“How could life be so cold?
Where did all the water go
That my boat was floating on yesterday?
Has my ship run aground,
Or have I finally found
That the ocean I was on was just a bay?”
“And as I stand here on the shore
I can hear the ocean roar;
The tide’s gone out I’m stranded on my own.
Not a love, not a friend,
But on God I can depend
To show me the light and safely lead me home.”
(Partial lyrics from The Gospel by Charlie Gearheat, originally recorded by Goose Creek Symphony.)
Not long ago I was reminded that it’s important for musicians and performers to remember why we do what we do. It’s especially important during the lull periods when gigs seem to be few and far between and when it seems like fewer and fewer people are coming out to the shows.
My schedule has been extremely hectic the past few weeks. It’s been a draining time, physically, emotionally and spiritually. Yet in the midst of swirling activity and physical strain, I’ve received some blessed reminders of what this business is all about for me.
En route to Fort Worth, Debbie and I stopped in Oklahoma to spend the night with a friend, fellow pastor and musician. We enjoyed a great evening of conversation, and he told me the story of his decision to retire from active ministry. Having received a suggestion from a few of his church leaders that it might be time for him to go, he went on a personal retreat with a copy of Going Over Home.
The Gospel, Charlie Gearheart’s tune, is the first track on that CD. The lyrics reproduced above helped guide the journey that brought my friend to what is proving to be a very happy retirement. Some three decades after the song was written and almost a decade after my recording of it, the song made a difference. It touched someone else’s life.
Then, a few weeks ago, a friend from my days at the University of Kentucky contacted me after finding my music on iTunes. She still had in her possession a cassette that I recorded in her dorm room almost 30 years ago. Over all those years and through several life changes, she would listen. It was recorded on a whim but had a lasting impression.
For me, the blessings of being a musician are intrinsic. These are not easily counted, but they are the ones that make the most difference to me. One story like either of those above, and I’m good to keep playing for a long time.
Maybe CDs sell, and maybe they don’t. Maybe people come out to shows, and maybe they don’t. Either way, it’s still music to touch the spirit, and that’s what matters.