Monday, February 16, 2015

No More B*tches

Within the last 12 months, I've written many blog posts about my relationship struggles with rap music. In "Green Eyes," I talked about feeling convicted at a Goodie Mob concert held in an old church while chanting, "put some fire on the a** in of that weed." How Many B*tches dealt with my hatred of the "B" word but overlooking its usage in my favorite artists' songs.  Then A Trip Down Miracle Lane detailed the lengths God went through to keep me from going to the much anticipated Outkast ATLast concert.
All summer long, I felt the Holy Spirit leading me to stop listening to rap music. I was like, "Okay, I'll pray about that." It was nothing to pray about! I had already received my directive but I continued to listen to my old school hip hop playlist on my iPod and Pandora anyway. See, I don't listen to this trash on the radio today. I marveled at how lyricists wove words together like Ms. Lauryn Hill on Mystery of Iniquity- "Teaching ambition to support the family superstition." Ahh, its magical.

I've gone through stages in my life where I would throw away, give away, or sale all of my secular music only to buy it again a year or so later. I knew I needed to give it up. I'm not saying rap music is bad. I'm saying that God doesn't want ME listening to it. I mean, I can quote a song lyric to fit any situation. I need to be more in love with His word rather than the words of Andre 3000, Mos Def, and Cee Lo Green before he pursued his pop dreams.

So the day of the Outkast concert, I was discharged from the hospital at exactly 5:00p.m., the time the gates opened at Centennial Park. Never mind, the paramedics cut up my good jeans and I had to walk out of the hospital in a hospital gown and tennis shoes. I could've still made it to that concert but my sister-in-law insisted on taking me back to Birmingham that night.

My cell phone with all my music on it fell out somewhere on HWY 285 and someone blessed themselves with my iPod because I know I saw it in my car after the accident.

We make things so difficult when it can be so simple. No More B*tches for me.

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