This past Memorial Day, I found myself amidst the vibrant atmosphere of Pisgah Brewery in Black Mountain, attending a concert by the renowned old-time bluegrass band, Old Crow Medicine Show. Accompanying my friend Natalie, a devoted fan, I was there to witness not just a performance, but an experience. While the music was captivating, it was Natalie’s immersion in the concert that truly caught my attention. She wasn’t just listening; she was living the music, word for word, sharing a profound connection with both the songs and the collective energy of fellow enthusiasts.
Confession time: my own familiarity with Old Crow Medicine Show’s extensive catalog is, regrettably, less than Natalie’s. I appreciate their sound, but my personal playlist is somewhat lacking. However, there’s one song that resonates deeply, a tune practically considered the anthem of Boone, North Carolina: Wagon Wheel. Originally penned by Bob Dylan and later embraced and popularized by Old Crow Medicine Show, its lyrics are instantly recognizable and deeply evocative:
So rock me momma like a wagon wheel
Rock me momma any way you feel
Hey momma rock me.
Rock me momma like the wind and the rain
Rock me momma like a southbound train
Hey momma rock me.
Then it happened. As the opening chords of Wagon Wheel filled the brewery, an almost spiritual transformation occurred. In that moment, surrounded by strangers becoming kin, swaying in unison, voices rising in shared song, I glimpsed something profound. It was, dare I say, a taste of what the kingdom of God might feel like. A spontaneous unity, a shared language of music, a collective outpouring of joy.
This experience sparked a thought: perhaps the church could learn a valuable lesson from that brewery in Black Mountain. It’s not about mimicking concert tactics to boost attendance. Elaborate light shows or catchy tunes aren’t the answer to engaging the disengaged. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. People come to church seeking something deeper, something authentic – the kingdom of God. Our role as a church community is to embody that kingdom, to live as citizens of that realm in our work, worship, and daily interactions.
We need to link arms, metaphorically and perhaps even literally, with those around us, even strangers, and sing the songs that have brought us to this shared space of faith. We need to hear the proclaimed word, but even more profoundly, we need to attune ourselves to the song in the heart of God, the melody of grace that underpins everything. When we truly hear that divine song, that voice of God, we, like Charles Wesley so eloquently wrote, find ourselves “lost in wonder, love, and praise.” We discover ourselves singing a song that feels ancient, imprinted on our souls long before conscious memory.
So, the next time you find yourself at a concert, take a moment to observe those who sing along with unrestrained passion. Let it be a reminder that the song of God, the song of unity, love, and shared experience, is vast enough for every voice. And we are all invited to join in, to lock arms and sing together. Will you answer the call?
