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Joy Oladokun’s gift

I was introduced to Joy Oladokun’s music a few months ago, and she’s an absolute gift. I got to see her live two weeks ago here in Perth, and as she introduced her song Jordan she gave the context: how she had “grown up religious, and very gay”.

Her music is beautiful. I’d encourage anyone to listen, but if you’re involved in any way in leading in churches and shaping their cultures, then you really should. She’s done us a huge favour by putting words and melodies together to capture the beauty and the pain of what it is to have faith, but also to know rejection at the hands of that faith community. And also the beauty of finding love and grace after all that.

Writing this honestly and putting it out into the world, and grappling with the pain and hope and disappointment out in front of everyone – that takes serious courage.

I can’t say it better than she does, but I’m going to share a video, some lyrics, and some links to songs on Spotify in the hope you’ll listen, and get a better feeling of what it’s like to grow up religious and gay. And maybe that’ll help us be kinder when we find ourselves, or the people we’re serving, on the same road.

Jordan

They told me he’s a good lord,
as they tied the shackles to my feet.
They drowned me in the Jordan,
then they walked away from me.

I don’t feel so young now
I gave the best years of my life
I tried to build an institution
Instead of trying to keep the faith

You kissed the curse from my lips
And taught them to rejoice again
Now we’re building our own promised land

sunday

Mama says I’m up to no good again
I couldn’t make her proud, though I did mybest
I feel like I’m a mess, I feel like I’m stuck in the wrong skin
I feel like I’m sick, but I’m having trouble swallowing my medicine

Sunday, carry me, carry me, down to the water
Wash me clean, I’m still struggling
Sunday, bury me under the weight of who you need me to be
Can’t you see I’m struggling?

Questions, Chaos and Faith

When my friend Casey died
I didn’t drive home for the funeral
I was prostrate, as they say to higher minds

Went to my dorm and cried
because I still believed in Heaven
And I was sure I wouldn’t see her when I die

Nothing is certain, everything changes
We’re spirit and bone marching to the grave
There are no answers, there are only
Questions, chaos, and faith

Dust / Divinity

Oh to be a man of faith
Never asking questions, never changing your ways
I’m a skeptic who still prays
If death leads me to Heaven, they’ll recognise my face

Cause though it hurts me to believe, it kills me not to
And I am trying to find my way through the middle
And I am desperate to receive every good thing
From now until eternity, from dust until divinity

Her last album also has some “observations” which feel half way between a podcast interview and a conversation over a cup of tea.

It has not been easy for me to be so vulnerable
For so long on such a stage
I think there is a part of me that sort of
Sees what I’ve given, and sees the places where it hasn’t always been
Respected, or treated with care…

When I’m looking back on my life
I feel like I’ll be able to confidently say
That so much of it was motivated by love
And actual care for the world around me
And hope that I could make it a different, kinder place
For people who don’t always feel welcome in it
And I sort of saw the world change, you know?