One night in the spring of 1971, soul-singer Bill Withers was in the music studio recording a new song, Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone. It would go on to be one of the greatest hits this singer would ever have and a favorite of mine from then until now.
Don Davidson
The most memorable part of the song, of course, comes in the middle — the long repetition of just one phrase. Over and over again he sang “I know, I know.” Twenty-five times, in fact, before moving on. And without taking a breath. I still try to match it when I hear the song on the radio, and sometimes I manage to get it out. It’s a challenge, but the song brings back lots of memories from my youth as I sing along.
It wasn’t until a few months ago, at Withers’ death, that I learned the story about that part of the song. It wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t part of the plan. But Withers hadn’t quite finished writing the lyrics when the time came to record. So, while the tape was rolling, the singer improvised just to fill the space for this first run-through.
The producers loved it so much they pressed him to keep this as the final take. He agreed.
That’s what you do sometimes when you come to a moment and do not know the words that should come next. You repeat what you know, and you improvise.
We are at one of those moments right now. Charts and death counts and press conferences fill our waking hours — and so many questions remain. Conflicting advice from scientists and political leaders is contributing to the fear that is blanketing the country. We stay isolated and alone, wondering what will happen next. Tomorrow’s headlines.
“There are gaps in my understanding, and yet the tape is rolling. In the absence of lyrics that satisfy and answer questions, I have to riff until they come.”
Words are the stock-in-trade for preachers like me, and you might expect that I would always know what to say in any given situation. But this one is much more difficult than most. There are gaps in my understanding, and yet the tape is rolling. In the absence of lyrics that satisfy and answer questions, I have to riff until they come.
Taking my cue from Bill Withers, I’ll just say that “I know—”
“I know that my Redeemer lives … and I shall see him with my eyes,” Job 19:25-27.
There are many things that I am not sure of, but I do not question the literal, bodily resurrection of Jesus. It is at the heart of our faith, the central affirmation of Christianity.
And: “I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day.”—2 Timothy 1:12.
My ultimate salvation and my well-being now are assured because God is good and has promised to hold on to me, even when I grow weary in holding on to God (John 10:28-29). These days in which we are living are indeed quite serious — but God’s promise never to leave or forsake us has not been revoked, nor will it be.
That simple statement in the classic soul song, Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone, is the most memorable part of the song. And it’s only there, I know now, because words had temporarily failed the singer, Bill Withers. In the future, when COVID-19 is behind us, we will look back upon this long season and the simple, repeated phrase that said all that needed to be said, all that we knew to say, and that got us through the crisis.
“Many times in our lives, we lose our voice, lose our song.”
I remember the funeral of an elderly woman a few years ago. Her grandson, Samuel, gave a eulogy, and her granddaughter, Raine, asked if she could sing a song. I told her how difficult that might prove to be for her, but of course I said yes to her request. She sang His Eye is on the Sparrow. She did a good job with it, too, but as she came to the end of the first verse, she began to cry and could not continue.
I was about to rescue her but, thankfully, I stayed in my seat. The pianist kept on playing softly, and from here and there around the crowded chapel, friends and other family members began to sing the chorus for her. Eventually, everybody joined in: “I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.”
Raine pulled herself together, thanked everyone, and sang the next verse and chorus herself, finishing this song for her grandmother. It was a tender, remarkable moment that I don’t think I will ever forget.
Many times in our lives, we lose our voice, lose our song. We are overwhelmed with a problem or some deep sorrow, and the words just will not come. We open our mouths and … nothing. It is in times like these that we need others in the church to pick up the song for us. To give voice to it when we have forgotten the words or do not have the strength or composure to go on. To carry the tune, and one another, as we are taught in Galatians 6:2.
So, sing along, if you know the words.
Don Davidson is pastor of First Baptist Church of Alexandria, Va. He previously served as president of the Baptist General Association of Virginia, was a trustee for New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary and served on the boards of Hopetree Family Services of Virginia and Guidestone Financial Resources.