Everyone has a song that means something to them. And for me, ‘My Church’ by Maren Morris is one of those songs. It has followed me for the best part of almost ten years, and recently I have had cause to reflect on how its informed my relationship with faith, religion, spirituality, and music.
I remember where I was the first time I heard it: sat at my desk scrolling through iTunes. I can’t remember what songs I was downloading at the time but I noticed the title of this one and clicked to take a listen. I’m not sure what I was expecting but what I heard deeply impacted me in a moment. After that, I couldn’t get enough of it. I’ve always thought there’s something about stumbling across a song that you never intentionally searched for, but that speaks to you when you hear it, that makes it extra special. That was certainly the case with this song, which I’d discovered before it became a hit, so the idea of coming across it “by accident” is a phrase I can never quite believe.
‘My Church’ played into a melting pot of songs that I was discovering as part of a new wave of Country Music. ‘Nashville (Grey Skies)’ by The Shires had lifted the lid on what has become a passion for the genre back in 2014. At the same time, ‘Follow Your Arrow’ by Kacey Musgraves had become a song fueled with encouragement against a heart of low self-esteem. And ‘Something in the Water’ by Carrie Underwood gave fresh expression to a Pentecostal-soaked faith that had become burdensome and was in some ways without a home. Then came Radio 2‘s pop-up station, dedicated to Country and broadcasting live from C2C. That weekend, in March 2015, is self-described as “my Country Music conversion”. Even then, I was using religious language to describe my experience. So when I heard ‘My Church’ for the first time, it is perhaps no surprise that it struck a chord, and became both a lens through which to interpret and a place from which to dialogue with my own Christian faith.
Following its release as part of her debut album ‘Hero’, ‘My Church’ came to act as a lovely (perhaps even necessary) counterpoint to my relationship with the institution of the Church. I had for a long time found myself uncomfortable with the evangelical environment in which I had become and grown as a Christian. There was a black-and-white certainty, a conservative conformity, and a culturally-restraining cloud that hung over my spirituality when I was in a church environment. This was largely separate and disconnected from my lived spirituality outside of it, which on the one hand expressed much greater freedom but, on the other, I was having a different struggle with – namely to communicate and even name it as “Christian” for fear of rejection, mockery or fierce criticism.
Into this context dropped Maren‘s song, which seemed to be able to hold both facets of my spiritual person in tandem. It forged a sort of middle way that took the language of Christianity and the experience of listening to Country Music and melded them together to articulate a very personal perspective on faith. I could relate, for I too felt that there was a judgemental attitude in church in contrast to the liberating lyrics of Country Music’s emotional honesty. The Holy Spirit was present in my listening to ‘Wild Silence’ (The Wandering Hearts) as much as in the middle of worship during a Sunday service. Still today, my soul is sometimes revived in quiet contemplation; sometimes by putting on a Tenille Townes record. ‘My Church’ captured something of what was going on in my heart; some kind of answer to a question with which I’ve always wrestled: Is the power of art evidence of God at work?
This relationship between religion and spirituality, faith and music, art and God, would feed my interest to such an extent that, when the opportunity arose to write about it as part of my Masters degree, I chose to undertake a lyrical analysis of ‘My Church’. What I found, without going into too much fascinating detail, was a dynamic, fluid, yet coherent religious experience – a form of “lived religion” made up of “a specifically Christian morality and a sacramentally-functioning country music”, to use my exact words. I look back on that essay fondly and still think it has something important to say. It made me fall in love with the song even more, and I wonder whether there is some unfinished business in the realm of Country Music and contemporary faith to explore. Above all else, it gave legitimacy to my interactions with God through music, which in turn allowed my faith to retain some form of life at a time when it could have easily died such was my frustration with the institutional side of the Church.
By that point, in 2019, I had spent the best part of two years exploring a sense of vocation. This was initiated off the back of a few conversations with people who had seen in me a calling to ministry, which they had interpreted as priesthood. The problem was that I had never felt the same, and so I’d been grappling with what God might be saying, all the while fighting off those who just wanted me to fit into a neat conformist box, without ever throwing in the towel and walking away entirely from what was fast becoming an assured Anglican identity. The turning point for me was in my conversation with the Bishop in early 2020, when in his wisdom he identified, out of all this information and my passion for the arts, the role of a Deacon, a position that I had never heard of before. But the more I looked into after, the more it seemed to fit, as if made to measure, not only capturing everything that I had been thinking and saying but representing something of who I was as a person.
I’ve often thought that ‘My Church’ came to lie fallow during this period. But as I reflect on my journey towards becoming a Deacon, in those strange two years of COVID lockdowns, I wonder whether actually its influence had been implicit throughout. For a Deacon is described as being a bridge between church and the world: an in-between existence, if you like; residing in a liminal space where boundaries are blurred. And at the heart of ‘My Church’? A song that mentions the institution but opens up the possibility of faith beyond its walls. A third way, if you will, which is often the hardest to walk. Another reason why this song has been such an encouragement down the years. For not only in faith but life am I a person whose natural position is to sit on the fence, consider both sides, and then offer an invitation to “meet me in the middle”. I quote another of Maren‘s songs here deliberately. For though the context of ‘The Middle’ is a domestic dispute, the act of negotiation, or mediation, that it seeks in the aftermath is a loose metaphor for attempts to (re)connect and dialogue with typically-patriarchal institutions.
This thought crossed my mind recently whilst reading ‘Her Country‘ by Marissa R Moss. There is something in not only Maren‘s story but Kacey‘s too, about rebelling against the norms of Music Row in order to remain true to self, that inspires my own walk with God in the shadow of the Church. To those inside the institution, I am always having to justify myself as a Deacon. They don’t get it. They don’t understand it. And so their reaction is to ask that repetitive question, “Have you thought about going all the way?” A reference to becoming a priest, as if my current existence is somehow forever lacking. Or their response is more subliminal, assuming a priestly bias that leads them to utter phrases that homogenise and exclude. I’ve even had a run-in with one of the “old-guard” recently, for want of a better phrase, who tried to fit me into their own understanding and judge me accordingly. I was surprised by my own resilience in the face of their underhanded criticism. But sometimes, it feels like it would be a lot easier to simply follow the crowd.
This is why I love Maren Morris. It’s why I love Kacey Musgraves too. For despite the pressure to conform, they don’t. Not for the sake of it but because their wish to be authentic wins out. They are not willing to compromise if it means their ability to be honest will to some degree be curtailed. It strikes me that as I write this I’m also reminded that Jesus too refused to obey the rules. He was exasperated at religion that had become devoid of spirituality and consumed by power. Tradition used to control rather than serve. At present, I find the way of the world defines success by way of attaining positions that confer legitimacy; targets to be met that are quantifiable and meant to be publicly celebrated when achieved. In this context, ‘My Church’ has become part of a wider counter-cultural message for me. Because “I don’t want to be a part of the good ol’ boys club”, to quote Kacey. I just want to try and serve out of a place of love and creativity.
Not that I haven’t critiqued some of the lines in ‘My Church’ which don’t quite tally with my Christian belief. Most recently, “I’ve fallen down from grace / a few too many times” has been counteracted by those of ‘From the Inside Out’ by Hillsong. “A thousand times I’ve failed / still your mercy remains / and should I stumble again / still I’m caught in your grace” reminds me of God’s unconditional love and unrelenting grace in a way that matches my own rather than Maren‘s experience. Yet when frustrations bubble, my identity challenged, or temptation knocks at the door, “I [still] find my soul revival / singing every single verse” to songs often from the world of Country Music (and sometimes beyond) too. It may not be what the purists want to hear. But I find, at this complex intersection of faith, music, religion, creativity, and spirituality, that I am most fully alive. ‘My Church’ reflects something of that experience, and will continue to contribute and speak into it for many more years to come, I suspect. At the same time, it joins so many other influences that sometimes compliment, sometimes contradict it. But they all amalgamate into something, in the end, resembling my authentic, lived experience. “Can I get a hallelujah [and] amen” to that.
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