Saints of Doubt: Mark Salomon

Patron Saint of Pioneers

There is an old saying: “the pioneers take the arrows, the settlers take the land.”  Which is interesting because the best contemporary translation of Hebrews 12:1-2 goes like this:

¹ Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, ² fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.*

Pioneers get killed, settlers enjoy the land.  Thanks, Jesus.  And thank you too, Mark Salomon, lead singer of the most awesomest God band ever.

All my theological life, I have been walking in Mark’s footsteps. 

A young fundamentalist, hot-headed, arguing for the faith, condemning all outsiders to the flames:

...watching you torture yourself 
and whoever else you can bring down 
with you... 
...a song took from our souls 
a home that is our own 
we're all born remembering 
but few of us will know" 
the tip of your tongue 
a memory in mind 
just outside of you... 
will you wake to find 
the rest you so clearly seek 
or painfully realize that it's lost 
forever? 
suffer.

Lost in guilt, desiring redemption:

with a sigh i greet the day/ i feel the morning on my face/ weary at the moment i awake/ even as i lie/ the thought returns to mind/ "welcome to the rest of your life"./ somewhere i've lost my way/ from saved to stray and failing/ in silence my spirit pleads,/ is the vision lost/ or has it been passed on?/ is there any use continuing?

Confused but confident:

But I think I know the way,/ I got a promise on the mind,/ and I'll be looking for what's mine/ Sovereign stillness whispers trust in me/ In just a little while/ They'll wish that they were silent/

Keep waiting,/ I'll be right on time/ Keep waiting,/ I'll be right on time

Betrayed by “brothers and sisters”:

The usual mourners attend/ eager to pay their last respects/ say what they usually say/ and hope today will somehow be different/ 'We welcome you into our fold/ We've been waiting/ Always have room for one more/ Will you be staying?'/

it's a time-honored tradition we hold/ we build up and then tear down our own/ now I know why I never come home/ I get tired of climbing up out of this hole

Abandoned by the church:

Your steady stream of throwaway words has flooded/ this already crowded room/ I've lost my taste for the race and the running/ there's nothing here to prove/ all I want/

want to know is what you're waiting for/

I'll flood the wreckage build a bridge into the next age and/ say goodbye and leave a cloud of dust behind

I could go on, but you got the idea four songs ago.  In a church culture that has selectively deleted the Psalms, Mark taught me that worship includes complaint, doubt, frustration, and fear.  He had already been to those places, committed them feverishly, passionately to disc; he had experienced it all, a journey out of fundamentalism and into the sundown motel.  Honestly, faithfully, never pulling punches, always telling the truth.

So they shot him for it.

On the road, pastors rejected him because he wouldn’t preach (as if any one of his songs weren’t worth ten thousand sermons).  He was viewed with suspicion for doubting and revealing the scars he earned in church.  He and his band were consigned to the Christian music ghetto where they would never fit in (truthtellers rarely do).  And yet, the band plays on.

It sounds strange to say, but Mark Salomon is one of the top five most influential theologians in my life.  His is a faith of relentless heartbreak, private suffering, enduring commitment, and exuberant, irrational hope.

Which is, of course, the faith of the cross.  If he had a bumper sticker, it would read:

My boss was tortured to death for blasphemy and sedition.

Here’s to the Patron Saint of Pioneers:

*For a quick exegetical explanation for why this is a better translation, see this post.

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