The Songwriter and the Christian

We are all of this union

Nathan Bell Plays "The Poisonous Snake"

One of my favorite people that I met while touring in the Midwest of the United States is as Christian as I am not.

He will know I am writing about him. He will also know that I mean it in the best way when I say that we are equally strange cats.

He won’t be offended when I say we are both opinionated and always in search of the next great Socratic verbal battle.

In fact, he goes so far as to post on his website a link to my website with the words, “he will challenge your thinking, I love this guy.”

And he won’t object when I say that, with the exception of his belief in God, and my lack thereof, we see the world very much in the same ways. Right down to how and why people should behave well.

It’s a puzzle to me, honestly, because whereas I have no highly internalized traditional belief system to defend, he could easily see my open objection to most things religious as a personal attack.

But he doesn’t, and that means he actually takes people for who they are, not who he thinks they should be.

And, BTW, his wife is equally enjoyable to be around, equally open hearted, equally funny.

They are two of the people who represent the philosophy underpinning my work as a writer and the way I live my daily life: that individual people, by and large, will usually surprise you with their kindness, goodness, and acceptance.

It’s only when the power hungry start looking for pawns to sacrifice in battle for that last million dollars, or that little state house office, or even as head of the School Board, that an ugliness starts that can grow and grow.

That’s the thing, though, sometimes you’re playing a very politically charged show in Utrech, Netherlands, and afterwards, a guy shows up to discuss how much he loved the show, right down to very specific moments of guitar playing that he feels owe something to two of your favorites, Taj Mahal and Jessie Ed Davis

That’s not just specific, that’s weirdly specific. I can’t remember ever having anybody catch the Jesse Ed Davis references in my soloing.

And that means he paid damn close attention to everything. So it kind of takes me aback when I see that he’s wearing a black sweatshirt with a home made iron-on of the words “Trump 2020.” And he goes out of his way to say that he doesn’t agree with my politics, but he stayed for two full sets.

And he took the time to come up and have a pleasant conversation, meant to make me feel good about what I do.

I ask myself, was this maybe the most important show I played over a run of 12 shows simply because this guy showed up and listened?

Political, social justice songwriters don’t expect to play shows that cross the cultural divide for even one audience member. But it’s what I want, for my stories to be heard by people who usually see themselves portrayed as caricatures in hope that they will recognize some truth and kindness in play. So this is very cool.

One guy, that’s a small thing.

Because everything good, like everything bad, starts with something small. To survive and carry forward any good in this world, while fighting the bad, you have to see when the small things start.

How could he miss what I sang? Did even a few words from American Blues or American Gun sneak in and root around his brain so the next time he hears somebody deny that there is systemic racism, or a dangerous apathy to an armed population, a tiny light starts to flash, illuminating the idea that he doesn’t have to instantly change his mind, he just has to entertain the idea that his mind should be flexible?

I’d like to think that nobody could buy a ticket and sit for two hours at one of my shows and not feel which way the wind was blowing.

It’s a gentle breeze right now, but it’s there if you pay attention.

It blows from my house in Tennessee.

My crush hangs an American flag outside our house. She says that the people who want to run this country as a religious Caliphate or to fill their own piggy banks, don’t get to steal the symbols. She sings the National Anthem.

I have never sung the National Anthem, but I’m coming around to her way of thinking. Maybe if it’s OUR anthem, the people who don’t want us here won’t be able to call it theirs. That’s a small step. It’s a good step.

I don’t care for organized religion, but to be fair, I don’t care for any “thought leadership.” It’s too short a line from one man’s good idea to one man’s desire to rule everything.

I’ve already written about my character, The Right Reverend Crow, who exists partly because I’ve come to believe that some people aren’t complete without a tether to a community that needs to find love in the spaces that we can’t see. And I got ordained, maybe as the South’s only atheist tent preacher, so I could do the vows for non-traditional weddings.

The Rev loves people, all people, but like Trickster, and Coyote, he isn’t trustworthy. You have to watch your back. There’s no free lunch with the Right Reverend Crow!

Folding Money from Red White and American Blues

The Rev gets into it with Churches and coffee shops, because, for some strange reason, Chattanooga has more than a few coffee houses that serve as fronts, some more obviously than others, for churches. And in most cases, those churches have missions and philosophies that discriminate specifically against LGBTQ+ people.

I just found out that my favorite coffee shop has been acquired by a coffee shop that is tied to a church that opposes marriage equality. I bought a package of their coffee beans every two weeks for at least 5 years. Now I have to find new coffee.

I sent a message to the owner telling him why I won’t buy that coffee any more. He sent back a waffling reply offering to “dialogue” with me about a new approach towards the LGBTQ+ community.

Here’s what it says on the Church (connected to the coffeehouse) website: “We believe in God's design for marriage & relationship as one of male and female.”

The new approach sure looks like the old approach.

I told him that I’d buy his coffee again when the Church and coffeeshop changed their policy towards human beings.

I really, really love that coffee.

And this is why the Rev gets into it with coffee shops in the Chattanooga area. They’ve interfered with my morning coffee.

To paraphrase Pops, Mister Preacher, get your own cup of coffee.

I don’t know my Christian friend’s position on marriage equality because he’s never stated it in my presence. I know that he speaks of people with absolute love and I’ve personally witnessed his kindness to others. I’d be surprised to find that he didn’t see love as love, no exceptions.

The rev doesn’t see any need to get into it with him. In fact, the Rev thinks that the Rev needs more friends of faith who love everybody.

The Rev and his Christian friend talk to each other for hours about family, working, the road, guitars, and more about family and working.

I believe we want the same things.

He sends me emails that say “we need to get together soon, before we get much older.”

He’s right.

And I owe him a cup of coffee.

A new cup of coffee, dammit.

Love somebody,

Nathan