In 1971, mother decided to become a Southern Baptist. Mind you I did not say Christian - I still have hopes she can indeed find God one of these days - drowning in the morass of theology she had her head stuffed full of at Denver Theological (danger Will Robinson!). And with her decision came the decision that Sommer and I, as well as, all of our friends had to go to church with her. Really? My only satisfaction in all of that I made a couple of friends and found out they went to my high school and so had someone to hang out with at lunch! Yeah, if I you are a foreign geek you really are not going to make many friends! Also seemed that if you were a church attender, no wanted to know you either! Double whammy for me it seemed.
That summer I started reading random references to something called Jesus People. What I found interesting was that these "Jesus People" by all appearances seemed different than the hypocrites whom attended mother's church (oh, the stories I could tell!). Sure, the biggest joke in the church was about the typical Boulder Canyon hippie visiting a church and getting invited out to lunch; at the meal he asks for more green beans and adds, "Praise the Lord". How those people would roar with laughter!
But, there was something about these "People": they were not rioting, they were not protesting, they were a peaceful lot - really not getting into anyone's face - and that made me notice. They talked about peace, peace was possible between all men - but it started with you, in your heart ... Made no sense to me, as far as I knew I had no heart but peace I understood - because it was something I longed for and could never find.
The summer of 1972, the youth group all went down to Dallas, Texas for Explosion 1972. I was unsure as to what it would be, other than an utter waste of time. But the church had a couple of buses and the youth group headed off to Texas. What is there to say? The children of hypocrites, are hypocrites. Yeah, they could talk a great line but unable to live it across two weeks. I was completely disgusted with everyone of them by the end of that trip.
But something stuck with me ... the music. It spoke to me. No it was not rock or anything, perhaps folk music? The words meant something. And, just because I was surrounded by hypocrites did not mean that there was not a truth somewhere out there ... communicated by those words. It started my mind working, ultimately leading to my fall from grace with everyone I knew, thrown out of my family and exiled to Seattle the following year. In that also came my finding the peace and the truth behind those words.
I was never a part of the Jesus People, I actually never met anyone whom was, but I met a great many whom were touch by what happened that summer of '72. We struggled to understand against the backdrop of an unyielding archaic church, whom did not understand us and would not try. We must conform that was their only answer, no matter how wrong they were. It was easy to understand how so many were moved to fall into cults or movements which did become cultic.
Ever so often I think of, Keith Green and Love Song, their music, their words. Most of it was "eh", but I think of the words and meaning behind the song, "Love Song". They still have meaning to me. I still have that longing within me for ultimate peace - on Earth between all men and within my heart. But, for now, that peace will only be found within a relationship with Jesus, in faith.
And everything else will just be chaos ...
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