Where the Light Is

In case you don't know, in my imagination, I am close friends with John Mayer. I imagine, from his lyrics, his interviews, his music, that I know him. I know he's said some crappy things over the years, but I know, from knowing him as a friend in my imagination, that he is not a crappy person. And his newest album is a tribute to that.


"I'm a good man, with a good heart, had a tough time, got a rough start, but I finally learned to let it go." 
So goes the chorus from the first single from Born and Raised, "Shadow Days." I believe every word is pure honesty, and that's why he and I are friends.


But, anyway, I'm not writing this to confess my obsession with John Mayer, which does indeed border on being delusional and not just indulgent in imagination.


I'm writing this to celebrate redemption and goodness at heart.


I am reminded, as I listen to Born and Raised, of seeing John Mayer in Nashville in one of his darkest periods of running his mouth a bit too much. If you want to see what I saw in person (further deepening my infatuation with my broken, humble, and honest friend John Mayer), someone else at the concert that night posted it to YouTube.


John Mayer Apology in Nashville 2010

In this video, John refers to being a "possible future grown up," and the John Mayer of Born and Raised is "twice as old in half the time" as the John Mayer of Battle Studies. I have always loved him and only been sad for him for his embarrassing comments. (See "My Stupid Mouth" from all the way back on his first EP in 1999 and first album in 2001 to know why he makes them sometimes-- "I just wanna be liked. I just wanna be funny. So call me Captain Backfire." Don't we all know that feeling? Anyway...) Now that John Mayer is growing up, I love him even more because I believe in my heart he, like all of us, is just a good man who has a tough time sometimes, and that reminds me how important it is to love and remember that we all mess up. We are broken shadows of what we're supposed to be. Yet, somehow, we all have a little sliver of the miracle of what God intended in humanity in us at the same time, and music like John's helps me connect with that miracle and believe in it.


I don't think that John Mayer knows Jesus; he's never mentioned it that I know of, and it doesn't seem likely. But I believe he wants to, even if he doesn't think so because he's never met the real Jesus. Why do I believe that?


Because of our imaginary friendship through his music. I could point to a lot of JM lyrics that show humanity's need for God, but one of the most poignant examples is the song "Gravity," which he was playing when he stopped to make his "apology" at the Nashville concert I attended. 


Gravity

Keep me where the light is. Oh, keep me where the light is. Keep me where the light is. Keep me where the light is.

John Mayer, after who knows how many time he's sung those lines, still broke down singing them in Nashville that night. And all of humanity is with him. We all want gravity-- all the things that bring us down, all the bad, all the brokenness, all the parts of us that are fallen-- to stay the hell away from us and for the light to shine on us.


Oh, Lord, keep me where the Light is. Just keep me where the Light is. Just keep me where the Light is.


I hope one day John Mayer gets to see that Light too. I can't even imagine (yes, this selfishly crosses my mind) what amazing music God would create in him if that happened.


The last thing John Mayer said during "Gravity" on that night in Nashville is a quotation I've keep in my notepad since that night: "My name is John Mayer, and I'm gonna figure that out."


Isn't that what we're all doing here on this earth? Just trying to figure out who we are, where the Light is, and how we can stay in it. And I, for one, am grateful for music like John Mayer's where the sacred occasionally overlaps with the secular and little glimmers of light shine through, dispelling the shadow days and transcending gravity.