Tell me, did you realize each word you spoke… would last? ~ The Skipperdees
Never truly knowing what to expect next is a very good way to describe spending time with our Atlanta friends, so therefore caution was tucked away in our pockets as we headed toward Duluth to our first Jeff Black venue.
A marvelous story-telling, song writing artist of the acoustic tool describes Mr. Black and his show well, but it was his accompanying duo act that made a lasting impression as I soaked in the provocative lyrics that modeled themselves to the rhythm of the twin’s masterful use of banjo and guitar.
They call themselves the Skipperdees, Emily and Catherine Backus, soon to be graduates from the University of Georgia (go dawgs), and their words with twang will not take a break from my thoughts. So I write…
It’s not so much I’m heralding their message, indeed, probably I’ll not. Some of their gritty lingo even stings my ears. Their passionate sadness toward the system is alluring though. So I think…
The dirge and lament they deliver is also chock full of one-liners that makes me query the clarity with which I carry good news.
When they sing, “Hell, I even took the plunge and got baptized,” followed by “Tell me where does all of our faith end up when… it dies,” and concludes before trumpet, “I can’t believe I can’t believe,” I’m drawn back to the earlier words, “Did you realize each word you spoke… would last?”
The “Plunge” is but one of their songs that takes a stab at the faith I treasure so dearly. They regularly allude to it and I can’t help but think, by their lyrics, that someone along the way presented a lasting message of a synthetic gospel, one that is no gospel at all.
Jesus had something to say of our choice of words, as did many of the authors of Scripture. Is it thinkable that our ‘conversations and actions’ can be tooled by the adversary to cultivate rejection? Is this one of the reasons the tongue is described as such a powerful wishy-washy force?
To my words here, Emily will probably respond, “I cannot change an old man’s ways, but I’ll show him my anger and I will not be ashamed. (Kyrie)”
To Emily and Catherine I wish I could say, “Listen to another’s music once more; this time, to the Wordsmith of our hearts.” And as for me?, I’m trying desperately to remember a simple tune from long ago instructing me of the urgency to mind my lips. Anyone to help?
- When in Atlanta, do as the Atlantans do? (mtsweat.com)