ah, the sweet, sweet strains of the synthesizer

I picked up Michael W. Smith’s The Big Picture at the library the other day, just for the sake of a stroll down memory lane. It used to be one of my favorite CDs, eons and eons ago, simply because it had my absolute favorite song ever: Rocketown. I listened to that tune this morning, and wondered why I liked it so much. I remember feeling deeply moved by the lyrics, shaken by the profound truth contained within those lines. I guess it was the conservative Christian equivalent of a preteen hearing Pink Floyd for the first time. Now, however, I listen to the jangling keyboard and Michael’s rough tenor, and have to laugh at my youthful obsessions.

I also remember feeling guilty every time  listened to that CD because, well, because of the cover. You see, I’d seen a picture of it in one of those well-intentioned booklets that littered our household, the ones that railed against rock music and it’s equally evil spawn, the contemporary Christian movement. And this picture pointed out that the young man appeared to have a horn growing from his head (because I’m sure would not have noticed that otherwise) and pointed out that this MUST be an allusion to the beast and was a definite sign of his involvement with the occult. There were other things, too–backwards lettering, etc.

It wasn’t too long after that we got rid of all CCM music from our house, and listened to nothing but hymns and classical. That’s all I knew from when I was 12 to 19, I think.

So this morning, as I hummed along to “Rocketown” and read the above link, it made me really glad that I can think for myself, now. I don’t let bad punctuation, emotional pleas, and extra large type scare me into listening (or not listening) to something.

I am free in Christ to please Him, and Him alone. 

~ by wildeyedwonder on July 21, 2006.