I have a playlist on my phone, with songs that I’ve gradually added to it over the years. The first song I added to the playlist was “Machine” by Imagine Dragons. Today I added “Roll Away Your Stone” by Mumford and Sons.
The playlist is called “Mormon Liberation.”
With the exception of Imagine Dragons and Tyler Glenn, none of the artists in my playlist used to be Mormon. Obviously, those two made of the majority of my playlist, in the beginning. I felt their music and the lyrics to their songs acutely. But today’s addition is different.
I haven’t listened to Mumford and Sons for many years. And the last time I listened to their music, I was quite solidly a Mormon.
I used to sing “Roll Away Your Stone” in the shower, when I was on my mission. I remember that London apartment, the rare, ten minutes I got to myself, in the bathroom, and how badly I missed good music. I missed singing, which I’ve always felt shy about, and only done under duress in public, for many years. But I missed my good music, up there in Canada. I missed it, and went through songs I knew and sang by heart to myself in my car, prior to the mission field. “Roll Away Your Stone,” I figured, was close enough to religious. Surely I, as a missionary, could sing that.
And I did. Somehow I managed to make some awesome rocking music a little sweeter. Less drums and stringy banjos. More just, basic, alto.
“Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine. Together we can see what we will find. Don’t leave me alone at this time For I’m afraid of what I will discover inside.”
If you read the lyrics to me now, however, this song does not push the Mormon agenda. To me, in honesty, hearing this song come up on a shuffle of “music you might like,” I listened to the lyrics, again, and heard, once more, my Mormon Liberation.
“You told me that I would find a hole Within the fragile substance of my soul.” (They did.)
“And I have filled this void with things unreal And all the while my character it steals.” (I filled it with Mormonism, and it absolutely did steal my character.)
“Stars, hide your fires. These here are my desires and I will give them up to you this time around. And so, I’ll be found, with my stake stuck in this ground, marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul… You have neither reason nor rhyme with which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine.”
All of the songs on my playlist are like this - full of words that ring true to a heart that’s gone through something grieving and expansive.
“I’m down on my knees. I’m begging you please. There’s no place in heaven for someone like me. Won’t you open the door and try me once more? Cause there’s no place in heaven for someone like me.”
“So throw your sticks and throw your stones ‘cause you ain’t gonna break my bones. If I’m a sinner then I don’t feel ashamed. Life goes on, and if I’m wrong, I guess I’ll burn in flames. Been up the river, and I’ve been down the drain. Life goes on, and if I’m wrong, I guess I’ll burn in flames.”
“It comes and goes in waves. It always runs back, but it’s never quite the same… When it pulls me under, will you make me stronger? Will you be my breath through the deep, deep water? Take me farther, give me one day longer. Will you be my breath through the deep, deep water? When I’m sinking like a stone, at least I know I’m not alone.”
“We were always made for love. We could always speak in tongues… I think of you whenever I see fire in the sky.”
“Oh, I am tired of abiding by your rules. Causing me to second guess My every single move. You don’t know who I am Or what I have been through, no. So don’t dare tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, ‘cause Not here to lose. Not here for you to choose How who we should be ‘Cause we’re not part of your machine.”
“I was born in that summer when the sun didn’t shine. I was given a name that doesn’t feel like it’s mine. Lived my life as the good boy I was told I should be. Prayed every night to a religion that was chosen for me.”
“Just take that dark cloud, wring it out to wash it down, but Don’t pray for us. We don’t need no Modern Jesus to roll with us. The only rule we need is never givin’ up. The only faith we have is faith in us.”
I remember when I got my first tattoo, driving home on my own, I listened to that first liberation song, Imagine Dragons’ “Machine,” and I cried.
“Cause I’ve been wondering When you’re gonna see I’m not for sale. I’ve been questioning When you gonna see I’m not a part of your machine. Not a part of your machine… All my life been sittin’ at the table.”
I was mad, and so SO proud of myself, for doing something that felt like a permanent way of owning myself, for the first time in my life.
As with grief, what it looks like changes from day to day. The angry, triumphant victory of Machine turned to the sorrowing grief of “Burn Out.”
“Sadness is my enemy. I fear time will age him gently. Walkin’ by my side for all these years, Seems that we’ve grown friendly. Happiness is beautiful to see. Won’t you box it up for me? For me? Oh, give me strength and give me peace. Does anyone out there want to hear me?
It’s just another downpour, don’t let it get the best of you. It’s only up from the floor, light everything inside of you. Don’t burn out, don’t burn out on me. Don’t burn out, Don’t burn out on me.”
“God, I could never be like you. I can’t change, I can’t change and I don’t want to. I’ve been on the run, so I’m not coming Sunday. It’s alright. I’ll probably talk to you at midnight.”
“I might be jaded and delusional But at least I found a home inside my head. This is for all those dreams I believed in. This is for all those doubts in my mind. This is a wild wild world that we live in. I won’t let anyone tell me I won’t survive. I’ll be just fine. I’ll be just fine.”
“I hung my heart out to dry On rooftops under blue skies. No, I never would have grown if I’d never been alone So when I find myself, I’ma bring it on home.”
When you go through grief, you find it everywhere. You find it in songs. You find the anger, the loss, the acceptance, the peace, the isolation, the denial, bargaining, panic, hope.
Losing your religion causes grief. Grief is messy, and I’m grateful for the musicians who have helped me put words to my thoughts, and music to my emotions, every single day.
“I found myself when I lost my faith.”
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