All of a sudden I began thinking of a song I hadn’t heard -- or thought of -- in ages. I couldn’t come up with any part of the lyric or singer, so I sent a text to Mica.
“Remember that song we swooned over until we found out it was about Jesus? What was it?”
There’s nothing wrong with music that praises Jesus, and this song is particularly beautiful. It’s just that I fell in love with it as a song being sung by a man to a woman.
“Mercy Me?” Mica texted back. “I Can Only Imagine?”
Yes! I found it on Spotify, turned the volume up on the earphones and prepared to melt as I had every time I had heard it.
I sent another text to Mica. “Were there two versions, because “Jesus” is in there right at the beginning and I’m pretty sure I would have put two and two together if that was the version on the radio.”
She responded. “Pretty sure there was only one version.”
I Googled. Sure enough, my memory was wrong. I had blocked out Jesus. That can’t be good.
I sent a final text. “Looks like my road to hell is paved with music. Not only do I want to like this song in a completely non-Christian way, I think Il Divo’s version of O Holy Night is sexy.”
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