours of each other and within days of his death, they were each told what they wanted to hear.  One heard the man confess his faith in Christ and pray for salvation. He then expressed peace, knowing he'd be going to Heaven.  The other delighted in how is friend agreed he was completely agnostic about the future, didn't really believe in a god, but expected whatever came next would be good because he'd "pretty much been a good person."  Both were anxious to use the memorial as an opportunity to share the "truth" the the man "believed" about the afterlife.  Regrettably, they each had a very different account of what that was, and the only one who could actually confirm the truth either way was now experiencing it first-hand, one way or the other.

Obviously, I have no way of knowing what the man actually believed.  But the tragic reality that struck me from this exchange is that neither do either of his close friends.  The man was very likely not completely honest about his beliefs with at least one, and possibly both of his friends.  This was their last conversation. It's sad it couldn't have been more transparent.

Why this is the outcome I cannot know, but given my witness of the two friends, I have a theory.  Both were very passionate about their convictions, divisively so.  The Christian was belittling of the agnostic man and insisted on referring to him as "pagan," a label he didn't embrace.  The agnostic clearly looked down on the Christian as forcing her beliefs on others and not sufficiently intellectual. Honestly, I could see how both were guilty as charged.  In fact, I believe the reality is the dying man quite likely simply told each what he thought they wanted to hear in order to escape the conversation, be at peace with his friends, and maybe make THEM feel a little better.  The result of course is that he likely received little comfort from either of them. Their final gift to him might very well have been confusion.  This I find tragic.

So what is there to learn from this?  I'd love to hear your thoughts.  What I take from it is that while it's important to be willing and able to share our faith, it's critical that we be equally if not better prepared to be listeners.