“You know that people
They are driftin’ from do’ to do’
But they can’t find no heaven”
Skip James Hard Time Killin’ Floor Blues
Today my eldest boy asked me about the blues. A question I have been waiting to hear for many years and one I could never fully answer adequately. I simply delved into a box that had not seen the light of day since my conversion. I pulled out an old CD, blew off the dust on the casing and played it in the car.
As we listened I began to weep and my son asked me why? After a contemplative pause my reply was “Christ”.
The Blues (specifically Delta) was once my secret passion, hidden behind my headphones on the long commutes to work.
Before I came to Christ, my identity was lost in the deceit of this world, a pressure that I once revelled in. I would happily hide behind a mask of falsity and would judge myself (and others) based on my lusts, greed and pride (the common drivers of fallen men). The Delta Blues did not fit the arrogance of “my brand”, the “me” I wanted the world to see, so my passion for it remained my little secret.
I listened in solitude and it gave me a welcomed escape.
There is nothing like the Delta Blues, no genre so honest, rough and raw. The recordings are pure and capture not only the instrumentation but the soul of the room. There is no falsity to the music, no added production, special effects or synthesised noise. Nothing between the microphone and my cans, nothing between me and the artist.
After a long day I could be stood cold and wet on a dark winters evening, hungry and tired awaiting for a replacement bus service, but with my eyes closed and simply listening, I was sat in the warm in front of; Skip James, Robert Johnson or Sonny Boy Williams. The recordings I had on my playlist gifted me each breath before a harmonica bend, preserved every crackle of the throat and retained the sound of every finger lifting up from the fret board. This rich honesty captured in sound gave me a welcomed break from my fake life and a bogus world that defines us all by what we consume and produce.
Fast forward to today, by God’s Grace I am now a Christian. I am sat in the car next to my eldest son, listening once more to Furry Lewis and I was taken back to that time of need and the man I once was. A man so far from God and desperate for truth. I wept under the forgotten yet familiar sound of the Delta Blues. But not because of its honesty, purity, or soulfulness, no! I wept in the understanding that all of this beauty that I was hearing (and all that it once meant to me) is nothing compared to the wonders of what I now have in the God man Jesus of Nazareth.
Jesus the Christ is life and serenity, purity and peace, the personification of all that is good, He is the embodiment of mercy, the quintessence of sacrificial love and the light in the darkness of this corrupt word. He is the answer, He is the escape, He is the way and the truth and He is mine.
He is the message of Christianity, a message often ignored by common assumption. Christianity is not a religion, or a philosophy, neither a state of mind, it is not a feeling, or a list of laws and principles, neither is it a corporation or bureaucracy. Christianity is a person, a real person to love and have a relationship with, a person to share and cast your burdens on, a person who gave His all to save you from yourself and this world. A totally unique, historical and living person whose love can flow into the most broken of vessels (such as I) and pour out in such abundance that He can even take hold of you, the reader, through these humble words.
I pray that you will see the world for what it really is and Come to love the one who loved us first (1 John 4:19).
I will leave you with some Furry Lewis (not the song that we heard today, but more fitting for this blog).