Unnecessary Pain

“I come to you in pieces so you can make me whole.”  Pieces by Red

Human beings feel pain. We are all human beings. So we all feel pain.

If we slam our fingers in the car door it hurts really badly.   If our best friend is killed in an automobile accident, we feel pain. It hurts to our core.  In both of these cases, one physical and the other emotional, there is no way around the pain.  It’s just going to  hurt. And I know from bitter experience the loss of that friend will hurt long after the fingers feel just fine again. In both cases, I would call this necessary pain.

As a human being with nerve endings and emotional triggers, I have experienced my share of necessary pain. As a thirteen year old, my bicycle slid out from under me when I was coasting too fast and leaning too low around a curve with sand on my tires.  I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  My face hit the pavement first and the entire right side of my body followed.  My mother about passed out when I showed up at our front door dripping skin and blood.  I have dealt with human loss.  I have dealt with grief and pain. In all these cases there was no way around the pain. It was necessary pain.

But something happened this afternoon to bring to the surface another kind of pain. If actual pain hasn’t been enough to deal  with, I have created for myself, over the years,  a monstrous amount of unnecessary pain. This is pain I have created out of thin air.  It's been real because I've felt it. But it has all been unnecessary. None of it was useful or necessary. This afternoon I was listening to one of my favorite alternative Christian  bands, Red.  I was simultaneously enjoying the music and beating myself up for something that happened in 1983.  More specifically, it was something that didn’t happen. Unnecessary pain.

In June of 1983 I resigned a church position at a Baptist church and immediately accepted another position as youth director of a local United Methodist Church across the street. During my first conversation with my new pastor, he said, “David, there are many things you can do with your youth, but there is one thing you will do.”  I said, “Okay”. And he continued “Every summer you will take them to Ichthus, an outdoor Christian rock experience in Wilmore, Kentucky”.   I’m thinking, “Bring it on. I love Christian contemporary music.” So I said, “Sure. That’s great. Let’s go.”

I didn’t miss that he said, “Christian rock” but I thought, “How much harder can it get than contemporary?”. Turns out. A lot harder.   I was musically raised on Amy Grant, Phil Keaggy, Love Song, 2^nd Chapter of Acts, Michael Card, Keith Green, David Meece and so many others.  I was excited already. At this point I will interject that I do not remember the name of a single “Christian rock band” that was at Ichthus.  I do remember that Phil Keaggy was there one year and the next year Michael Card was a featured artist. And I certainly enjoyed listening to them.  But as for the other fifty or so bands that were there, I don’t remember a single one.  I will now name some of the bands who more than likely were  there: 12 Stones, Anberlin, Ashes Remain, Skillett,  Fireflight, Flyleaf, Kutless and dozens more that I now enjoy listening to. But this afternoon listening to and immensely enjoying Red, I knew in my heart that Red was there.  I'm quite sure that I  heard them sing. And if so I  sat there  with 30,000 other people around me and in my snobbery and indignation didn’t appreciate any of it. Ichthus has been called  the Woodstock of Christian music. The fact that I was there, but wasn't there at all is a crying shame.

Let me explain a bit more about “Christian rock.”  Another category, the category Red is in, is “alternative metal.”  Yes, it’s the hard stuff. Pandora Radio introduced me to  Red about ten years ago.  I was listening to my Switchfoot station when it cycled into a song by Red.  I don’t remember the song, but I remember having an immediate affinity for it.  I now own many Red CDs and have created numerous Spotify playlists of their music.  I listen to Red quite often. To say I love it is an understatement.  Yes, if you listen to Feed the Machine, Darkest Part, Step Inside or Shadow and Soul you will be introduced to their “heavy metal”. But if you keep listening and hear Pieces, Hymn for the Missing or Not Alone, I think you’ll agree that they could play them at about any contemporary church on Sunday morning.  They are that versatile and that good.

And Red was more than likely a featured band at at least one of those Ichthus experiences. So that’s why this afternoon it was vexing my spirit. In 1983 I was watching and listening to musical genius, but I just sat there. I just wish I had not been so musically narrow and arrogant to not appreciate them  when they were right in front of my eyes. That I don't have a memory of it.

So it helped to talk about it. Thanks for listening.  I think I’m over it and can move on.  I will listen to my Red playlist with no unnecessary pain. I promise. And to be fair, most people who were at Woodstock don't remember being there either. But what about the pain I feel every time I wash dishes? I think about how I wish that every now and then I had lingered in the kitchen of 102 Glenn Street after supper  to help Mom with the dishes. I wish I had asked her about her day.  Her life. Asked her about anything, instead of rushing off to  watch Green Acres or the Beverly Hillbillies. I wash a lot of dishes. I feel a lot of pain. And after fifteen years, I still miss my mom so much.  Necessary or unnecessary?