The Music is the Message

Two metal crates jam-packed and running over with circular hard objects fill my tiny personal space with music. Compact Discs? Are you kidding? I am speaking of my rapidly expanding record collection.

Let me admit that I own as many CDs as the next twentysomething, which I am still uploading to my iPod. I appreciate the clarity and convenience of modern technology, but there is something about the shiny, black vinyl in those dusty record sleeves that gives my musical nervous system a special jolt.

I’ve rooted through thrift stores from St. Louis to Virginia in my search for the unique. My library holds everything from Rimsky-Korsakov’s classical Scheherazade to the soundtrack from The Muppet Movie, but one of my favorites never came from a bargain bin. It sat for years in my parent’s pile of long-forgotten recordings that they bought when records were the latest thing. This The World of Pentecost Crusades album holds songs that I never heard, let alone sang. Some of the lyrics make me smile with their healthy supply of corn:

The congregation is bored
The preacher’s starting to snore
We’ve got to do some holy-rollin’

Others hit a simple, sincere note that reasonates in my soul:

For just one look in my Savior’s face
And when I feel His warm embrace
I’d trade a lifetime for just one day in paradise

I remember my graduate classes when we delved into the crazy theory of Marshall McLuhan -- “The Medium is the Message.” To him it was more important what you were playing your music on, rather than what message was coming out. The theory was far more complicated and substantial than my simple explanation conveys, but it held merit. Was he right? Does the progression from vinyl 45s to the latest MP3 player matter most because it reflects the deeper changes in our culture?

The truth is . . . I don’t care. I like my records. I like my iPod. And I like the musical message that comes from both. It’s the marriage of notes and words that wraps a fuzzy sweater around my heart on the days when the world seems a bit too chilly. Music’s ability to lift the spirits or open a heart to worship is heavenly. God didn’t have to share it with us, but he did. So it doesn’t matter to me which piece of plastic my music is coming from, as long as it keeps on coming.