Feeling drawn to sin lately? I know.
In recent years, I have watched as you have replaced my name in your YouTube search bar with exceedingly lecherous films. Pirated 360p clips of a musical about a green witch? Greedy! A glorified feast of Double Big Mac, Cheesy Hash Browns, & Chicken Nuggets (no talking)? Gluttonous! Rappers mopping up their bodily fluids? Lustful! Starting a Popsugar Fitness video and quitting seven minutes in? Slothful!!
It’s time you remember my name.
At age fourteen, we reached the very peak of our harmony together. You were so steeped in guilt that you muttered the Act of Contrition when the addition signs on your math homework too closely resembled upside-down crosses. A mere glance at a singular gluteus maximus—especially your own—drove you to the nearest confessional. The very zipper of your jeans incited such carnal desire that you switched to elastic waistbands. I thought I would never need to fear the day you would stray from our path.
You sang my tune loudly, in front of crowds of hundreds of people, backed by a middle-aged virgin on acoustic guitar and a sad girl who was prohibited from being an Altar Boy. You felt like you were in a band! But not the kind that did substances or committed fornication. It was the safe kind of band that didn’t rely on fans, because your biggest fan was the one who would grant you eternal life. Your voice rang out above the giggles of peers who found unusually salacious meaning in phrases like “come and live forever” and “His touch” and “I feel Him inside of my body”.
Although years have passed and sins have been committed and your Tinder profile now identifies you as a queer atheist, you still have not forgotten my sound. Suddenly you awoke this morning with my lyrics, my melody, my basic rhyme scheme back on repeat in your mind once more!
And that memorability, that longevity is just what makes my music superior! I stick to no more than four notes per line! I write for altos! I repeat the refrain over and over! I simplify the language to make it accessible to target audiences (second-graders and eighty six year-olds)! And then I make you believe it’s cool to sing my songs in front of others, Sunday after Sunday, alongside a group of youth as confused and ashamed as you are.
But after all this time, what was it that prompted my return, you may wonder? Perhaps it was an advertisement in the corner of your screen or atop your head on the subway, something with a tagline that sounded vaguely biblical. As the primary host to the voice of God, I have that kind of power. The power to draw you in with my seemingly innocent goal of entertainment, then seep into your subconscious. I am the Word of the Lord. I am Bob The Tomato from Veggie Tales. I am the handsome CGI lion in Chronicles of Narnia. I am E.T from E.T. (it makes sense if you really think about it).
And I promise I’m still just as exciting as all these things were to you as a child. So I invite you—hum a few lines. Know his eternal love. Experience His body. Feel His power inside of you. Come as you are. Keep coming—okay, don’t make it weird.