The tragic thing is that this story has been played out countless times, throughout the history of the church. It's not just a story. It's our story.
My little town is named after a Voortrekker who was murdered (essentially while lighting the proverbial peace-pipe) by the then Zulu king, Dingaan (if you've ever watched Pocahontas, Disney may have helped you acquire the necessary empathy to not judge the king too harshly. After all... he was right about what the Europeans would do in the end). The town also has a large German community (mostly the descendants of missionaries), and one of the oldest buildings in the town is a Swedish mission. The point is that everywhere that Cecil Rhodes, Hernan Cortez, Lord Mountbatten (and all the other colonial nutcases) went, the Lamb was also sure to go (if you'll allow me a little nursery rhyme reference).
One might say that it's a huge testament to the powerful work of the Holy Spirit that any of the colonized nations could receive the gospel through the thick layer of hypocrisy it came packaged in. On the other hand, one might say that the brand of good news that was purveyed to them did exactly what the European authorities hope it would. It produced a large, pliable (think of the Paraguayan Indians marching to their slaughter while singing hymns and carrying crosses) workforce, indebted to their European masters for rescuing them from their sins. It also provided an easy means of spreading the propaganda which maintained the status quo (the pulpit). A key aspect of this gospel-propaganda opiate was a doctrine of "I'll fly away, Oh glory!"
I'll fly away! Oh Glory!
I'll fly away!
When I die, hallelujah, bye and bye
According to Wikipedia, this is one of the most recorded gospel songs in the history of the church:I'll fly away!
According to interviews, Brumley came up with the idea for the song while picking cotton on his father's farm in Rock Island, Oklahoma. Brumley says that as he worked he was "humming the old ballad that went like this: 'If I had the wings of an angel, over these prison walls I would fly,' and suddenly it dawned on me that I could use this plot for a gospel-type song." The song Brumley described appears to be "The Prisoner's Song" It was an additional three years later until Brumley worked out the rest of the song, paraphrasing one line from the secular ballad to read, "Like a bird from prison bars has flown" using prison as an analogy for earthly life. Brumley has stated, "When I wrote it, I had no idea that it would become so universally popular."It's song number 601 in the African American Heritage Hymnal. The theme of how "One glad morning, when this life is over, I'll fly away" is a common one in this hymnal.
The popularity of the nation of the escape of the ghost from the machine makes sense if you're a slave. Or the native of a colonized country. Or an addict at a rehab centre. Or a Paraguayan Indian being lead to the slaughter. 'Cause if we're all going to fly away one day and escape the prison that is an embodied life in a fallen world, to be an eternally comforted soul, seated forever in heavenly places with Christ, then my suffering is only temporary and ultimately meaningless. Then we should all sing along:
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home,
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Coming for to carry me home,
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
I looked over Jordan, and what did I see
Coming for to carry me home?
A band of angels coming after me,
Coming for to carry me home.
Coming for to carry me home?
A band of angels coming after me,
Coming for to carry me home.
Sometimes I'm up, and sometimes I'm down,
(Coming for to carry me home)
But still my soul feels heavenly bound.
(Coming for to carry me home)
(Coming for to carry me home)
But still my soul feels heavenly bound.
(Coming for to carry me home)
The brightest day that I can say,
(Coming for to carry me home)
When Jesus washed my sins away.
(Coming for to carry me home)
(Coming for to carry me home)
When Jesus washed my sins away.
(Coming for to carry me home)
If I get there before you do,
(Coming for to carry me home)
I'll cut a hole and pull you through.
(Coming for to carry me home)
(Coming for to carry me home)
I'll cut a hole and pull you through.
(Coming for to carry me home)
If you get there before I do,
(Coming for to carry me home)
Tell all my friends I'm coming too.
(Coming for to carry me home)
(Coming for to carry me home)
Tell all my friends I'm coming too.
(Coming for to carry me home)
However, if we are not going to fly away as liberated souls, but be raised up as glorified bodies to live in resurrection power in the New Jerusalem, in which our Lord has come to make his dwelling in the (newly perfected) dust among his children, then what happens in the body matters. And we should be singing resurrection songs.
We should be singing with John Mark McMillan:
Skeleton bones stand at the sound of eternity
On the lips of the found
And gravestones roll
To the rhythm of the sound of you
Skeleton bones stand at the sound of eternity
On the lips of the found
So separate those doors
And let the son of resurrection in.
Oh let us adore the
Son of Glory drenched in love
Open up your gates before him
Crown Him, stand Him up
We want your blood to flow inside our body
We want your wind inside our lungs
We just wanna' love you
We just wanna' love you
His albums are full of resurrection themes. But his songs are generally a little inaccessible to the average worshipper. So we sing "I can only imagine" by Casting Crowns instead. After all, it's easier, and it was on the Billboard top 100 charts for 16 weeks. And I don't think John will ever get there. So that's that.