John Michael Talbot’s music sometimes communicates better than the prose of theologians.
For a number of years I found myself giving my friends and acquaintances one book or another on the topic of the kingdom of God. I had come to the conclusion that the kingdom is the controlling vision of the New Testament but that we twentieth-century Christians had only a faint glimpse of that vision. I no longer give away books. Instead, I pass on the records of John Michael Talbot. His music conveys the vision of the kingdom of God better than some of the best prose of the theologians.
Talbot is a lay brother in the Order of Secular Franciscans. He became a Christian in his teens while he was a member of a rather good country-rock band. His first Christian compositions anticipated themes that he would later develop in more depth. The relationship between Talbot’s early music and his later is like the relationship between the Books of the Prophets and those of the Evangelists, or like the relationship between John the Baptist and Jesus. In his Beginnings album we hear indictments of the church, “Would You Crucify Him?”; a call to repentance, “Prepare Ye the Way”; and a promise of the coming salvation, “New Earth.”
On his way toward opening the kingdom of God to a fuller view, Talbot put together an arrangement of the traditional liturgy of the church and offered it in the form of an album entitled The Lord’s Supper. In his arrangement, the reality of the kingdom of God is so palpable that it remains indelibly imprinted on the listener’s mind. His rendition of the Apostles’ Creed is one of the strongest affirmations of faith set to music—some would say it rivals even the conviction and power of the “Credo” in Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis.
In the albums that followed, the gospel of Jesus Christ and the kingdom of God emerged as the dominant themes. Talbot was teaching his listeners what he himself had learned, both from his study of Scripture and his chosen teacher, Francis of Assisi.
In my favorite album, The Painter, the theme of the kingdom opens up to show its many facets. It is a gift, a paradox, a mystery. The kingdom of God comes upon us, but unless we have eyes to see it, we may not know of its presence. To our secular eyes it seems full of strange values and paradoxes. Life comes by dying. Weakness is rewarded with strength. Servants come to be kings. Like the kingdom itself, the music is rich, powerful, incisive, and full of hope. The album is enhanced by the vocal talents of John’s brother, Terry, and the instruments of the London Chamber Orchestra.
Many of Talbot’s songs reflect very clearly the eschatological perspective of the New Testament. The kingdom of God has come and the kingdom of God is coming. It is here and now, and it is just ahead. If we humble ourselves and receive the King, we can walk in its power. Yet we still look expectantly for its fullness.
If one immerses himself in Talbot’s music, it is quite difficult for him to lose hope, for his eyes are constantly focused on the presence of the kingdom while they are also straining to see its continual unfolding.
For this Franciscan troubadour, life in the kingdom is not merely the lives of individuals touched by the presence of God. Life in the kingdom is life in the church—a corporate life. The church is the Bride of Christ. Her marriage is celebrated in the album For the Bride. In this marriage celebration we come to see the consistent vision that the Old and New Testaments have for a holy union between God and his people. The imagery of the wedding feast calls us into a new vision for the church—a vision that has us celebrating our union with Christ with song, dance, and inextinguishable enthusiasm:
Then we shall be the bride,
Then we shall be the brothers,
Then we shall be the mothers,
Of our Lord, born without guile.
(From “Troubadour of the Great King”)
1 Mr. Smith is a writer and editor living in Abington, Pennsylvania.
