Lost
in Translation: Music That Doesn't Soothe the Savage Beast
A story of a
needless death … and the choices we make in this life that impact the next.
"And I'm saying, "It's about him. He's was telling me...he was walking beside me and I was listening to these words [lyrics to "45"], and I knew it was describing him. He was falling apart right before our eyes."- Joyce Lucey
Crying the
blues—or even a rock song that evokes the blues—can be cathartic for some,
catastrophic for others. For 23-year-old returning Iraq war soldier Jeffrey
Lucey, it was clearly the latter, making one wonder if he had ever been
warned—post-release—that it would be best to stay away from strong emotional
triggers like war films, graphic news stories, violent video games and even
super sad suicide-inducing songs like Shinedown's "45."
In these times of doing what you're told
You keep these feelings, no one knows
What ever happened to the young man's heart
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart
And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a 45
– “45” by Shinedown
When I read the lyrics to this song, I assumed it was about what many people think it's about: suicide. Yet when Brent Smith, the lead singer of Shinedown, wrote those words, he claims he was not thinking about suicide. Rather, he contends that it’s actually a song about hope, about fighting against the odds. But there's that title, "45," and those lyrics, "No real reason to accept the way things have changed." Then the seeming "solution": "staring down the barrel of a 45." Where, I have to ask, is the message of "hope" here?
Smith's response is that "45" wasn't meant to be a literal term for a gun, but rather a metaphor for the world and the life we’re handed—the good, the bad and the ugly.
"It's a gift to be alive," says Smith. "And even when you're in that dark place [like I was] … it's about understanding that while it's not always going to be good, still you have no one to blame but yourself if you don't move forward."
Unfortunately for Jeff Lucey, Shinedown's message of life being "a gift" must have been lost in translation. If he did consider life to be a gift, it was one he made the fateful decision to return to its Giver. Just a short time after making a point of playing the song "45" for his mother during an afternoon walk, Jeff hung himself in his parents' cellar with a garden hose.
I'm not sure whether Lucey was ever officially diagnosed during his 3-day stint at a VA hospital, but it seems he had all the classic signs of PTSD.
Whatever the official diagnosis, clearly Jeff Lucey couldn't—or wouldn't—make the adjustment to a once-familiar world that had become more foreign than the "ashes of the other life" he had left in Iraq. In that emotional state, anything could have been a trigger. However, in my opinion, there should have been some foresight—and ultimately culpability—on the part of the songwriter that maybe, just maybe, someone on the verge of suicide wouldn’t see these lyrics as a metaphor. (I certainly didn't.) Rather, that a deeply despondent person listening to this song might actually do as the writer seems to suggest: "not accept the way things have changed" by "staring down the barrel of a 45" and pulling the trigger. Or place his head in a noose, as Lucey chose to do, and kick away the chair beneath him. Read or watch Jeff Lucey's story…
Opting Out: A Shortsighted View
Right now, it's hard not to think about Jeff's grieving mother, Joyce Lucey, and how "45" will forever re-play in her head—a siren song that she believes lured her son to an even darker place than the one he already inhabited. Only this place—entered into by one fateful choice—was a far country, an afterlife of finality from which there is no return. I can only hope that somehow, someway, God intervened before this young man passed into eternity. There's nothing more frightening that leaving this life in a state of hopelessness, believing (falsely) that death will be the panacea for despair. Because it's not. The Bible tells us that there is both a heaven and a hell, and there are no shortcuts to heaven by way of suicide. If there were, then any of us experiencing a degree of pain or suffering that we subjectively consider "too much to bear" would choose to opt out of our life. In doing so, we would each be free from the misery of being human—a state where whatever joys we experience in life somehow fade in comparison to our present darkness. Peace would be ours at last.
Sadly, this is a lie perpetuated by the Father of Lies (satan), who would love nothing more than to lure us into a false belief that by ending our life here, we'll find a better one on the other side. Often this is not a conscious belief (because the sufferer may not even believe in an afterlife); however, even the unconscious thought or feeling that “ending it all” will finally end the pain is nonetheless believing that there’s a better alternative to life itself.
In these times of doing what you're told
You keep these feelings, no one knows
What ever happened to the young man's heart
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart
And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a 45
– “45” by Shinedown
When I read the lyrics to this song, I assumed it was about what many people think it's about: suicide. Yet when Brent Smith, the lead singer of Shinedown, wrote those words, he claims he was not thinking about suicide. Rather, he contends that it’s actually a song about hope, about fighting against the odds. But there's that title, "45," and those lyrics, "No real reason to accept the way things have changed." Then the seeming "solution": "staring down the barrel of a 45." Where, I have to ask, is the message of "hope" here?
Smith's response is that "45" wasn't meant to be a literal term for a gun, but rather a metaphor for the world and the life we’re handed—the good, the bad and the ugly.
"It's a gift to be alive," says Smith. "And even when you're in that dark place [like I was] … it's about understanding that while it's not always going to be good, still you have no one to blame but yourself if you don't move forward."
Unfortunately for Jeff Lucey, Shinedown's message of life being "a gift" must have been lost in translation. If he did consider life to be a gift, it was one he made the fateful decision to return to its Giver. Just a short time after making a point of playing the song "45" for his mother during an afternoon walk, Jeff hung himself in his parents' cellar with a garden hose.
I'm not sure whether Lucey was ever officially diagnosed during his 3-day stint at a VA hospital, but it seems he had all the classic signs of PTSD.
Whatever the official diagnosis, clearly Jeff Lucey couldn't—or wouldn't—make the adjustment to a once-familiar world that had become more foreign than the "ashes of the other life" he had left in Iraq. In that emotional state, anything could have been a trigger. However, in my opinion, there should have been some foresight—and ultimately culpability—on the part of the songwriter that maybe, just maybe, someone on the verge of suicide wouldn’t see these lyrics as a metaphor. (I certainly didn't.) Rather, that a deeply despondent person listening to this song might actually do as the writer seems to suggest: "not accept the way things have changed" by "staring down the barrel of a 45" and pulling the trigger. Or place his head in a noose, as Lucey chose to do, and kick away the chair beneath him. Read or watch Jeff Lucey's story…
Opting Out: A Shortsighted View
Right now, it's hard not to think about Jeff's grieving mother, Joyce Lucey, and how "45" will forever re-play in her head—a siren song that she believes lured her son to an even darker place than the one he already inhabited. Only this place—entered into by one fateful choice—was a far country, an afterlife of finality from which there is no return. I can only hope that somehow, someway, God intervened before this young man passed into eternity. There's nothing more frightening that leaving this life in a state of hopelessness, believing (falsely) that death will be the panacea for despair. Because it's not. The Bible tells us that there is both a heaven and a hell, and there are no shortcuts to heaven by way of suicide. If there were, then any of us experiencing a degree of pain or suffering that we subjectively consider "too much to bear" would choose to opt out of our life. In doing so, we would each be free from the misery of being human—a state where whatever joys we experience in life somehow fade in comparison to our present darkness. Peace would be ours at last.
Sadly, this is a lie perpetuated by the Father of Lies (satan), who would love nothing more than to lure us into a false belief that by ending our life here, we'll find a better one on the other side. Often this is not a conscious belief (because the sufferer may not even believe in an afterlife); however, even the unconscious thought or feeling that “ending it all” will finally end the pain is nonetheless believing that there’s a better alternative to life itself.
The enemy is highly skilled at such deception (he's had
centuries of practice), which is why satan's minions will walk through any door
we open to ensure that we take a shortsighted view, convincing ourselves that
our best days are behind us. Before long, we wear hopelessness and despair like
a heavy cloak that we cannot discard. (Feelings
of despair are always preceded by thoughts
of hopelessness, which is why the apostle Paul admonished to us “cast down vain
imaginations and every [emphasis
mine] thought that exalts itself against the knowledge of God” (2 Cor. 10:5). Why
does the devil do this? Simply put, because "misery loves company."
Which is why ignorant people making the commonly heard platitude, "He's
finally found the peace he couldn't find in this life" (or words to that
effect) after someone kills himself, really need to—excuse my crudeness—shut
their "pie hole." All they're doing is fueling the falsehood—a very dangerous falsehood—that only serves to fuel
hell's agenda.
“Only a Breath Away”
The simple truth is that there is no peace on the
"other side" if you don't choose life on this side. Every decision
you make in this life reverberates into the next one. And lest you be under the
mistaken impression that “heaven is ‘up there’ somewhere,” it’s important to
note that the so-called “veil” separating the two worlds is not as thick as you
may think. As a physician who considers it his calling to help usher his dying
patients into the next life—often experiencing the very sounds and smells of
heaven himself (and sometimes, frighteningly, that “other place”)—once shared
with me, “eternity walks beside us … it’s only a breath away.” That thought should
give us pause. Dr. Reggie Anderson’s fascinating book, Appointments with Heaven (it reads like a combination
of To Kill a Mockingbird, In Cold Blood and Heaven is for Real), offers life-changing insights into what really
awaits us beyond the grave. … depending upon that one critical choice we make on this side.
That “choice” isn’t just the decision to keep sucking air, holding onto this earth
by a shoestring of slim-to-none hope. By choosing "life" I mean choosing
the Life-Giver Himself, Jesus, who said, "I am the way and the truth and
the life. No one comes to the Father [where Heaven exists] except through
me." Hear that? No one. That’s what Jesus Himself said. So if you don’t
choose Jesus, you’re choosing eternal separation from Him. And, trust me,
that’s no place you want to be because that truly will be the cessation of all that is good in this world. “I am
the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness,
but will have the light of life. ... When I am in the world, I am
the Light of the World” ( John 8:2).
Really, the whole of our existence, and the war that rages
against each of us from the cradle to the grave, can be summed up in this
verse: "The thief [satan] comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I
[Jesus] have come that they may have life, and have it to the full" (John
10:10). Jesus has given us the victory in this war for our souls, but we still
have to daily choose to walk in this
victory. That’s where the battle lies. “Fight the good fight of the faith. Take
hold of the eternal life [emphasis mine] to which you were called when
you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses” (I Tim. 6:12).
(For more on how to fight that good fight, read my blog post titled, “The
Battlefield of the Mind.”)
So today, if like Jeff Lucey, you're teetering on the edge,
debating whether to take the plunge into the Great Unknown because you've
believed the lie that there's no hope and the world would be better off without
you—and that you would be better off without it—I beg you to stop and ask
"the God of all hope" to come and reveal Himself to you.
If you're desperate enough to end your own life, then you're desperate enough to cry out to the Living God, the Father of Light in whom "there is no darkness or shifting shadow."
If you're desperate enough to end your own life, then you're desperate enough to cry out to the Living God, the Father of Light in whom "there is no darkness or shifting shadow."
Don’t Waste Your Pain
When Jesus Christ hung on the Cross, He took upon His own flesh the deep pain you're experiencing right now—the sin, the shame, the fear, the hopelessness—bearing it all so that you no longer have to. Even before the foundation of the world, knowing that He would one day suffer the punishment for our sins—yours and mine—He had you in mind—calling you a "perfect gift" … one who was "fearfully and wonderfully made" as He knitted you together in your mother’s womb.
"My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them" (Psalm 139: 15-17).
Do you hear that? Your days were already written out in God's book before you even took your first breath. This means that you have many more days left to fulfill—days filled with peace, hope and a divine purpose as you experience the joy of being intimately acquainted with your Creator. You can choose to waste the pain you feel by taking it to its ultimate and irreversible consequence, or you can choose to give it to God … asking Him to one day use it to help others. Trust me, He will.
The Right Side of
Eternity
“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the
LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope
and a future" (Jer. 29:11). After those words were spoken over Israel
through the prophet Jeremiah, it would be 70 years before that “bright future”
would actually transpire. Until then, the Israelites suffered a hellish
existence as slaves of the Babylonians. (For some, better than others.) But the
promise of a future redemption helped them to “hold on” … giving them that
critical big-picture view that while they would “suffer for a season,” freedom
was around the bend.
That freedom did come for the Israelites. And, as we read
numerous times in the Good Book, it will come again … once and for all upon the
triumphant return of Jesus Christ. On that glorious day, our returning Messiah
will sit upon the throne in Jerusalem, ruling and reigning as the world watches
“all nations come to His light.” But this just isn’t a “some day” promise for a
sin-weary world … it can be for us now
as individuals. In the midst of your
own personal hell, Jesus gives you the “blessed assurance”—divinely authored by
the Creator Himself in your personal “Book of You”—that yes, you can live a
life of deep peace and abiding joy. It’s a simple exchange. He laid down His
life for us, and, in return, we give our hearts completely to Him … the One who knows and loves us more than we can
possibly imagine. “In this world, you shall
[emphasis mine] have tribulation. But be of good cheer, for I have overcome the
world.”
In conclusion, I solemnly urge you to consider the tragic end of Jeff Lucey and learn from it. Don’t close your book before it's supposed to end. Let the world read it; let them see what a life given over to God and surrendered to His unfathomable love—even in the midst of the trouble that comes to us all—looks like. Choose life. Choose Jesus. Instead of gambling with your eternal fate, choose to be on the right side of eternity where one day, "He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death, or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever" (Rev. 21:4).
Did you know that words are containers for power? You can help keep depression at bay, and allow hope to fill your heart—displacing all those dark thoughts that come to us all. Find out how! Read more...
Posted by: jenni keast
