In the title track of The Great Divide, Kahan ruminates on his relationship with an estranged friend, expressing regret that he was not aware of his friend’s struggles. Kahan alludes to both mental illness and religious trauma, and leaves the listener with a nagging question: why are we afraid to think about our souls?
*Please note that the lyrics contain some profanity.
Scared for Our Souls
Expressing his regret about his prior relationship with his friend, Kahan admits that he did not realize his friend’s struggles. Kahan sings,
You know I think about you all the time
And my deep misunderstanding of your life
And how bad it must have been for you back then
And how hard it was to keep it all inside
As the song unfolds, Kahan remorsefully describes himself as oblivious to his friend’s pain. Kahan hints that he may have chosen to be ignorant of his friend’s suffering because he was not “brave enough to go there.” In contrast to the regret, the song’s anthemic chorus expresses Kahan’s hope that his friend’s life is going better now. In the first line of the chorus, Kahan belts out,
I hope you settle down, I hope you marry rich
Kahan’s well-wishing, however, quickly goes in a surprising direction. Rather than expressing further platitudes of hoped-for happiness and comfort, Kahan turns to contemplating the types of things his friend fears.
I hope you’re scared of only ordinary sh**
Like murderers and ghosts and cancer on your skin
Wishing a person to be scared of murderers and cancer doesn’t exactly seem benevolent.
However, Kahan clarifies why he is bestowing this unusual blessing. In the next line, he compares these “ordinary” fears with the worst fear he hopes his friend is not afraid of:
And not [afraid for] your soul, and what He might do with it
It seems Kahan is saying living in fear of the most gruesome and terrifying forms of death in “ordinary” life is better than fearing for your soul. For this estranged friend, the terror inside their own head was many times worse than anything that could happen to them externally. As younger generations are more in tune with mental health concerns, this may make intuitive sense to many of them.
Kahan seems to be suggesting that his friend’s struggles were related to both mental health and religious trauma. Kahan makes a more explicit reference to religion and church in the song’s outro when he sings,
I hope you threw a brick right into that stained glass
Throwing a brick “into that stained glass” may indicate rebellion against and resentment towards religion. Although Kahan mentions no specifics, listeners might infer that, for this friend, fears about his soul stemmed from (or were exacerbated by) a religious upbringing. For this friend, rather than “a peace that passes understanding” (Philippians 4:7), the church appears to have been a source of great anxiety and fear.
Some Place I Wasn’t Brave Enough to Go
Our first instinct may be to jump to the defense of the church. There are certainly times when it is appropriate and necessary to defend the body of believers. Yet even if, in the end, we want to defend the church, we can do that best by first understanding the criticism. So, it will help us to start by being curious and hearing Kahan out.
Again, Kahan makes a few “I hope” statements for his friend that aren’t exactly your regular well-wishes. In the final lines of the song he sings,
I hope you’re with someone who isn’t scared to ask
I hope that you’re not losing sleep about what’s next
Or about your soul, and what He might do with it
Kahan’s final lines call back to an earlier line in which he said he “wasn’t brave enough to go” with his friend into the fears and struggle in his head. Perhaps this is also a more specific criticism of the church. If so, Kahan’s reason for resentment towards religion isn’t theological, but personal: there was no one there who was “not afraid to ask.” Despite being surrounded by religious people, this struggling friend found not a single person who was willing to pay attention to their pain and be present with them in it.
Enduring pain in isolation should not be what people experience within the church. To the contrary, Paul calls us to bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2). It is a sorrowful thing when someone’s faith community fails to stay with them through their darkest moments. And while we can say this is not what is supposed to happen in the body of Christ, we cannot deny that it does happen. Even Jesus experienced abandonment in his darkest moments, right before his crucifixion (Matthew 26:40). What Kahan is alluding to may not be what we want the church to be, but as long as the people of the church are failing to be with one another in their suffering, his criticism is valid.
Shifting the Narrative About Church
While we don’t have to applaud Kahan’s apparent bitterness towards organized religion, we should have the same desire that when someone is suffering within themselves, someone will be there for them—will embody the presence and love of Jesus Christ in their life.
Kahan isn’t alone in his casual criticism of organized religion. Some research shows that his generation is more likely to report that they left organized religion or were never religious. It might be discouraging to think that the rising generation is becoming more willing to “throw a rock through the stained glass” of the church. Yet “The Great Divide” offers a hopeful insight: If people experienced the church as a place of hope and “peace that passes understanding” rather than pain and fear, they might view religion more favorably.
As Christians, people who are living representations of Christ and his church, we can help switch the narrative. We can be part of the church, willing to go to dark places with people who are hurting. Because Christ is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), it should be a central concern of his people that they also be near to those who are suffering.
Being with a person in their darkness and pain is one of the most powerful opportunities to point them towards Christ and towards love—as C. S. Lewis wrote, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains.”1 In our relationships and through Christ’s power, we can help people not feel that thinking about their souls and “what he may do to it” is the most terrifying thing. Instead, the eternal destination of our souls can become a source of hope rather than fear.