[Inspired by Gary, Marc, and Chris]
Great art can reveal truths at a cellular level. These truths can be carried beautifully on the wings of a song. Songs. They play continuously in the backgrounds of our lives. I would argue, sometimes what we learned on the radio carried value similar to that learned in Kindergarten as the book claims. Heavy Metal drove the car through my teens, inspiring my deep dive into history. Then Grunge hit and I was smitten all over again.
But what sent me into the arms of a cult? Was it watching a cousin die a gruesome death from Leukemia? She was only 7. I was only 9 and I remember how the adults in the room kept telling me how brave I was to hold her hand as she vomited globs of blood into a bed pan. This process was put on repeat for months.
Was it the release of a movie? I can think of a handful of movies I saw due to no restrictions from HBO a child should have never watched. Like "The Day After" depicting the aftermath of a nuclear war. I remember shaking uncontrollably in bed every night for months believing this was my inevitable fate. Or "The Exorcist" which I was told made my dad physically ill at the drive inn while on a date with my mom. That kind of fear induced in a child made for some hallucinations of demons in my room.
Was it the earliest memories being huddled under the kitchen table with my baby brother screaming our hearts out in terror as my parents fought viciously? Or the memory of being in the middle of the street downtown with my mom pulling one arm and dad pulling the other that -I guess- was a kidnapping?
Was it the daily uncertainty of life growing up in the hood, never knowing what danger was lurking for children with no dads around to protect them? I can't explain it, but even as a child, you sense...no...you know, the whole society around you places no value in you. You could disappear in that current zeitgeist of "stranger danger" frenzy and the universe, hell, maybe even your mom, would not notice.
All of the above?
I became an avid student of history at a young age (because of Heavy Metal). If there's one thing I learned from history is that there is no solace to be found in the record of man. Life appeared violently cold and helpless, full of pain and misery for the masses and then you get to die. In examining religion, the disappointment was the same. Especially, Christianity. There was simply no logic in a supposed all powerful, all loving god, that utterly fails in defeating his enemy, but instead, allows his nemesis to influence the majority of his creation made in his image, into an eternal existence in a lake of fire.
But how would I overcome all this childhood trauma? Drugs and alcohol would not work for me. After dad bounced at age 5, mom went on a "trip" of her own to deal with her own trauma. My weekends were spent with the apartment full of strangers smoking weed and drinking cheap beer till dawn. They served as perfect role models of what I absolutely did not want to become.
I remember panic attacks all through middle school. Weeping in the lunchroom as the sounds of a million children screaming amplified in my head. Regular trips to the nursing station, not allowed to go home so just napping on a hard bench, sometimes till the final bell. I missed a lot of school and I was told if I missed a certain number, I would have to repeat the grade. I don't remember what that magic number was now but I did the math at the time and made sure I skipped school for the allowable limit.
There is probably no worse a time to be uprooted and moved far away than the summer between 8th and 9th grade. Starting high school as an outsider with strangers who all knew and grew up with each other is a certain fate of solitude for an already introvert with trauma. I suffered alone, making only a handful of friends and none of which are in my life today.
By 10th grade, my grades were swirling into the toilet. I quit. I just wanted to listen to metal and fuck around on a white Fender I bought with my first couple paychecks working as a busboy at a greasy spoon. After 2 weeks of in-school suspension for smoking in the boys room, my World History teacher took me aside and expressed his disappointment in me. He was a fantastic teacher and the only class I was doing well in. For the first time, I felt bad for letting someone else down. I don't know why he cared. I mean, why should he care about some sewer rat with long hair walking around in Iron Maiden shirts?
His wife was an English teacher at the same school. They both took a real shine to me. I took every class I could in my last 2 years with them. Two Advanced Placement classes with him and two College Prep classes with her along with a Creative Writing and a Poetry class. I managed to salvage my GPA to a respectable 3.2 by graduation and went on to college.
I went on to college right away (which was a big mistake) and after 2 years, I was burned out trying to maintain a GPA above 3.0 and working 55 hours a week to pay rent and feed not just me but my mom as well. PTSD started rearing it's ugly head again but this time bringing with it, a new friend...depression. I felt trapped, overwhelmed, doomed.
That is when cults come along to save the day. I dropped out of college to figure out what it was I wanted to do. It was then, my mom introduced me to literature she received for free after watching a program on TV. At first, I brushed it off. I had no need for god. He had done nothing for me and as far as I could tell, no one else through history.
Eventually, an article about hell caught my attention. It made sense. After learning this "plan of salvation" for the first time, I warmed up to the idea of a god that could save, not just me, but everyone. This god was a winner and had a reason (excuse) for everything messed up, including his own behavior. And the best part, I was chosen to know this and become god too. Hook. Line. and Sinker.
It is embarrassing, so many years later, to realize you were duped. It makes you feel really stupid. But I have learned since that cults are typical magnets for smart people too. I wasn't dumb, I was naive and seeking relief from childhood trauma. I wasn't self-destructive so I didn't turn to substances. Solace, for me, had to be found in something that appeared reasonable...logical. That is where the naive part came in. I was 19. Now, at 49, I can see how it all happened and I can forgive myself. It was an emotional decision that provided a pseudo-logical excuse to buy into it.
But I can honestly say this: Time in the cult eventually seemed to "cure" me of my PTSD, depression, anxiety and fear of relationships. This may have happened with or without the cult but I can honestly say my time in it (in those present moments) seemed good overall. I have a wonderful wife, amazing children, and fun and caring friends who are a joy to be around. This includes many of the ministers we've had over the decades. I have come to realize that, they too, are victims of a cult.
But I am not excusing the minister's role in it. Especially not Dave Pack who was my first Pastor the first 5 years in the cult. Pack is very slick. He was very likeable the first 2 years. Then cracks began to show. By the 4th and 5th year, I knew he was a "wolf in sheep's clothing" but I decided to wait on god to deal with him. I could inject a few examples over those 5 years showing how messed up Pack is but I don't feel comfortable doing that. In 1998, Global split. I asked where Pack was going. He said Global so I promptly joined Living and chalked that up to god dealing with my Pack problem.
After baptism, I didn't partake in a common ritual of burning, trashing or selling my "devil" music. I did, however, put most of it away and lost track of the CD's over the years. I did keep a few of my favorites around. When 9/11 hit, I practically shifted away from music overnight and became a conservative talk show junkie. This kept me unthinking into the new Millenium although the calls for Christ's return in 3-5 years were beginning to accumulate and did not go unnoticed. Mainly because I had decided to forgo returning to college since Jesus was returning and seeing my three tithes putting braces on minister's kids while mine went without.
Eight years of President Obama came and went and all the Tea Bagger claims that he would make America a Muslim/Communist nation never came to fruition. Not even close. Then "christian" America elected the biggest buffoon in U.S. history. I was beside myself and began a process of questioning everything.
I'm going to be cheesy here and say I had an epiphany. Sorry, but it's true. It was May 18th, 2017. My "spiritual father" of 24 years, Roderick C Meredith, died. I shed many tears throughout that day (or maybe it was the 19th--not sure which day I heard) but not one was for Rod. Maybe it was because he was a really old man like my grandfather and it was expected. He always seemed a likeable old man from a distance but not a pragmatic powerhouse you would expect Christ to use in ushering in his return. (Watching Gerald Weston take the helm was also strong evidence that this so-called "Work" was over and Jesus was not showing up anytime soon)
But on the same day, I learned Chris Cornell, the dynamic voice of Soundgarden and Audioslave, was dead. A very different kind of "spiritual father" and musical genius of 3 decades was gone. For me, his music touched my heart, soul and mind in a way that no preacher ever did. My heart was broken and tears flowed not just for him, but for the years I wasted in ignorance. That day served as a rebirth. That metal-head teen was born again...like Nebuchadnezzar regaining his senses after 7 years of grazing in a field of grass like a dumb sheep.
As I reflect back on years of music that have touched my soul, I realize great musicians, like great comedians and artists of all types, are often the world's harbingers of life's truths. There are many songs that have been written by musicians who grew up in religion, only to leave as adults and express the harm done to them because of religious ideologies.
One that clearly comes to mind is "The God That Failed" written by James Hetfield of Metallica. It was in response to him losing his mother to cancer. She relied on God's healing instead of seeking medical treatment which James believed would have saved her. Here are the lyrics:
THE GOD THAT FAILED
Pride you took, pride you feel
Pride that you felt when you kneel
Not the word, not the love
Not what you thought from above
It feeds, it grows
It clouds all that you will know
Deceit, deceive
Decide just what you believe
I see faith in your eyes
Never you hear the discouraging lies
I hear faith in your cries
Broken is the promise, betrayal
The healing hand held back by the deepened nail
Follow the god that failed
Find your peace, find you say
Find the smooth road on your way
Trust you gave a child to save
Left you cold and him in grave
Follow the god that failed
Broken is the promise
Betrayal, betrayal
James later wrote another song also thought to have been influenced by his mother's death called "Leper Messiah." This song was geared toward televangelists. I dedicate this song to all the people who have suffered financially, emotionally, mentally, spiritually and even physically under the leadership of monsters like Herb Armstrong, Dave Pack and many others...too many to list.
LEPER MESSIAH
Spineless from the start
Sucked into the part
Circus comes to town
You play the lead clown
Please, please, spreading his disease
Living by his glory
Knees, knees, falling to your knees
Suffer for his glory
You will
Time for lust, time for lie
Time to kiss your life goodbye
Send me money, send me green, heaven you will meet
Make a contribution and you'll get a better seat
Bow to your leper messiah
Marvel at his tricks
Need your Sunday fix
Blind devotion came
Rotting your brain
Chain, chain, join the endless chain
Taken by his glamour
Fame, fame, infection is the game
Stinking drunk with power
We see, we see, we see
Witchery, weakening
Sees the sheep are gathering
Set the trap, hypnotize
Now you follow
Time for lust, time for lie
Time to kiss your life goodbye
Send me money, send me green, Heaven you will meet
Make a contribution and you'll get a better seat
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
Deconstructing from lies you believed for decades is absolutely devastating. I took a violent swing from being a hard-core Armstrongite to an Anti-theist for a short while. But once I muddled through the anger, sadness and depression, I came out the other side...okay. I had to unlearn the "us vs. them" poison of religion because I realized I simply began applying it to an Anti-theist stance, equally as belligerent as my Armstrongism. That doesn't mean I had to respect religion and its process of faith to determine what is true. What I had to come to grips with is the fact that we are all in different places in life experiencing different things with different songs playing in our backgrounds and it's okay. It's really nobody's business and I mean business. No one should be fleecing other people of their livelihoods in the name of a god.
Am I an atheist? I don't know. Some days, I will say, yes. Agnostic is more like it. I think there may be a Creator but I am convinced Yahweh/Jesus is not.
I think many human beings wrestle with the big questions of life and want to know the truth. "The Truth" always at the forefront of COG discussions, is elusive and not likely attainable. But I am okay with true things that come from many sources, many people. Musicians are masters at articulating these struggles of truth and putting them to sound waves that forever affect us. For myself, I don't know of a song that better reflects this human condition of searching for but not knowing answers to big questions better than "Like A Stone" by Chris Cornell. I will close with the lyrics but I strongly urge you to listen to the song because his voice is what truly breathes life into the words.
What songs play in the background of your musical?
LIKE A STONE
On a cobweb afternoon
In a room full of emptiness
By a freeway, I confess
I was lost in the pages
of a book full of death
Reading how we'll die alone
And if we're good, we'll lay to rest
Anywhere we want to go
In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I'll wait for you there
Alone
And on my deathbed, I will pray
To the gods and the angels
Like a pagan to anyone
Who will take me to heaven
To a place I recall
I was there so long ago
The sky was bruised
The wine was bled
And there you lead me on
In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like a stone
I'll wait for you there
Alone, alone
And on I read
Until the day was gone
And I sat in regret
Of all the things I've done
For all that I've blessed
And all that I've wronged
In dreams until my death
I will wander on
In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like a stone
I'll wait for you there
Alone
Alone
V
