I think my musical tastes are eclectic. That may be putting it charitably. But one of the types of music that draws me is currently known as “emo”. At least I think it is. My children may scornfully correct me on this. But I know what category I’m thinking about and I can list qualifying songs ad nauseum. Due to my prolonged (possibly perpetual) adolescence, and my melancholy nature, certain songs move me deeply. They cluster around specific bands, naturally- Counting Crows, Something Corporate. Plus other songs, of course. Think of “Drops of Jupiter” by Train, or “Free” by the Martinis. Two new ones: “I Miss You” by Blink 182, and “Maps” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Or go way back: “Wasted Time” by the Eagles might qualify.
OK, what’s the common thread? Well, let’s go back to the idea of Emo music. These tend to be songs by people who are expressing need. They are opening themselves up. They are vulnerable. They are grasping for something, often something named Jessica, but they seem to sense that they are viewing a placebo and the problem is much bigger, much deeper. Doesn’t this seem like an expression of the human condition since the advent of evil? But not everyone sees it this way. Eminem is swearing and blonde-fondling. The Bare-Naked Ladies are just having some fun. Britney and Christina are trying to be the most salacious eye-candy possible. Emo, in contrast, seems to be looking past this, looking through it. It could be weariness, it could be desperation. It could be far sight.
In Reformed doctrine we understand that the stain of evil is so pervasive and so crippling that, although we can do a passable job of living our lives and being good citizens, when it comes to dealing with someone as perfect as God, we can’t even get off the blocks. Even if we think we are pursuing God and desiring God, we are simply bemoaning our own unmet needs. We understand that as fallen people, we are quite incapable of wanting God for God’s sake. Most of us have been in God’s position on this one, with someone wanting us for their own ends. We don’t like it; we generally don’t accept it; we understand that God doesn’t accept it either. He won’t be used and He won’t be mocked. We can’t get anywhere with Him.
The solution? Faith itself, a pure desire for God, a wanting of God for God’s sake, is in fact a gift of God. We can’t even ask for it. God chooses lucky schlubs, who in no way deserve it more or less than anyone else, and he gifts them with a thirst for God. And this pure thirst, He satisfies. The humans are passive. They are helpless. As I saw it stated once in a poem about unrequited love: Caught fast, we wait. And after the satisfaction, the thirst in many ways becomes worse. Evil clings so tightly to us, but we loath it now. We feel half-crazy sometimes, wondering when we can get to where we want to be.
OK, what on earth has this got to do with emo? You can probably see it coming. But if you go watch the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s perform “Maps”, you’ll see it more clearly. Karen O looks stricken. She sees the need. She sees the loss. But there really isn’t anything she can do. She can describe the situation. The music is haunting. The drums bang and the cymbals crash and we are profoundly given the force of the feeling, the cutting agony of the dilemma, the anticipated crushing loss. And then the song ends. The drums fall silent. The crashing cymbals really were as empty as Paul says. The guitar drifts away. The singer looks down. Has something been done? No. CAN something be done? No. Singing? Silent? No difference. Caught fast, she waits. She doesn’t even seem very sure of what she’s waiting for. If anything.
What a picture of the desperate seeker waiting for God. From the human’s point of view, God may come; God may not. And if He does, it could be tomorrow or in 80 years. We can holler, or cry, or keep a stiff upper lip. It doesn’t really matter. There is, through it all, this roaring, pounding, overwhelming need. The bed is too short. The shoes pinch. The light is too bright. There is nowhere to stand, nowhere to lie. Without this there is nothing. With it, everything. And we can’t even say what “this” is. Caught fast, we wait.