The Day The Music Died....And Then Was Resurrected

Music has been an important part of my life for more years than I care to think about.
Earliest memories I have is listening to Tennessee Ernie Ford sing "16 Tons" on the radio. Could a clarinet be any more spooky than the intro to this song. I remember the feeling I had the first time I heard Duane Eddy play those first notes of Rebel Rouser. Still get the same feeling even after all these years when I catch that song on the Oldie Station.

In the late 50's my brother got a High Fidelity Stereo Record player. O.k. It was on now. We had our own personal Juke box there in the Bynum household. Well, he had the juke box, but I got to listen to it. Everything went up a notch when my brother brought home a 45 rpm record of a group from Lubbock Texas. Young man named Buddy Holly was making his move in the music world. My brother put that 45 on the spindle, turned the knob as the 45 dropped to the platter and began to spin. The needle arm raised up like some kind of futuristic Robot.......swung over the record and slowly descended to the point where needle met vinyl. Suddenly the room was filled with the sound of an electric guitar.  A voice proclaimed from that Stereo...."Well, that'll be the day". I was hooked.

There would be other bands that came in and out of my life as time passed. Some made an everlasting impact on this ol boy. The Beatles....The very reason I wanted to learn how to play the guitar. Procol Harum....a British attempt at being a blues band. Not Delta blues....but British blues.

Things changed again for me in 1979.
Vicki and I had returned to our roots and had started attending church. During this time, I was made aware that my love for music had actually turned into a worship of music. It was the most important thing in my life. I had amassed a huge collection of albums, 45's, 8-track tapes as well as cassette tapes. Even had a room in my house that was totally devoted to stereo equipment and my collection of music. You see my heart had placed all of this "stuff" to a level of importance that was not healthy. It had become my god so to speak. One evening, while sitting in my music room, God spoke to me and asked me "which do you love the most? Your music? Or me? What was I going to say? I love you, Lord. But that wasn't the truth. He revealed my heart to me and I was totally ashamed of what I saw. I did love the music and everything associated with it more than I loved God. The next part was something I did not want to hear. "If you truly love me, then rid yourself of these things." Get rid of my albums....my 45's....my 8-tracks!"

I wrestled with this for days, until finally one Sunday night I could not stand it any longer. I back the car up to the door of the house, raised the trunk and began to fill it with all my "Stuff". I would love to say that the heaven's parted and I heard God say..."Well, done my faithful servant". I didn't. I was angry that God would ask me to do this. So a little over a thousand albums filled that car,  and I drove to the mall where I worked. Found a secluded trash dumpster and began to transfer the albums to the dumpster.

I remember going home thinking, "Now what am I going to listen to?" Gospel music? Oh no....4 white guys in matching leisure suits, slicked back hair and wing tips, belting out harmony!" But God knew best. It wasn't the type of music that offended him (as some wanted to teach us the evil's of rock and roll). It was the simple fact that music had replaced God as #1 in my life. My love now laid in a dumpster at the Gadsden Mall.

Weeks passed by and I felt like an addict who needed a fix. During this time, I met a young man, Bill Anderson, who also worked at the mall. We hit it off from the start, both having a love for music. Bill shared his story and his Jesus with me. But the best part was to come. He invited me over to his apartment one night to play me an album he thought I might like. Little did I know that this night was going to change me for the better. He placed the album on the turntable, place the needle onto the vinyl, and once more what came out of those speakers caught my heart and my attention. The album? How The West Was One". The musician? Phil Keaggy. Never had I heard such guitar playing before. But this time, the music...as well as the musician... all pointed to the God of the universe.

My first encounter with "Jesus Music"....
IT was new...it was fresh...it was something that stirred my soul, and the best part....it was God-given to my generation. There would be other albums to follow this one......
Larry Norman.....
2nd Chapter of Acts.....
Mark Heard......
Malcom and Alwyn....
Barry McGuire......
Honeytree....
Sweet Comfort Band...
Bethlehem.......
Dogwood......

What an incredible God. He had asked me to give up the very thing I loved the most, and yet returned to me something that fed my soul and my love for music. Guess what? That love continues to this day, but it resides in its proper place. God is first in my life for now and always.
Just wanted to share a bit of my story....hope I didn't bore you too much.

God on you....
mbb