I woke up with a headache on Saturday morning. No, it had nothing to do with being hung over. That’s one thing that people who don’t drink alcohol never have to worry about. Another thing I don’t have to worry about–being confused with someone in a rock band.
Our church hosted a “christian” rock concert/youth rally on Saturday night featuring two local bands (SecondMan and OnTheBrightSide) and one from Nashville (Days Apart). When it started, my head was still throbbing even though I had spent the day taking enough pills to qualify as a subject for the show Intervention. I was looking forward to the concert because I knew that it would touch lives and draw us closer to God. I was not looking forward to the concert because I had a feeling that the combination of flashing, multi-colored lights and the loud noise would make my head explode sending the contents of it flying in all directions across the sanctuary. And nothing upsets a baptist congregation quite like bits of brain matter in the pews.
A strange thing happened, though, as the first band started playing with the sound turned up to a foundation-cracking level: the pain in my head started to subside. I’m guessing that the noise caused my head to vibrate so violently that the clogged up mucus residing in my sinuses was shook loose thus alleviating the headache inducing pressure. Or something like that. My headache went away.
Sadly, my inability to blend in with the band members did not. I am not one of them and I’m pretty sure I never could be. I’m just not hip. Or cool. Or whatever term you would use for guys who look like they decided to stop off at a small baptist church on their way to the MTV Video Music Awards.
Here’s the three main reasons that I will never be a member of a rock band.
1. Calling my hair cut a “hair style” is an insult to hair stylists everywhere. Unless being devoid of style has become a style. Take a look at my picture that accompanies this website. Look at my hair. I’ve had the same hair cut for a long time, maybe since birth. No highlights. No product. No faux hawk. No chance of being confused for a band member.
2. Wearing skinny jeans goes against everything I believe about clothing for the lower half of my body. Jeans should be comfortable and loose, sort of like wearing a hug from your fluffy-armed grandmother around your legs. They should also allow room for trips to a buffet. Wearing skinny jeans to a buffet is like trying to balance a cup on an open refrigerator door while pouring milk into it. It’s a disaster-in-waiting. Skinny jeans on a fat guy at a buffet means someone is going to have a button implanted into their skull when the strain on the jeans becomes too much for the fabric to handle.
3. I have a severe aversion to pain. This means that I have no tattoos on my skin or pieces of metal sticking through my flesh. It doesn’t hurt that bad? Yeah–that’s what I tell my kids when they’re about to have a shot at the doctor’s office. No matter how much it is said, a lie is still a lie. And I’m still a sissy.
Not having hip hair, cool clothes, or painful skin accessories may make me a bad fit for a rock band. Big deal. I still fit quite nicely in the Kingdom of God.
He takes people with product-free hair and those with hair loaded with every type of goop imaginable. He takes people who wear Wranglers and men who squeeze themselves into jeans meant for 7-year-old girls. He takes people with ink-free, unpierced skin and those who enjoy pain enough to have more tattoos and piercings than the Duggar’s have children.
How we look does not change how God looks at us. He looks at us with love, grace, and kindness. He sees us for what we are: people in need of a Savior. He sees past the outside directly into the secret compartments of our hearts and sees how much we really hurt and how frightened we really are. In spite of our rough exteriors and even rougher interiors, he continues to hold his arms open wide beckoning us to come and find rest for our souls.
In not with the band, but I am with God and he is with me. That more than makes up for my lack of cool hair.
(I’m sure there are other ways to tell if someone’s not a member of a rock band. Which ones did I miss?)