Much to say. Let me begin with a thank you to Emily who first had the idea of using song lyrics to title blogposts. These lyrics are from David Gray in a song called Disappearing World. I linked his website to the title if you're interested in hearing him. I'll try to always do that with my titles.
I searched for the Filmore Theatre for 3 and a half hours. I walked over 6 miles in the wrong direction. When I finally found a little shop still open to ask for directions the reply to my question 'How can I get to the Filmore?' was the wide opening of eyes and the words 'You can't walk there. You need to call a cab.'
I did walk there. Once I found my way in I was greeted by another question, 'Will you be drinking tonight?' Hell yes, I just walked 14 miles I thought and nodded. He stamped my hand with a stamp that read OVER 21. I laughed because he hadn't carded me. Time moves so fast.
Each visitor to the Filmore is asked to take an apple from a large basket that sits in its opening hallway. This tradition stretches back to the Theatre's opening. I took an apple without hesitation and found the bar, paid $5 for a Hefeweizen, and turned around to see a large open room with a red curtained backdrop to a simple stage. Six large chandeliers hung above, lit purple. I looked around and people watched as I sipped my beer.
This was San Francisco on a Saturday night. The concert I was about to see was Gillian Welch, a contemporary folk/bluegrass singer/songwriter best known for singing with Emmylou Harris and Allison Krauss on the 'Oh Brother Where Art Thou?' soundtrack. She was performing with David Rawlings, who I'd never heard of, and can't still explain to you if you don't know him.
As I gazed across the room I made two snap judgments. One-people in San Francisco are hip and fashionable. Two-I am neither hip nor fashionable. They wore clothes that pushed the edges, they had perfect hair, they had the coolest glasses. There were women in boots and skirts with little stylish glasses and cherry lips. There were men with leather shoes and perfectly cuffed pants and tight fitting black shirts and highlights. I looked like I'd had my ass beaten on the way in.
Being from the Mid-West the stereotype is that San Francisco is full of gay people. A claim which I found to be mostly true. It is also full of black people and Asian people,Hispanics and Middle-Eatsren people. There is just more of everybody in a city and more of the marginal in San Fancisco. At this concert I would say about half the room was gay at first glance as I sipped my beer. I knew this because of provable signs like kisses and handholding and informing symbols like rainbows on t-shirts. And for the other thirty-eight percent I just assumed.
I also assumed that this was a largely liberal room, which in Indiana is the same as gay. I figured that most of the room was pro-choice, anti-guns, supported gay rights, and voted for somebody other than George W. Bush. Which I didn't have a problem with because these things all describe me as well.
I stood there proud of myself for being there. I wondered what the folks back at home in my increasingly conservative church would think of the sight of this room. I bet the sight of apples being eaten en masse by gay urban liberals would've gotten the smoke rising in some of them. I threw away my beer cup. At $5 I would be stopping at one. The crowd near the stage started clapping, the lights dimmed, Gillian Welch and David Rawlings came out on stage.
I was impressed by Gillian's voice and Dave's guitar. These were great musicians, but this is not a concert critique. I stood there in the midst of these San Francicans and wondered if they got the same message I did from the songs I was hearing. One song in particular struck me as the lyrics were something like 'We've got to find a spiritual way to make it through these days..."
I stood guessing how many believers there were in the room and trying to discern if this was why I had found my way to The Filmore-to see how many people in the world needed God. Then Gillian announced this was the last song of the set and began to play "I'll Fly Away". I almost chuckled at the thought of a room full of gay urban liberals standing and cheering to a Gospel song. But then I heard the singing...
Some glad morning when this life is o'er,
I'll fly away.
To a home on God's celestial shore,
I'll fly away.
It wasn't just a few, it wasn't the half I'd assumed was straight, or the slight majority I'd have guessed were believers...
I'll fly away, O Glory, I'll fly away.
When I die, Hallelujah, bye and bye,
I'll fly away.
It was the whole room. Standing there together singing...
When the shadows of this life have flown,
I'll fly away.
Like a bird thrown, driven by the storm,
I'll fly away.
I'll fly away, O Glory, I'll fly away.
When I die, Hallelujah, bye and bye,
I'll fly away.
Louder than my Sunday worship service, with our own traditions and our own history.
This was the middle of the most liberal city in America and a group of the most liberal people in it were singing a closing hymn. Jerry Falwell would've been booed of the stage, Pat Robertson attacked, even Billy Graham ignored, but I'll Fly Away was the concert highlight.
And I got it. I was being shown something that I've always known is true.
God belongs to everyone. And everyone belongs to God.
Just a few more weary days and then,
I'll fly away.
To a land where joy shall never end,
I'll fly away.
I'll fly away, O Glory,
I'll fly away.
When I die, Hallelujah, bye and bye,
I'll fly away.
See the thing about faith is, everyone has it. Now not everyone puts it in worthwhile things. But hearing this room I had been judging all night sing about the weary days ahead before they flew to God made me realize we all think we're going to Heaven. We don't all think everybody's going. But if I let in everyone I thought was deserving and the girl with the rainbow t-shirt let in everybody she thought was deserving and the old man in the back row of my church let in everyone he thought was deserving we'd be well on our way to filling up Heaven. But how much bigger is God than any of us? How much bigger is God than all of us?
I believe we all are searching. Many of us have walked many steps in the wrong direction from where we want to be. I believe all are weary. I believe it'd be nice if we could just get our hand stamped to identify if we were in or out. Maybe we already have.
Jesus said He did not come to judge the world but to save it.
John 12:47
As I made my way from The Filmore that night, apple in hand, to walk many more miles before I was home I was filled with a sense of peace and a new conclusion about my life. I'll not waste another minute trying to decide who gets to go Heaven and who doesn't. I believe I'm going. I want to go. I wanna fly away. But do I derserve it? No. Is there anything I can do to earn it? No.
Grace isn't grace if I can choose it.
When you come to that place when you realize how utterly undeserving you are of God's love and then you find evidence of God's love in yourself and in your life you will know the full weight of grace. You will have reason to sing.
We all do.
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