Some thoughts just bubble up, and today mine came wrapped in melody. My daily language is so littered with musical references that this morning, when I caught myself saying, “I don’t know much,” I immediately heard Aaron Neville singing it—and yes, I laughed at my own cheesy reference. It happens all the time.
Music has always been my lifelong fascination, my constant classroom. I love learning about artists, their influences, what drove them to create, and how those creative sparks catch fire in us all.
Every song I hear becomes a bookmark in memory. I can tell you where I was, who I was with, or what I was feeling when I first heard it. It’s as if the song records me as much as I record it. Later, when it comes back through a speaker, I’m instantly transported—not by airplane, but by harmony and nostalgia.
The Harmony I Missed: When I Judged the Artists
But I must admit something that I'm not proud of: there was a time when I limited my own playlist, not because of the music, but because of the musicians.
Growing up a devout Catholic, I filtered artists through the lens of their personal lives or moral choices. I missed out on some truly great ones because of that. I avoided Culture Club, George Michael, and Elton John because of their sexuality. I dismissed the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and Bob Marley for their drug use. I turned away from Cat Stevens when he became Yusuf Islam. I couldn’t separate the art from the artist; I let their human sides drown out their harmony.
Even more recently, the struggle felt immediate when I listened to Morgan Wallen after he was called out for racist behavior. The question roared back: How do you reconcile the beauty of the music with the ugliness of a human mistake?
Evolving Ears: The Sound of Forgiveness
Thank God I grew up. At some point, my ears took the lead, my heart followed, and my head learned to take a break.
I began to hear the beauty again, to appreciate the music itself—the emotion, the artistry, the courage. I realized I was missing out on something truly divine: the way music connects all of us, even through our flaws.
Now, I like to think of myself as a background director on Pop-Up Video or maybe an unpaid intern for Adam Reader, YouTube’s “Professor of Rock.” A big part of my day is spent immersed in songs, stories, and sounds. I listen to almost everything now, from gospel to folk to '80s pop and beyond.
Almost everything. I still draw the line at music that glorifies violence, degrades women, or relies on shock value through graphic language. I can evolve, but I won’t compromise my core.
The Redemption Song (whaaat, a Bob Marley reference?!?)
Music has become my mirror, showing me not just who I was, but who I’m becoming. Every lyric, every artist, every rediscovered song teaches me something new about grace, forgiveness, and joy.
Life is one long playlist. Some songs hurt, some heal, and some remind us that redemption can be found in a three-minute track, if we’re finally willing to listen.
Final Note: The older I get, the more I realize that God must’ve invented music to help us forgive. Every song feels like a second chance, both for the artist and for the listener. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I hear Aaron Neville reminding me that maybe I do know a little something after all. I’m listening.
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