I can usually explain why I did something.
Give me a few minutes, and I can supply the background, clarify my intentions, describe the pressure I was under, and help you understand why things weren’t quite what they appeared to be.
In my younger days I thought it was clever but looking back, many times, it was just pure manipulation... and demonstrated the truth that I really didn't trust God- I was always in charge of protecting myself.
And so over the years I have been in situations where either through interviewing students for discipline cases and trying to be a peacemaker in conflict situations.
I even remember the famous line from the Dr House series: "All people lie"
Those themes and memories is where “We All Alibi” began.
We all know the famous words from Jesus: “The truth will set you free.” I kept thinking about how much effort we put into avoiding the very thing that promises freedom. We justify, rationalize, soften the language, and rearrange the facts until we can live with the version we’ve created.
Sometimes we even believe it.
The title turns alibi into something we do. We all build a case. We all have a story ready when the finger turns our way.
There's always more to my story
When the guilty one is here
There really may be more to the story. Circumstances matter. Motives matter. People deserve a fair hearing. But I have to ask why I’m so willing to consider those things for myself and so reluctant to consider them for somebody else.
The second verse puts that habit into everyday language- I wanted the lyrics to show juxtaposition:
Your anger is a bitter heart
Mine is righteous indignation
Your silence is a punishment
Mine is self-preservation
I recognize those distinctions because I’ve made them. I know what it feels like to give my behavior a respectable name while assigning somebody else the worst possible motive.
And once I start doing that, an honest conversation becomes difficult. I’m already defending a verdict.
This is an old human problem. In the garden, Adam points toward Eve—and even toward the God who gave her to him. Abraham conceals the truth about Sarah because he is afraid of what might happen if he tells it. Moses offers objection after objection when God calls him to go.
Those stories involve different circumstances, but I recognize the fear running through them: What will happen to me if I stand here exposed? What might the truth cost?
I understand that fear. An explanation gives me something to stand behind.
The bridge carries that instinct into a courtroom:
When it's you, I'm the prosecutor
When it's me, I'm the defense
Your worst day becomes the evidence
Mine gets labeled circumstance
That may be the most revealing part of the song for me. I can remember the stones somebody threw at me with remarkable accuracy. The ones that departed from my own left hand tend to require a little more effort.
Writing those lines is easier than letting them examine me.
I could turn this whole song into a complaint about people who won’t take responsibility. I could think of names, recall conversations, and build another convincing case. But then I’d be doing exactly what the song describes.
Before I weigh somebody else’s explanation, I need to weigh my own words. Am I telling the truth? Am I leaving out the part that makes me look bad? Am I explaining what happened, or trying to make sure I escape responsibility for it?
When Jesus speaks about truth and freedom in John 8, He is speaking about something deeper than getting an uncomfortable admission off our chest. He speaks about slavery to sin and the freedom the Son gives. That matters to me because honesty exposes a need I cannot explain away.
I need forgiveness. I need grace.
And yet I can spend an astonishing amount of energy trying to establish that I didn’t really need either one in this particular situation.
That tension led to the ending:
Here I sit in chains
With the key to set me free
All I have to do
Is admit the truth about me
The key is an image of the admission I keep refusing to make. It costs me the story in which I was innocent all along.
I wanted the song to end with that struggle still unresolved. The singer recognizes the cell, understands what he is doing, and still holds tightly to his defense. I know that hesitation. Knowing I should tell the truth doesn’t mean I’m ready to say it out loud.
“We All Alibi” is a song I need to hear myself.
Especially when I’m certain somebody else needs to hear it.
It was me. I was wrong. Please forgive me.
I can write a whole song about those words. I still need to learn to say them.
I know the early Jayopsis Spotify playlist has been dark- but I am trying to build a worldview that hopefully will soon show more light. The worse the bad news is, the better the Good News will be!
No comments:
Post a Comment