I had a ton of cleaning to do this morning. All that I ignored this weekend sat there and waited patiently for me, bless those little dirty dishes.
I put the iPhone on shuffle- got the bluetooth speaker going and started cleaning. And even though it’s on shuffle, it has played three Charlie Peacock songs out of the ten songs I’ve listened to so far.
It’s like it knows what I needed on a Monday morning.
I know these songs. Every word. I even know the acoustic version of “In the Light” from his album, No Man’s Land.
His song “The Night Won’t Last Forever” makes me get tears in my eyes. Not because of any current event/thing/problem I’m currently facing but because of memories… and life… and God.
I tear up because Charlie Peacock is what my freshman year of college sounds like. I moved out of my comfortable preacher’s kid home, went to a Bible school in downtown Chicago and fell in love with city life/staying out late.
We all listened to Charlie Peacock. He was cool. Different. Said things. We went and saw him in concert. We danced. He was the soundtrack.
I worked a part time job to be able to afford school. I studied the Bible. I cut New Testament Survey so many times, I ended up failing it. I made best friends with my roomie and dated lots of guys and never went on second dates with the ones that wanted to be youth pastors (Hey man, I had standards.). I met a guy three years older than I was and fell pretty hard for him and dated him the rest of the year. Friends and I went out and tried to pretend we were cool.
Charlie sang in the background.
In the car.
In our dorm room.
The next year, my roommate didn’t return to school, the guy dumped me the day before classes started and I had two classes with the hardest prof on campus. Oh, and I got that report card with the first F of my life in the NT class I cut too many times.
That freedom I had felt the year before disappeared. As cliche as it sounds, that’s the year I grew up and realized I had to make things my own. My faith, my choices – I had to take responsibility for me.
All to the tune of Charlie Peacock.
Spiritual memories are good. And for me, music is a spiritual memory.
As Ravi Zacharias says in his book The Cries of the Heart: “One of the most valuable roles music plays is to build the reservoir of our memories. It serves as a rewind button that brings back the past in a fond remembrance. In that sense, it helps connect life’s dreams to life’s accomplishments. That is why the church must think through carefully the blessing and the caution that comes from the proliferation of new choruses and songs now upon us. We are leaving many in their middle years severed from their musical past.”
I still listen to Charlie Peacock, not because I’m still that 18 year old kid finding her way.
But because I was that 18 year old kid finding her way.
The number of my days, the span of my ways, too many to mention, too wide to hold,
Written on my skin is the shape that I’m in,
I know I’m not a young man, but neither am I old.
Still I gotta wonder: is the brightness still in me?
Can I hold my own and sing a simple song?
Oh, I gotta wonder: is the brightness still in me, as it was when I was young and first believed?
The light of God within,
Forever, grace given to every sinner broken who dares to call God strong,
Holy Spirit speak when my light grows weak, make me shine like Jesus, fill me with his song.