I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees,
I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees,
Asked the Lord above, “Have mercy, now, save poor Bob if you please.”
If you’re a fan of blues, jazz and rock music, you’ve likely come across the name, Robert Johnson. Yet most people have no clue who he was; in fact, most of his short life remains a mystery.
Born into the Mississippi Delta of 1911, to a poor mother and stepfather sharecropper, Robert wanted nothing to do with the Jim Crow south, let alone sharecropping. The only thing that really spoke to him was music.
In 1929, Robert met and married a woman about whom he felt as passionate as his music. Robert took a job in the fields, to support his family. However, in 1930, his wife and child died tragically in childbirth. The sorrow of that broke him, and Robert turned his back on religion, on life…on everything. But he swore to dedicate the rest of his life to the one passion that wouldn’t abandon him: his music.
Hanging out in juke joints, Robert learned to play the blues on an old six-string acoustic guitar. One of many blues musicians of that era, Robert got his share of playing time in old juke joints…but never stood out. He was considered a novice – unremarkable at best, until…
Suddenly, he disappeared for six months. Nobody knew where he’d gone, though rumors abounded. Then, one night at a juke joint in Banks, Mississippi, Robert Johnson burst through the door, toting a seven-string guitar. When he started playing, everyone and everything…stopped. They’d never heard anything so remarkable…so haunting. The way he could bend the rhythms and the melodies, stretch a chord and wail with such soul-wrenching left audiences gasping.
As the story went, Robert had gone to the crossroad…met there by Satan, who took Robert’s old guitar, tuned it, added a seventh string, and returned it to Robert along with an incredibly gifted talent…in exchange for his soul. Over the next six years, Robert was approached like royalty. He was offered recording contracts and recorded some fifty-five different tracks, before moving on from New York to Chicago, and all places in between.
Never appearing more than one night in any given place, Robert Johnson roamed from town to town, amazing audiences and drawing rave reviews…while moving on, never spending more than one night in any given place.
Alas, Robert was also a womanizer…his amorous dalliances with various women eventually compelled one irate husband to poison Robert’s favorite booze. Thus, within a few days, Robert Johnson was no more…dead at twenty-seven. He became the inaugural inductee into the infamous “27 Club”: a collection of other popular musicians, gone prematurely at that tender age. (Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Curt Cobain, Amy Winehouse…just some of the more illustrious names in that ill-fated “club.”). Only two photographs still exist of this enigmatic man.
“So, why are you telling us this, Carl?” you’d be forgiven for wondering.
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Wednesday last, my neurologist walks in after being given the lowdown by his assistant, on my body’s more recent displays of immunocompromised symptoms. He knows my dedication to preserving my voice. Showing grave concern, he came and sat down by me.
“Carl, there’s something I think you need to hear,” he began, haltingly. “Yes, your ability to sing is so important to you. But I think you are at a crossroads. You appear to have reached a point where – left unchecked – the actual source of your cancer, given how virulent it is, could spread. I am very concerned that these other symptoms may be your body’s way of trying to tell you…it’s time to consider more serious options.”
He kept talking, but I didn’t hear much. I’d heard enough. I’d heard too much.
I disappeared into a parking lot…and let the tears flow. I wasn’t weeping for fear of the cancer, though it has my attention. I was weeping at the very notion that the God of Jacob, Abraham and Moses might take back the instrument of communication with this mortal coil. Why?
“What, in the name of your Son, do you actually want from me?” I railed.
His response? …………silence.
You want to know the cruel irony of all this? If Satan were to appear, offer to give me back my voice – “fine tune” the instrument, so to speak – and promise me some superficial acclaim, I do believe he would deliver on that…for a price.
God, however, is neither superficial, nor patronizing. His responses are far more respectful of our free will…and infinitely more maddening, more vulnerable. He lets us have our little pity parties. And so, He is patient. He wants to draw us to Himself – such is His infinite and profound love. That is the God that I can love…even when He’s being an obtuse ass. (Yes…I really said that. He and I have our moments.)
So…I listen.
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This past Sunday was the first Sunday of Lent. In the Gospel, we read of Jesus’ withdrawal into the desert, fasting and praying for forty days. I am beginning to appreciate the more why Jesus did that. He knew He would need the strength of will and courage to see through His mission…its ultimate purpose. He, too, was at a crossroad, when Satan tempted Him.
While I hasten to point out that I do NOT compare myself, in any way, with Jesus, I humbly submit that – in His humanity – we find our own fragile nature, our image in God’s likeness. That likeness is a tortured awareness of our frailty…and a grace deeper than any sorrows we bear.
Approaching my next appointment with my surgeon on Tuesday, I accept this yoke, whatever it entails. We all, ultimately, face Golgotha. I know neither the numbering of my steps, nor how my will shall be tested. I know neither what will be discovered on Tuesday, nor the course of that path.
In truth, the search for my voice has become the search for His voice.
1 comment
I too am, or was, at a crossroads but am beginning to realize I may be heading the right direction You are on the right path. I have met so many kind people along the way, it has restored my faith in mankind. You are a kind gentle man and Jesus loves you enough to show you the scars on his hands, as He is doing me. Your relationship with Him is special. Unique. We must let it all go. He will carry us over the bumps in the road. We just have to know we have no control over our health going badly. We just have to stop and let Him take the wheels. Be true to ourselves and especially Him. If He closes a door, He opens another door. Faith is where it is. He didn’t say it would be easy.
You gave it to Him. He restored your voice. It may be weak for awhile but if it is meant to be, he will restore it completely like he has before. If not he will open the next door.
I am slow to learn. I always knew in my heart, Jesus is the way. Satan bends every rule to fit into our lives. If we try to follow Jesus, He gets stronger. Don’t listen to his foolish reasonings. He let me lose my voice, but gave me a song others could sing and sends His angels to help me. I pray I follow His will no matter the cost to myself. I know He will guide me into the path of righteousness and make Satan go away. Satan has nothing to offer us that is free. The consequences will follow us all our lives. Jesus is there to make sure we don’t carry them to the grave. This is not our home. We are just passing through. We must learn to live here first. He gave us the choice. Your friend in Christ. Jenny. I hope this comment helps. You certainly have helped me. Thank you. I pray He has guided my words. We are all tempted. As you said, Satan even tempted Jesus. God sent His angel to strengthen Jesus so He could go all the way to the cross for us.