Mostly Blues
“By the sweat of your face you will eat bread, till you return to the ground, because from it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Genesis 3:19 NASB
Sweat – When it comes to music, I’m a blues man. Give me Clapton, B.B. King, Tommy Castro, Robert Cray or Debbie Davis and I feel like someone understands me. Add some Stevie Ray and it’s a good day indeed.
Why do I like the blues so much? Maybe it’s because the blues are about life as it is. I resonate to “Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die,” and “The sky is crying.” Lyrics for “What About Me?” and “Worried Life Blues,” vibrate in my soul. I remember the day I stood in front of the apartment window and cried uncontrollably listening to lyrics about how far we are from the Garden. My life is about the blues, so of course, the songs penetrate.
Not everyone has this deep appreciation for songs that speak about heartache, disappointment, struggle and hurt. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t have the experience. I believe that the common language of all humanity is the language of pain. We all know what it’s like to live the blues. That’s why we can connect so easily when someone shares a story of trauma and trial. No matter where we are on the road, we know what it means to hurt.
Of course, the fact that we can share a common language of pain doesn’t mean much if there is no corresponding vocabulary of hope. I don’t tell you about my pain just to walk you through my suffering. I tell you about my hurts and heartaches because I hope you will identify with me and give me a way out. If I didn’t believe that your experience could help me, there would be no point in telling you my struggles. That is the basis of the blues. I sing my sorrow so that somehow you will hear me and help.
Sharing the blues is a very old tradition. In American history, the blues began in the community of slaves. But the blues are much, much older than slave songs. The blues go back to the time when men discovered that life is filled with sorrow. The blues belong to the third chapter of Genesis. On the day sin was invited to take residence in this world, God Himself introduced us to the blues. In Hebrew, the language of the blues is found in the verb ‘atsav. We are familiar with this word, if not in our vocabulary, certainly in our experience. It is the verb “to hurt, to grieve, to have distress, to sorrow.” It is almost always about emotional and mental suffering, not physical pain. God did not bring the blues into this world. We did. But God was the first to point out that life after sin is life in the context of the blues. The world as we know it is a world of ‘etsev (the noun for pain, distress and sorrow). The paradigm examples of this experience are found in the toil and trouble of laboring for food (Adam’s discovery) and the labor and distress of child rearing (Havvah’s discovery).[1]
What Adam and Havvah discovered has become part of our common, human experience.
Everyone comes into this world through a veil of pain. Yes, birth is a joyous occasion, but it is joy mingled with a darker reality. Pain laces the entrance to this world. It accompanies us all our lives until one day it is finally relieved—in death. Just being born subjects us to a world already filled with suffering and sorrow. It is unavoidable. While you spend time on this world, you are always in the company of the blues.
If that were the end of the story, we would be inclined to adopt the view of the Greek poet Theognis:
“Not to be born is the best of all things for those who live on earth,
And not to gaze on the radiance of the keen-burning sun.
Once born, however, it is best to pass with all possible speed through Hades’ gates
And to lie beneath a great heap of earth.”
But sorrow has another face.
‘atsav is a verb with two meanings. The first is connected to the blues. The second tells us something else, something very important, something we don’t always recognize in the midst of our pain. ‘atsav also means “to exercise creative activity.” In fact, it is the verb used to describe God’s activity when He created the intricacy of human bodies (Job 10:8). On the human side of the equation, we find the verb in Jeremiah 44:19, describing the activity of women who made idolatrous images.
How can a verb that is clearly about mental anguish and emotional pain also find use in creative activity?
While scholars propose that these two meanings are derived from two different roots and are only accidental homophones and homographs (they sound alike and are written alike), there might be more to say than this. How many times have we recognized that some of our greatest creative moments come about precisely because of the mental and emotional anguish of human existence? Pathos is frequently the progenitor of greatness. Living in hell often produces heavenly creations. Without a deep experience of the sorrow of life, the artist doesn’t connect with us. Yes, it’s wonderful to have joyous, innocent, rapturous creations, but most powerful and lasting human achievements seem to be birthed on the dark side of the moon. Even Yeshua learned obedience in the context of suffering.
That’s really the appeal of the blues. When you have lived a life of sorrow, the blues touch your agony and for a moment, perhaps only a moment, transport you to a world where shared sorrow has a deeper sense of meaning. There is a heaven and a hope. I will not always be drifting. Stormy Mondays do come to an end. And when the thrill is gone, I can cry about it and find comfort in the tears of others. The blues let me feel what I feel in the company of those who know what it means to hurt.
There is a place for the blues. It’s called the believing community. It used to be called “Church.”
Unfortunately, these days many corporate church bodies seem to be playing marching music or hip-hop, upbeat, “everything is good and God is so great” rhythms. These church seem convinced that what the world really needs is a place of good news with sermons of adrenaline-pumping, booster shots. They seems to think that if I pray hard enough, sing loud enough, show enough overheads, tithe enough to build another big monument to the Messiah who actually lived in the gutters, I will somehow forget about those stormy Mondays, those empty beds, those down-and-out jobs and those skeletons in the closet. But it just doesn’t work, does it? Life is hard. Pretending it isn’t is a form of mental disease. Pretending it isn’t in a church is idolatry.
The church is supposed to be a place for sinners. Sinners have first-hand experience with the blues. The church is supposed to be a place where I can share my burdens, confess my failures and find a community of people just like me. The church is supposed to be a place where tears are the binding glue. When I know I am among kindred spirits, we, all of us, can discover that ‘atsav is the opening to something else. It is the way to a God Who is so wonderfully creative that He turned sorrow into celebration.
Without a good dose of the blues, there’s not much point in singing hallelujah choruses.
Topical Index: atsav, sorrow, blues, Genesis 3:19
[1] Meyers argues (TDOT, Vol. XI, p. 279) that the use of the word in Genesis 3 cannot be about childbirth. He believes that the occurrences of the word in other places must mean that Eve’s punishment included increased physical labor in an agrarian economy and the emotional and mental stress of raising children. He bases this on the fact that, with one exception, ‘atsav is always about emotional and mental sorrow and strain.
I went to women of the word conferences for years, every spring and every fall. The music was encouraging, the speakers were amazing, they were so inspiring and always taught that I was an overcomer and could do it all!
One speaker in particular was always filled to capacity for her workshops. She had a way of inspiring us to almost frenzy levels of belief that we could put on our bridal gowns and combat boots and conquer anything the Devil threw our way.
The trip down the mountain was always the hardest as we struggled to hold the teachings and zeal alive and well. My friends and I tried so hard to maintain the same level of zeal and passion we had experienced for our 2 days on the mountain. That within itself was an exhausting experience.
Just give me some truths and some blues to know that I’m going to struggle but I have hope to walk this life journey to the other side..I don’t need to have hyped up to survive!
My daughter and I have had this discussion a few times. She couldn’t understand the recent passing of a famous actor and comedian who took his own life. I have told her many times the most talented and creative people are the most tormented souls. Most comedians deal with deep depression. It seems to me that beautiful things grow in sad soil. I think that the pain needs some place to go. It either comes out in violence or creativity. Sometimes that creativity is relational as well. A deeper relationship with God or a person or even making a friend when you normally wouldn’t have but out of desperation you must. The sadness of this world is overwhelming and I shut it off, I am sure, far too often. I wonder what creative things I may be bypassing at times.
Cheryl, that is a deep statement.
All lies have at least a grain of truth. I have wondered often about the lie that there MUST be darkness for there to be light; the dualist background to most false religions, in fact. I think it is not prescriptive, but descriptive of the actual state of affairs on this local planet. It is true FOR US that we have to find our creative purpose through a wall of death and sorrow, for we ate of the Tree and chose that experience. Paradise was truly about innocence lost. Our purpose now lies on the far side of the experience of death. Either sin kills me, or I kill it, but something or someone must die. Its the law of the jungle for us.
Must go. Time to slay my dragons for today! (I will write the song about it later, Skip.)
There is a cross planted in the exact middle of each of us because Christ died for all of us. Perhaps this could be the real reason we run from the connection with ourselves, because if I really knew who I was I would not be able to avoid my need for that cross. The cross is about payment for sin. Our half of the payment is to repent, of course, but if we don’t know just how bad it is, we aren’t inclined to do something about it. A medicated (altered state of reality) life could be a life that is deliberately avoiding the fact that death already lies coiled in the middle of ourselves, for we are all fractured and therefore cursed with the consequences of those fractures. We are already slowly dying even before we are born.’ Altered states of all kinds, even the altered state of manufactured excitement (I know EXACTLY what you mean, Babs!) are about avoiding the pain of the truth.
Humility is about facing the truth. The truth on this planet is that death hurts. The blues are about facing the truth. I am not prospering because I am dying; not because I am not trying hard enough. I need sin removed; not righteousness added, to quit dying. But I have to face that sin first. Ouch!
I was raised in Pentecostal home that believed in the imminent rapture of the church in my early life time. So I never had a plan for my life and never believed I would age and of course would never have to experience death. Imagine my great surprise and anger when I realized I am aging and it will continue until I die!!!! I have had some serious breakdowns over this revelation which for most people sounds silly of course. It has been a serious struggle for me and continues to be as I have search for ever health fad out there and every “life giving” supplement I can find. When recently I read a book addressing the reason for such behavior is to cheat death and now it all makes sense. The frantic fight to stay young and ward off the inevitable is exhausting. Facing death wow! What a challenge in the deepest parts of the soul.
Thanks for letting me share.
Appropriate every day and tenfold today! Deep sorrow and sadness after the leader of the United States gives a pass to hatred, bigotry, racism and fascism.
My mother passed away unexpectedly Monday. She had a long loving, and sometimes a troubled, life. She loved the blues, and not until I read Skip’s perspective did I fully appreciate why. I had not considered how the blues fit in until now. I need to do some more reflecting. Thanks again Skip for your thought provoking gifts.
I am sorry for your loss, Rick. Praying for your peace in the midst of this heartache…
I re-read yesterday’s words in the light of trusting in God purposes knowing “The heart of man plans his way but God orders his step” . Today’s word and yesterday’s come together for me when I realize Yeshua ” came that we might have life and that to the full”. It is the reality, the truth of life that he helps us share when we walk with him. The pain, the truble, our struggle, the mystery the majesty are for us to experiance. The temptation is to medicate, deny, delude ourseves. We want something other than life as it shows up because we think life should be other than it is. He comes to us entreating we stay present in it with him . Then we are what was purposed for us to be. Yet I still see in this the mystery of interdependencey. For some wonderful and mysterious reason we where made to be the self aware and free willed hands and feet of Abba. If we don’t decide to pick up the laundry it goes un washed unless He has another willing to help…
We might think Yeshua came to this earth with a big case of the blues
as He faced the cross. As Skip noted, “Even Yeshua learned obedience
in the context of suffering.” Earth is a place of suffering.
Yet the cross had a joyful consequence attached. Yeshua startled the
entire cosmos, defeating death and re-appearing on earth with a “new life”,
a new countenance, a new attitude, a new perspective, and a new hope for mankind.
That’s the God we know. Skip aptly described Him as “so wonderfully creative that He
turned sorrow into celebration.
I sang the blues for virtually half my life. Then I received a “new life” which I deeply celebrate.
I know the blues very well; they were a big part of my old life. Like Yeshua, I too learned
obedience from what I suffered. He faced the cross. So do I.
He defeated it . . . and handed me the keys.
Biblical scholar Sandra Richter, in her contextual book Epic of Eden, says “sweat of the brow” was an ancient eastern idiom meaning “never enough.”
Originally, God gifted Adam to work the land & it would easily bear fruit, making work enjoyable & fulfilling. After Adam’s sin, though, he’d have to toil the land with harder work & it would not easily bear good fruit. Man would always feel the need to work harder to gain more. By the sweat of his brow, man would always quest for more, never feeling like enough is truly enough.
And ain’t that the truth? Men often find their identity & self worth in their jobs & success. Society judges people by their success. Success is attractive & breeds further commercial success. Yet it never seems satisble for most men. The bar is set, met & heightened. Never enough.
Richter would say it’s living under the curse, not the redeemed life offered by Christ as “new creations” where regular intervals of rest is entetred into, striving is replaced by motivation to please the Lord not man & contentment is not found in stuff but in the presence of the Lord & His people.
We can all choose to live in the cursed or redeemed state, but sometimes we have to be cognizant of which is which in order to make the choice to switch.
“Dark is the world to me for all its cities and stars. If not for the certainty that God listens to our cry,who could stand so much misery, so much callousness? God listens.” Abraham Joshua Heschel
Life is shaped in and out of the blues. I’m sure that Job would agree. I would add my voice to chorus of saints who can relate to the blues. God took me through three pastorates where I experienced significant pain. While seminary taught me the supremacy of the Greek text over the English one, it never taught me about the hard lessons of life, nor church life. After a mere six months in my last church, the elders mounted a slanderous and libelous attack on me AND my family, calling a congregational meeting to dismiss me, and failing to fulfill their promises of support. I had six young children at the time and my wife was a stay-at-home mom. At the meeting attempting to dismiss me, their efforts were thwarted by some equally crafty church members. The elders and their families literally stormed out of the church, yelling as they went. While poetic justice was apparent, the emotional trauma inside my mind and heart was not. My family suffered through the worst of churchianity and the subsequent financial fallout of a church split. I left the ministry deeply wounded as a person. What I would also come to realize much later is that my pride and sense of self-sufficiency took a serious punch in the jaw.
For the next six years, I secretly despised church. I had difficulty getting close to anyone. No one could relate to my pain, no one. And frankly, no one really cared enough to listen.
During this time of wilderness wandering, the seeds of the kingdom were being sown in the desert of my dead soul. First, I was invited to a group that was studying through a video series called Heyesod. Talk about paradigm shift. At the time, it was a little heavy for my platonic/Hellenistic way of understanding truth and the Bible. The second event that threw me off my game was attending a Passover celebration. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and hearing. I thought to myself, “Why wasn’t this tradition passed on to the church? How in the world did ‘communion’ become a substitute for THIS?” That set me on a journey of discovery that I could never have dreamed of seven years earlier. The carpet of truth got pulled out from under me. God got my attention. Pain had a way of stripping from my thinking all the non-essentials to help me see the reality of the kingdom and the true church. Praise Yahweh! HalleluYAH!
Today, the pain is still here. In fact, now my Christian family thinks that I have gone off the deep end, joined a cult, given up on grace, and given up on the inspiration of the NT. Recently, one of my dear friends in ministry whom I have known since seminary (who travels the world doing evangelistic work) secretly sent an eight page letter TO MY WIFE literally trashing my character and lumping me in with every Hebrew Roots wacko on the planet. [Frankly, Evangelical Christianity is starting to scare me, as it is becoming increasingly apparent that the law of love doesn’t apply there.] However, nothing can separate me from the love of Messiah. Nothing. Tonight, I have the immense privilege of studying with a group of believers who love Torah, love God, and love Yeshua. Could it get any better than this?
I have long been part of what some may call the “rah rah” contemporary Christian worship services. That’s not to say that I’ve never faced heartache and sorrow. However, since I’m a cheerleader type personality (encourager), I’ve been blessed to participate in praise songs lifted heartily to our King. I can understand how this might grate on many, but please let me offer another version of a “blues song” by Tenth Avenue North: (“I Have This Hope”)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBg9jHQtE44