In All Uncertain Terms

One of my favorite musical albums is Listen to the River by band David Wimbish and the Collection. I’ll be honest, I haven’t listened to much of their music outside of this album. When my husband played the first song, though, I was hooked. I spent a good portion of last summer listening to it over and over and over again, and I still revisit it fairly often. One of the joys of consuming media, for me, is finding pieces that reveal something new each time you are exposed to them, or pieces that require a lot of chewing to digest. I think that aside from the music itself, which captures my imagination and lingers in my mind long after the sound waves cease, the thing that appeals to me most is the mystery of the lyrics. There are many lines for which I have not yet discovered a meaning, but the ones I do understand resonate with me deeply. The album explores the themes of despair and hope, doubt and faith, and living in uncertainty. I wanted to revisit the album again, this time articulating why, exactly, I love it so much. For brevity’s sake, since this will already be a very long post, I have omitted repeats of lines, such as when a chorus is sung for the second or later time.

Threshing Floor

“I can no longer carry the ark if it’s causing the death of my friends.”

A reference to 2 Samuel 2:6-7, I interpret this lyric as an expression of feeling unable to bear the intensity and danger and seeming cruelty of God and his requirements. This passage is one I have always struggled with. Even after I’ve been given explanations for why Yahweh killed Uzzah, it still strikes me as overly rigid and unmerciful. I likely would have done the same thing if I were in Uzzah’s shoes. A commentator on Genius Lyrics believes the lyricist is choosing to move away from formal and structured religion, which he sees as killing his friends.

“So I’ll trade that gold ballast for hand-laden altars and baptize myself in the lake. Oh, there was sorrow in every word. Oh, how it longed to be heard. But for the first time, I am not speaking. I am just listening, until I can hear you on my own.”

I see this as a stepping back from such active participation in the church, and a reexamination of belief and experience, to independently evaluate whether one’s faith is his own, or merely the custom of his community.

You Taste Like Wine

“I’ve been searching too hard for my soul, like it matters which words lead us home.”

I think this is an expression of the sentiment that the author has been too focused on being right, or knowing the truth precisely and fully. He is coming to the realization that disagreement or uncertainty may be fine, if we are all heading toward the same place.

“When the end will not reveal its face, I guess I will rest in palms of grace.”

He feels that often he cannot come to a concrete conclusion about the meaning of scripture, or general revelation, and hopes that God’s grace is sufficient to cover his own deficiency or ignorance. The use of “the end” makes me think of all the disagreement within Christianity about what the events of the book of Revelation will look like, how much is literal or metaphorical, what the timeline is, etc.

“Am I lost or found? Or am I just here waiting around until someone comes and tells me it’s okay to move, and I’ll take another step toward–You taste like wine.”

He feels unsure whether he is saved or not (“lost or found”), and sometimes wonders if everything he’s thought is wrong. Perhaps matter is all there is, and he’s neither lost nor found, “just here waiting around.” I’m not sure what the last part of the line might mean.

“You taste like wine. I can’t find those vines.”

This may be a nod to the Eucharist (Matthew 26:26-29, Luke 22:19-20) and to the parable of the vine and the branches (John 15:1-8). I’m not positive of the exact meaning, but my initial reading of these lines is that the author has some tangible, only physical experience of taking communion, but feels as though he’s missing the connection to the “vine” that would allow him to “bear fruit.” Jesus tastes like wine, because that’s literally what communion is, and Wimbish struggles to grasp the transcendent element that should be there.

“Was the path one my feet made clear? Or was it laid out long before I appeared?”

The classic (unsolved) debate of free will versus determinism, or in Christianity, Calvinism versus Arminianism, nags at me relentlessly if I think about it too much. I think it does most people.

“Each new love feels the same as before, yet each old one keeps me longing for more.”

I wonder if this is a reference to C. S. Lewis’s The Four Loves, but I haven’t yet read the book to know what the connection might be. It may also refer to searching for a certain feeling in new people or activities and failing to find it, while missing the feeling derived from old relationships. I haven’t quite figured this one out.

“Is this all that we get? Or is there something that we forget when we are born and hope to find out once again? Open doors beckon us into–You taste like wine”

Again: is the physical world all there is, or is there something more we spend our lives searching for? “Open doors beckon us into” refers to, I think, the invitation of the church. It could also be a nod to Revelation 3:20, in which God says, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” The artist may feel that he was invited into, or he himself invited in, something that seems lacking (since these lines lead into a repetition of the “You taste like wine” chorus).

“So c’mon, show me home, and I will go.”

The singer is genuinely open to experiencing “home” in Heaven or the spiritual realm, in fact hopes to, but hasn’t yet.

Contrary to my interpretation of this song, however, are comments from a Genius Lyrics user, who stated that he spoke to David Wimbish in person, and was told that the lyrics were inspired by Rumi, a 13th century Muslim poet. According to the user (whose username is Samrandy), Rumi’s poems often describe a feeling of euphoria, but being unable to pinpoint its origin. In other words, one might feel happy and relaxed from drinking wine, but frustrated at not finding the plant that produced it. I read some of Rumi’s work, but struggled to understand most of it. It may be because his poems were not written in English, and translations often muddle the concepts, or it may be because they are full of mysticism, which does not come naturally to me. I may also just need to spend a little more time with them. Many of the poems are about love, so there is probably something to discover in his work that would bring some clarity to the “each new love” portion of the song.

While this very well may have been the artist’s inspiration, I have a difficult time fitting that interpretation into the context of the rest of the song outside of the chorus. Another user on Genius Lyrics expressed the same conclusion I had. Perhaps Wimbish was intentionally using words and imagery that could be taken both ways.

Mama

While researching this piece, I learned some context I hadn’t known previously when listening to the album. David Wimbish was going through a divorce in the midst of writing it, and while it was a mutual decision, and he and his wife parted amicably, I’m sure it was still painful. He said that they worked on this album together, as a way to honor their history while moving forward in their new, separate lives. Users on Genius Lyrics seem sure this song is addressed to David’s mother. I think that’s likely, but I also think it is possible “mama” is a nickname for his now ex-wife. I believe he has a child or children, so it wouldn’t be unlikely for him to call her that often, and I know of couples where the husband regularly calls the wife “mama” or something similar. Anyway, I can see the lyrics having more than one interpretation.

“Mama, I know you cannot let go. The weight that I have placed upon your scales is more than you were meant to hold.”

David’s mother is unable to be at peace with his questioning or departure from Christianity and the church. She is bearing the “weight” of believing her son has left the means of his salvation.

Alternatively, his wife is having difficulty moving on from the past–either relationship(s) or hurt. She has the “weight” of trying to deal with it alone.

“But steady is the hand that leads me home. I’ve never known its plan, but I’m still grasping to the other end of its rope. Like you.”

Whether God, fate, destiny, or whatnot, he feels that something has been guiding the course of his life to its end, and has tried to follow it, but has never been able to clearly identify the direction it will lead.

“Lately you just speak in words that broke. Eventually the shards will break apart until they’re starting to make you choke.”

This makes me think of a voice breaking, like what might happen while speaking through tears, or the phrase “broken English,” like perhaps the speech is difficult to understand.

“All of us were once baptized in hope: holy water that you gathered from the Father until it started coming out your throat.”

I’m unsure exactly what this means, but the first part may refer to being young and idealistic, easily believing what one is taught. The second part may be describing preaching or evangelism.

“And you felt it like a bad dream, but I watched it like a movie screen. Different eyes can see the same thing and not realize what it means.”

The person to whom the song is addressed experienced something as overwhelming and bad, while the singer either experienced it in a detached, observational way, or he saw it as just part of the story.

“Oh, Lord, where did I go wrong? A cut cord, a kettle left too long?”

I can relate to the feeling that you messed your life up somewhere along the way, so far back or so small an action that you can’t recall what it was.

“But you won’t answer any prayers when I’m alone. Perfume words from alabaster songs and tales of hurt described in fiery tongues, but you won’t answer any prayers when I’m alone.”

I take this as referencing the events of Matthew 26, Mark 14, and Luke 7, in which a sinful woman breaks an alabaster jar of perfume to anoint Jesus, and Acts 2, in which the apostles receive the Holy Spirit, which appears like “tongues of fire.” To me, the imagery seems to describe sacrifices and vulnerability given by the church, probably through songs of worship, teaching/preaching, and sharing with one another. However, the author feels (as have I) that while he experiences or feels God’s presence in these scenarios, around others, he has difficulty doing so when he is alone.

“Why don’t you come back like when I was young?”

It was easier to believe in and experience God when he was young, so he wonders why it’s so hard now, and longs for the time before.

“Mama, I know you cannot let go. Though we have both been rowing toward the ocean, it seems our motions split some time ago.”

They are both searching for the same thing (possibly God, or the purpose of life), but the way in which they are doing so is different.

“Shaky are the hands with which we row. The way the rapids turn the land to sand feels like a steady plan to take us home.”

I’m not sure what this means, but it could be drawing a metaphor between erosion and dying.

“You felt it like an ending, but I watched it like a new scene. Different ears can hear the same thing and not agree on what it means.”

Like before, the person to whom the song is addressed experienced something as devastating, but the singer saw it as a continuation of the story. If “mama” is his wife, perhaps she felt the marriage was over before he did. If she is his mother, maybe she saw his doubts and reevaluation of his faith as the end of hope for him.

Birds

“I’ve held birds with broken wings between all my changing leaves. Keep my branches strong to hold their perch, but my roots can’t seem to quench my thirst.”

I (and others) think that the birds represent other people in the church. I think that David Wimbish feels that he has served and comforted hurting people through different seasons, perhaps in worship music. He tries to maintain a “put-together” facade, but his questions are left unanswered (thirst unquenched).

“And the birds hate us naked trees. It’s our honesty that makes them leave, while the dark flock hovers wondering what would help me keep my big mouth shut.”

He feels that others are unwilling to stick around through the “winter,” or periods of discouragement, doubt, and lack of growth. They wonder what he needs to shut up about his struggles and uncertainty.

“And I will always tame my mind: what hand grafts us to what vine? While the stars quietly speak of mystery or futility–but which will keep me steady on my feet?”

He can’t help but search for the truth, satisfy his curiosity. He wonders who or what orchestrates our lives, and how they do it. At the same time, he worries about the repercussions on his life of whatever conclusion at which he arrives.

“You have built nests from all of my bark for too long to tell us apart, but my branches always seem to break when I look for you inside their shape.”

This verse is a little more murky to me. I can see two possibilities, but I’m not sure of either one. They could both be wrong.

First, it is addressed to the “birds.” He can see defining features of himself in their lives, but cannot find their impact on his own.

Second, it is addressed to God. God has used him to help others, but when he looks for the image of God in himself, he can’t find it.

“And the earth will never tame its mind: what foot crushed us to what wine? While the ocean loudly speaks of creativity or vanity–but which will keep me steady on my feet?”

Again, he shares in Solomon’s ecclesiastical quandary: does the universe have a purpose? General revelation seems to send mixed messages, so is it right to hope that our work means something, or despair that it all comes to nothing?

“They say, ‘You ask too many questions. You start too many fires. You dream of resurrection, but you’re too scared to die.’”

My mouth has gotten me in trouble many times. Sometimes it has been from intentional, biting words, but many other times, it has been a genuine desire to uncover the truth. I’ve asked questions or challenged opinions, and it was seen as an attempt to be pedantic, play Devil’s Advocate, argue for the sake of arguing, or cause division. I’ve often said or asked something, then immediately wished I hadn’t, from how it was taken. I, too, like the author, hope for a resurrection, but still live in fear of death. I think it’s almost inevitable with doubts.

No Maps of the Past

“When I look out the window, I only see my reflection. No memory crescendos, no past-year possessions. Where did all of our time go? Like a ladder with no bottom, and each rung passing below: I’ve already forgot them.

How did I love you the first time we realized that we both did? All of the canyons in my mind were suddenly crossed on your bridges. How did I used to hold you before you knew that you needed it? If everything always feels new, what if nothing is?”

Perhaps the easiest song on the album for me to understand, “No Maps of the Past” appears to be about Wimbish’s divorce, and the feelings and questions in his mind that resulted from it. He feels that he can’t remember what their relationship was like in the early days, nor the person he was at its inception. I think the “canyons in my mind” may refer to doubts or uncertainties, or possibly unhealthy thoughts or behavior, and his wife may have become a kind of crutch that allowed him to overlook them.

“I’m trying to find my way back to where we started. My tired mind holds no maps of the past. If you are the wine, then I’m the headache you part with, leaving us blind to why we ever poured the glass.”

Either in the context of the marriage or his faith, or both, he is trying to “reset” and go back to how things were at the beginning, but so much has happened that as much as he works at it, he is unable to get there. He feels that his wife is the exiting, enjoyable, possibly numbing half of their pair, and the one who held it all together, but he is the negative aftermath, that causes them to wonder why they even married in the first place.

“When the rain comes tomorrow, and the sun peeks through small cracks, then I’ll see you’re an echo of a sound I can’t get back. Where did all of our time go? What is it that we don’t know we’re missing? There is no hope in photos if I can’t remember the feelings within them.”

From the first part of this verse, I think it is likely that David’s wife remained strong in her faith, while he did not. She reminds him of a stage of life (“sound”) to which he feels he cannot return. They have been together long enough that he wonders what life would be like apart from each other, that neither of them knows.

“Oh, the saints go marching out, with their faces full of doubt if we meant the promises. Well, I can’t remember if we did.”

He and his wife, and possibly their community, wonder if they were serious about the vows they made. He feels he is such a different person now from who he was at the time, that he doesn’t know. At this point in the song, his voice gets softer, quieter, and sets a mournful, desperate tone in the music.

“Darling, why did we ever pour the glass?”

Siddhartha (My Light was a Ghost)

“I keep losing everything I have: my keys, my phone, my friends, my hat. And every brick I laid each year collapsed by some unnamed trumpeteer marching past”

This is possibly my favorite song on the album. While I have not gone through any grief quite as life-altering as a divorce, I can empathize with the feeling of everything you’ve built falling down around you. In the past several years, I have lost a few significant friends, not realizing it was happening at the time, and not understanding why. I assume the “trumpeteer” line is alluding to Joshua 6, and the battle at Jericho. Perhaps the author feels that the destruction of things in his life was directed by God or fate.

“And he asks, ‘What if my light was a ghost?’”

“Siddhartha” is a novel written by German author Herman Hesse. I won’t go into detail about the plot (and I also haven’t read it), but you can easily find it on Wikipedia, if you’re interested. The main and titular character restarts and rebuilds his life in various ways, several times over. He has at least a couple moments of reconsidering whether he was chasing the right thing, and whether his knowledge was true. This lyric is taken directly from the book, and I think it can be taken a couple of ways. He may be wondering if the lens he sees by (God, the church, the Bible) was never real, or he may be wondering if his light (his faith) was never real, or it may be both. While I am a Christian, I can relate to the feeling of worrying that it’s all made up, all in my head and those of my community.

“Every breath comes out held by a gasp, with every timbered year tied loose to my soul’s raft. I’m tugging at my oars with waning grasp”

This line makes me think that he is feeling weary of life. The “river” may be a metaphor for fate, destiny, or God’s sovereign plan. He feels as if he’s fighting it, and wearing out. I think that the “timbered years” are referring to his past, that is now ended, and they have questionable relevance to his current state, and thus are tied loosely.

At this point, a background singer or singers have a line that is a little unclear. I was able to find two suggestions for what it may be:

“Forever pushing us to end or be restarted”

Or

“A little patience to end what we have started”

I don’t have a strong opinion on which it is. The novel does end with Siddhartha becoming enlightened under Buddhism, and since Buddhism views time as cyclical, the first suggestion would make sense. However, the second could also work, if the “river” is suggesting that he keep going on his journey to find truth, or to reach the ocean.

“And when I hear the river, it only laughs, and it asks, ‘What if my light was a ghost?’”

Siddhartha is told by a mentor to “listen to the river.” At one point in the novel, overwhelmed with questions and burdens, he goes to the river, considering suicide. He “hears” the river laugh, and realizes his problems are insignificant in relation to eternity.

“The divine came and cut all my bark away, and I stood naked awaiting the fire, took my last breath from the sun and the wind and clay, and I was one with the whole earth’s desires, and I lived and died at the same time.”

At the end of the novel, Siddhartha, “realizes” that time is an illusion, everything is part of the natural cycle and connected, and that pain and pleasure both have their place. That belief is likely what this line is referring to, although it also makes me think of losing all pretense, being vulnerable before God and others, and learning to sacrifice oneself for others (death and life at the same time).

“What if all failures and hopes are on the same river, afloat? Then I think my light is a ghost.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I plan to finish the rest of the album, but figured 4,000ish words was enough of a start, and enough to put someone through, who is generous enough to spend the time on my ramblings about music I like. If you got here, thank you for spending the time. Though this is a work from someone with a distinctly different religious perspective than my own, I was encouraged by this deep dive into it. I hope you can be, too. If you have any additional or differing thoughts on the lyrics’ meanings, please comment them. I love art analysis, so I would be glad to hear them.