Monday Morning Music Ministry

9-8-25

Those who follow these weekly thoughts know that I occasionally obsess over language, grammar, and precise meanings. I realize that it sometimes is annoying – even to me, believe me. But I want to be understood when I speak and write; and so should we all.

There are many friendships and business partnerships and marriages that have blown up over misunderstandings; and many wars have broken out because of crummy communication. Too often. Needless.

English is full of linguistic land mines because it is the recipient of two major strains: Indo-European via Germanic; and Romance languages. This results in a potential for rich communication (despite contrary examples like Icelandic, which has 100 words for “wind”) but also leads to confusion. Germans and French are logical languages and scarcely permit exceptions to their rules. The French even have an official body, the Académie Française, that regulates usage and abusage of grammar, spelling, and literature.

In contemporary America… well, you suss where I’m at.

I am as much an observer of the American language as a practitioner, and sometimes a slave; a latter-day Diderot or Mencken in my own way. I am fascinated by memes for several reasons. They frequently summarize a thought, even substituting for longer explanations, often with heightened clarity. They are almost by definition clever and humorous or ironic. Many memes rely on a visual component, which pleases me as a cartoonist and illustrator.

Memes are paths to clarity, which has positive effects on social communication. But some of those paths have potholes and detours.

A friend of mine is one of the Internet’s wisest meme-mistresses. As Adri Ana she consistently posts terrific words and quotations and images that start the day with Good Morning coffees, and fill the day with humor, provocative thoughts, and wisdom. (Does that make her a “poster” girl?)

She recently posted one of Anaïs Nin’s most quoted passages: I weep because you cannot save people. You can only love them. You can’t transform them, you can only console them (“Nearer the Moon” from A Journal of Love: The Unexpurgated Diary, 1937-1939).

I am ambiguous about La Nin (that is, I agree with only some of her peripatetic thoughts: her emotional inconsistencies are compelling) but her statement is not pessimistic. It is where reality meets love, and compassion is the result. A reader of the meme’s post replied: Sure you can [save people], good advice at the right time is the difference between a bad choice and a good choice. Most of the bad choices happen when you don’t have someone to give you proper advice. Giving love is not enough.

Here is where language can seduce us into acceptance of perceived wisdom, but can dig some potholes. And it might cripple some peoples’ search for truth. Of course the subject under discussion is “save” – what is the definition? Physical? Emotional? Spiritual? For the moment? For eternity? “Saved” from what, and for what?

The pitfalls of English, and common misunderstandings. Many of us think that words are interchangeable when they are not. And some people respond, “Oh, you know what I mean,” when I don’t, and neither oftentimes does the speaker. Not guilty is very different than Innocent. To Dismiss is not to Forgive. A Reprieve is not a Commutation, nor a Pardon. And Saving someone has deeper implications and nuances than Rescuing them.

Nin advises “loving” and “consoling” as effective, and maybe definitive, alternates to “saving.” Yes, they are precious actions. For my part, responding to that, I have always resisted telling people I will keep them in prayer: it takes the same amount of time, and breaths, to actually pray with them on the spot. And God never advised postponing prayers, especially to fit our schedules of comfort zones.

Well, you knew I’d go spiritual on you. The words saved, salvation, and, you guessed it, Savior all have common roots, at least conceptually. Human beings, at all times and in all places, have myriad dissimilarities… except for one common aspect. We all need a Savior; we all have sinned; we all fall short of holy standards; and we all know this is the case, instinctively.

Anaïs Nin came close in her secular deconstruction. She says that love and consolation are decent substitutes; her correspondent replies that even love is not a sufficient response, suggesting palpable action. I think that we “cannot save people,” which made her weep, is a profound statement.

And that is what completes this discussion’s circle. The most intense compassion we can summon – the spiritual context – indeed cannot save anyone. We can love, we can forgive, we can excuse, we can pardon, we can rescue, and yes again, we can love. But we cannot save a single soul. They can seek salvation; they might accept salvation – but that is not ours to give.

God grants salvation; it is why He sent the Holy Spirit, to lead us to salvation. Through Him we accept Jesus, the “only way unto salvation.” All other ground is sinking sand. This proper understanding is not to denigrate our love for friends and family and humankind; but to think we have the power to save is an insult to God’s ways. We are to plant seeds; the Holy Spirit’s job description is to reap the harvest.

Properly speaking – to coin a phrase – it is a privilege to discern our places in God’s plan for humankind. Word up.

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Click: In the Garden

10-31-22

I was planning to write a message about Reformation Day, but this has been a week with many distracting events, some sad; and thoughts about reforming the church, confronting corruption, does not need an anniversary-day to assert its relevance. Next week.

Among the sad events of this week was the death of Jerry Lee Lewis.

Somewhat anticipated, even the subject of false rumors, Jerry had a stroke a couple of years ago and, with the lifestyle he led – often on death’s door; in some ways tempting death many times through the years – he was, in the words of one of his recent nicknames, the Last Man Standing.

That reference is to the class of talented Southern boys who burst on the American musical scene in the mid-1950s. They were all unique, with utterly distinct styles, yet their common roots and similar stories was a most astonishing coincidence. Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Charlie Rich, Roy Orbison… and others: all born in the mid-1930s; all dirt-poor Southerners; all of Pentecostal or Fundamentalist faiths; all attracted to, and amalgamating in their music, the traditions of country music, Gospel, white and black blues; all separately showing up on the doorstep of a small recording studio in Memphis, hoping to find an audience. Remarkable.

When I was a kid and rock ‘n’ roll was young too, it was Jerry Lee Lewis who caught my ear, so to speak, and I never looked back. Through the years I interviewed him maybe a dozen times; traveled over half the continent to attend concerts and see him backstage; and eventually met, and became friends with, some of his relatives – cousin Mickey Gilley; sister Linda Gail Lewis; other cousins like Rev David Beatty; band members like Ken Lovelace; associates like Jack Clement.

In his hometown of Ferriday, Louisiana, I worshiped in the Assembly of God Church where the cousins grew up; and spent time with Jerry and Linda’s colorful other sister Frankie Jean. I became a follower of Jimmy Swaggart, I suppose first hooked by the “bait” of the music, and have worshiped and interviewed in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, too. Closing the circle, I interviewed Mickey and other Gilleys, too.

I am in the process of putting all those meetings and interviews to work, and to share with the world a book that will profile them, principally Jimmy Lee and Jerry Lee – why I am putting aside thoughts on Martin Luther’s Reformation five-hundred years ago.

In a sense, however, there is a connection. The rediscovery of Bible-based belief and worship that Luther promoted has its current manifestation in Fundamentalist and Pentecostal churches. Of course many people will think this is unlikely – an affinity between nascent Protestantism of the 1500s, and the subsequent majesty of the Baroque master Bach; and the perfervid preaching in white-frame rural churches and the back-beat, three-chord exuberant music of Southern Gospel. But, Amen – so be it. The scarlet thread of redemption is actually a ribbon of many threads.

My book has found a theme beyond the blood relations (a gene pool the size of a teardrop) and family tree (more like a tangled vine!), and it can be found in the title: “Cousins – The Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings of a Remarkable American Family.” For, besides the abnormal, almost miraculous, musical talent and astonishing piano stylings that the Cousins possess, there is the common element of Pentecostalism.

Music and Christian salvation rescued and redeemed the branches of that family and many similar families in that region and that time. Of course the Pentecostal experience is as old as the Days of the Apostles, but has only reasserted itself in the past century. Now it is a worldwide phenomenon – to choose one proof, the number of Pentecostals in Brazil today is more than the Catholic population.

In Jerry Lee’s case, the preaching and music were part of his life. He attended Bible College in Texas until he was invited to leave because he would not (or could not, he told me) stop “juking” traditional Gospel songs like “My God Is Real.” Pastor Charles Wigley was a fellow student, playing sax in a little pickup band, and he told me that Jerry occasionally snuck out at night to listen to music at clubs in Dallas’s Deep Elem neighborhoods.

Jerry Lee’s virtually instant stardom when Sun Records heard his demos propelled him to what the public has known since then – TV appearances; multiple wives including one to his 13-year-old cousin; ups and downs; scandals; problems with drink, drugs, and taxes; movies and worldwide tours; and so forth. His cousins had somewhat similar experiences.

Yet all of the family, from the most casual church-goer to the world-famous evangelist Jimmy Swaggart, never rejected the “Sunday morning” component, no matter how many “Saturday nights” there were. You will understand the symbology.

The world might scorn (sometimes correctly) the repeated confessions of some folks; repentance, pleas for forgiveness, embracing the cross. Again and maybe again. But, we are all sinners. Some of us sin more loudly, or more colorfully, even more persistently, than others. But woe be to those who judge.

Many who sin never do desire to repent. Or never – God help them – feel the need for forgiveness; never really are conscious of their sin. Never knew, in the first place, a God who sees them and loves them and judges but has already provided a means of redemption in the cross – the shed blood of His Son.

Putting aside the massive talent and compelling music of Jerry Lee Lewis, his life on earth, now ended, can be seen as one hewing to the Gospel nevertheless, wracked with sin-consciousness when he strayed, having hundreds of conversations about his guilt; reforming, pledging, backsliding, interrupting some concerts to switch to Gospel music – working out his inner conflicts in public.

When he was training to be a preacher, he told me, a favorite theme was “the devil’s tail sticking out of houses” – when people had television antennas on their roofs. Ironic that his cousin Jimmy Lee Swaggart based a major portion of his ministry on televangelism. Ironic, too – or appropriate – that at the end of his life Jerry (once again… but clearly sincere) gave his heart to Jesus. Cousin Mickey Gilley did so, too, before his recent death. “Made things right with the Lord,” they each said.

Jerry Lee Lewis’s last recording project was a duet album with Jimmy Swaggart – long discussed over the years, but never produced. Traditional hymns and Gospel songs, it was released only months ago.

The world already is realizing that Jerry Lee was far greater than memorable hits and scandals and tabloid rumors. Even last month, before his death but after decades of snubs, the Country Music Hall of Fame finally elected him to its list of honorees.

Now he will be transformed from a popular personality to the true, exceptional icon he always was despite himself. His real story, as with many great figures in history, has come a full circle.

I pray that we can all have personal counterparts in our “walks,” and I don’t mean music or a particular lifestyle. Jerry Lee Lewis was taught the Truth of the Bible by his mother Mamie and Aunt Rene and in the First Assembly of God Church. He “hid the Word in his heart.” When he strayed he listened to the Holy Spirit, was troubled, and sought forgiveness. He shared his struggle with the world. In the end, it was not his new plaque in the Hall of Fame, but the old pew where he once sat, learning about Jesus and singing the songs of amazing grace, that was his real home. And where he was fulfilled.

“His” versions of those Gospel songs have prevailed after all. Whether there is a little more shaking going on in Heaven, we’ll understand it all by and by…

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Click Video Clip: In the Garden

Click Video Clip: Jesus, Hold My Hand