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This is probably the most personal post I’ve ever made on this blog. But there are days when that’s the only kind of post I can write.

“Tears Will Never Stain the Streets of That City,” an old Dottie Rambo classic, has been on my mind and heart a lot over the last few days.

A friend in my town, who attended my church periodically, shared my love of Southern Gospel music. Sometimes he’d bring his guitar and help lead worship while I played piano. He had some mental issues and may have been slightly retarded, but he was one of the sweetest older men (50s) I’ve met.

He was murdered on Monday.

I live in a little town, and murders here are shocking to start with. But to see a friend’s name in those headlines is a feeling I hope I never have again.

And so…

I have questioned the loss of a loved one
For the grave seems so final and cold.
But we’ll meet again in a land where death has no victory
In a land where we’ll never grow old.

And tears will never stain the streets of that city
No wreath of death on my mansion door.
Teardrops aren’t welcome beyond the gates of Glory
And the heart will never break anymore

I recently joined a website for homeschool alumni. I noticed yesterday on one member’s profile page that she liked “Conservative Gospel Music,” naming artists from the Inspirations to Steve Green’s earlier work to (possibly?) Greater Vision.

When I read that, I thought her phrase captured well the answer to Averyfineline’s perennial question about how some Southern Gospel fans (me included!) could vote for the Inspirations in one category and Greater Vision in another. Both groups stay within their tradition, neither pushing the envelope, and the members of both live (to my knowledge, and to the public’s knowledge) lives off stage consistent with how they represent themselves on stage.

Conservative Gospel Music is something almost as undefinable as Southern Gospel Music. You just have to know what you’re looking for, and if you do, you intuitively know when you have found it. You come away from a Mark Trammell Trio concert or a Primitive Quartet concert with a whole different feeling than you do after hearing certain progressive groups, or than you would after hearing a singer who you knew was living a life offstage inconsistent with how they represent themselves on stage.

It’s the sort of thing that I can’t capture in words, but have been pondering anyhow ever since that phrase caught my attention.