I denied myself nothing my eyes desired; I refused my heart no pleasure. My heart took delight in all my labor, and this was the reward for all my toil. Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun (Ecclesiastes 2:10-11)
Plank time.
Before I became a Christian, one of my favorite albums was 1991’s “Dion Chante Plamondon,” a cassette by Celine Dion that my folks picked up for me while on vacation in eastern Canada. I liked this album, even though it was all in French, because I was looking for music that moved me emotionally; suffice to say, this album successfully accomplished that goal.
Later, after I became a Christian, I forsook my previous music collection and looked for music in the “Contemporary Christian”’genre that did the same thing as before: to provide me an experience. Oh, I would tell myself that the search was to help strengthen my newfound walk with God. Or that, once I had made such a find, I would invite my friends over to relay my new discovery to them and bolster their faith too (prior to my conversation, my music loving friends and I did that quite often; this never really panned out post-conversion, and the times that I did try to share music with friends never really went anywhere). But I was lying to myself. God knew I was lying to myself. The truth was that my pursuits were still for my own personal love of music, with the same goal of reaching an emotional rush that I sought prior to giving my life to Christ.
My confession: My love for music still surpassed my love for God.
Fast forward to 2019. My Christian music collection (and by “Christian,” I mean sometimes going as close as I could to the proverbial sacred/secular line without going over) continued to accumulate until it finally had reached a “saturation point” as it would: with the exception of brand new music, a couple of missing Jesus Music albums and those “I wasn’t looking for it until I found it” discoveries at the vinyl record shows, my collection is all but complete. But I was not, and no temporary good feelings had succeeded in filling that void.
Nevertheless, I tried music one more time. After pompously declaring to myself that 2019 was a “slow year” for Christian music, I gave in to the itch of related YouTube “related content” and into the realm of Portuguese “Cristã Contemporânea (Brazilian Christian Pop Music).” At first I was blown away by the musicality of what I heard. But these discoveries came with their own set of problems, and before I realized it, I was in over my head. I had the Google Portuguese/English translator (an advantage I didn’t have in the early 90’s), and through the lyric translations and interviews that I read, realized that I had once again put my “feel good” music obsession, cloud my walk with Christ.
Proverbially I had circled back to Celine Dion all over again.
Not to be Biblically cliche, but I’m beginning to understand what the author of Ecclesiastes has been trying to tell me about these pursuits being vanity, a chasing after the wind. All that time used for myself in the thrift stores, the record shows, the music section of the Christian bookstores, time that which would have been much better spent giving of my time and resources to the betterment of others.
So how does this cautionary tale relate to my readers?
God searches the heart of each and every human being, and as believers we must work out our individual salvations with fear and trembling (Phil. 2:12). Anything we place emphasis on that exalts itself over Christ must be cast down (2 Corin. 10:5). Let’s face it, as humans we like things that make us feel good. God Himself enjoys blessing his creation out of His great love. As Christians we can still discover great music that glorifies God, and causes us to give Him our worship and praise. But if having those “feel-good” experiences becomes the ultimate goal of our existence, be it through listening to music, being moved by musical or theatrical performance, or by overemphasizing rapturous religious experiences, then we have missed the mark.
Jesus said to store up treasures in Heaven that cannot be destroyed or stolen (Matt 6:19-21). For music lovers we can “store up” our own collections and Spotify playlists and physical “albums” for dinosaurs like me. But these things are temporal; My CD and Vinyl trophy collection will eventually return to dust (but will probably remain intact long enough to first be dispersed to the local thrift/antique stores after I’m gone).
Today, instead of devising plans of self-acquisition, let us instead reflect on the grace and mercy God has shown us, and seek to better others more than ourselves, showing unconditional love to those around us. Let nothing rise above our knowledge of Christ, our greatest example of God’s unconditional love. Praise be to God.
