Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

“Goodbye yellow brick road, where the dogs of society howl.”

I’m not a regular viewer of The Voice, but I certainly enjoy it when I tune in. Monday was one of those nights. Mara Justine, an incredibly gifted 21-year-old from Galloway, New Jersey, knocked my socks off with her amazing rendition of the classic hit. It didn’t take any longer than “When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land?” for John Legend and Gwen Stefani to turn their chairs, and within seconds all four chairs turned – as Mara’s overjoyed Italian parents celebrated in the background. (You Voice aficionados might like to know that John Legend became Mara’s coach.)

Music from our past tends to move us, as we remember words and phrases and unique sounds that we haven’t experienced in awhile. It’s quite powerful. And Monday night got me thinking … “I should have stayed on the farm; I should have listened to my old man” … What have been the “yellow brick roads” in my life? What paths have I tried that didn’t work out as I expected? What have I learned along the way? After all, this life very rarely allows for do-overs, so we better mine the chapters of our personal history for any gems of wisdom that we can find.

“You can’t plant me in your penthouse; I’m going back to my plough.” When Bernie Taupin penned those lyrics in 1973 – I remember the song like it was yesterday – I have no idea what regrets he was expressing. But it’s clear enough that whatever “Oz” we chase after leaves behind a distinctive emptiness. Such is the nature of so many of our pursuits. Fantastical but short-lived. Exquisitely alluring, but unable to deliver on their promises.

Idolatry is a perennial problem, you see. Many centuries ago, King Solomon – a man who, in the eyes of the world, had it all – reached a startling conclusion: “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2). Even all was not enough. This points us to a fatal flaw in our human condition. By nature – that is, by our unredeemed nature – you and I are perpetually spinning our wheels. We become experts at getting nowhere – and nowhere fast. And even when we get to the “somewhere” we thought we’d been looking for, it rarely satisfies. At least not for long.

But Jesus! He plants meaning where all was desert. He brings color to the dull and gray. He gives life where all hope had been lost. The way isn’t yellow, friends, but it is certain (John 14:6).

There’s only one cure for the likes of us. I think Saint Augustine (A.D. 354 – 430) really nailed it in his prayer: “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in You.” As I remember Augustine’s words, I remember the earliest chapter of human history. The curse of Cain, for murdering his brother, was that he became a “restless wanderer,” and I suspect that all of us struggle with that spiritual restlessness more than we’d prefer to admit. You and I must lean on Christ for contentment, which often does not come to us without a serious battle somewhere in the core of our being.

I need a Savior who knows me better than I know myself. I need a Savior who understands my weaknesses, but who is without a single imperfection of His own. I need a Savior who will love me, at great cost to Himself, all the way to the finish line. I need the wonder – and wonder of wonders it is – of a blood-stained cross and an empty tomb!

“I’ve finally decided my future lies beyond the yellow brick road.”

Pastor Charles