"Malibu", Mumford & Sons, and the Theology of Conversion
A Catholic theological reflection and the return of honest struggle
I love, and have always loved, Mumford and Sons.
I think their albums Sigh No More and Babel are two of my favorite albums of all time.
Recently, however, their last few album have been lackluster and have really betrayed their original musical style—in particular the themes of their original albums—which made them truly great.
A few days ago, however, I ran across an article from Word on Fire written by Eric Cyr called “The Restless Hearts of Mumford and Sons” which announced to me that they have just released a new album and, much to my surprise, they were wrestling with the original themes that made their original music so great—namely God, religion, conversion, faith, darkness, and Christ.
Go check out Eric Cyr’s article over at Word on Fire for a great breakdown of the album Rushmere from someone who is actually musically inclined (I do not have a musical bone in my body).
Today, I wanted to theologically reflect upon my favorite song from the new album—Malibu.
In doing so, I want us to reflect together on the great themes that Marcus Mumford is publicly wrestling with—reversion, forgiveness, and surrender.
I will take you through the lyrics1 of this song and reflect upon the greater theological significance of what they refer to—specifically for us as Catholics.
“Malibu”
The first track on Rushmere is “Malibu.” This was the first encounter I had with this new album, even before I read the article by Eric Cyr.
In this song, Marcus Mumford sings about repentance, recognition of sin, honesty with one’s fallen nature, and submission of self-desire to the will of God.
In the first stanza, Marcus sings:
In all my doubt
In all my weakness
Can you lead?
I fall behind
But like you promise
You wait for me
What is this if not a recognition of sin? It is a humble recognition of the doubts and weaknesses that plague man. Even in those places of vulnerability, we cry out, as Marcus does here: Lord, can you lead me even from this place? If the soul were to stay here, that would be despair. It is good to recognize the weaknesses and the sins we commit, but to despair of God’s assistance rather than find consolation in repentance makes us more like Judas and less like Peter.
In another sense, this despair of not trusting in God’s mercy is an apt way of interpreting the sin against the Holy Spirit that Jesus speaks about in Matthew 12: “Therefore I tell you, every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven men, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven.” It is despair that drove Judas to commit suicide. Instead of turning in tears to the Lord he just betrayed, who would have welcomed him with open arms, he instead yielded to the darkness and perished. Peter, on the other hand, betrayed his Lord by denying Him three times. However, in Peter’s tears, he turned back to the Lord and was confirmed in his love of Jesus and entrusted to feed the lambs, tend the sheep, and feed the sheep. God is able to heal all brokenness and self-imposed distance, but He is unable to heal that which we are unable to let go of.
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Recognition of sin and Pelagianism
Next, we have the answer to this recognition of sin, with the acknowledgment of an internal stirring of spirit.
I feel a spirit move in me again
I know it's the same spirit that still moves in you
I don't know how it took so long to shed this skin
Live under the shadow of your wings
This passage is reminiscent of the Return of the Prodigal Son. Once the son has rejected his father and spent himself in sin and debauchery, he finally comes to his senses and realizes his sin. He, as Marcus does, “feel[s] a spirit move” again.
This spirit-movement within the soul is a profound meditation on God’s posture towards man. There was an ancient heresy called Pelagianism which stated that man, by his own works, can achieve perfection. The constant belief of the Church has been that man does not make the first action. It is God who is first actor and mover. Whatever good we do, or action we perform, is because God first moved us and first called us. St. Augustine, the primary defender of orthodoxy against Pelagianism, stated that “They, however, must be resisted with the utmost ardor and vigor who suppose that without God's help, the mere power of the human will in itself, can either perfect righteousness, or advance steadily towards it;”2
This passage from Malibu recognizes this reality. It was the spirit who moved in him, the same Spirit who is God Himself. The Spirit moved him first and, because of that, allowed him to “shed this skin” so as to “live under the shadow of [His] wings.” He, like all of us, is trying to shed the skin of our desire to sin and be distant from God. This recurring theme of living under the shadow of God’s wings is obviously a quote of Psalm 91, which is a cry of faithfulness of the assurance of God’s protection. The psalmist writes that “under his wings you will find refuge.” What a beautiful recurring theme!
Can God actually forgive me?
I'm still afraid
I said too much
Or not enough
You'd only see
The ghost still rising
A broken touch
Even after feeling the spirit moving, even after returning to the Father, even after recognizing that true peace is found under the wings of God, we can still find the weight of our past sins bearing down on us. As Marcus Mumford says for us, “I’m still afraid I said too much or not enough.” How many times in the Christian life do we recognize God’s mercy, ask for it, and then become burdened with the question of “How could He actually forgive me for the things I’ve done?” This passage speaks profoundly to the restless hearts of man. This, I believe, is something every Christian has experienced and, most likely, will experience in their faith.
Once one has returned from his sojourn away from God, it can be quite tempting to assume that one will be protected from evil and suffering. This, however, is a mere fantasy and a betrayal of the Gospel. Even after one has returned to the Father, in the words of Marcus Mumford, “I'm still afraid I said too much Or not enough.” In other words, the weight and the recognition of the sheer amount of sin can cause one to despair of God’s love. I am also reminded of another lyric from Someday Soon by Wilder Woods (Bear Rinehart of NEEDTOBREATHE): “Don't think the battles over just cause you say ‘Amen’".
That is the true Christian posture: the battle is not over; Regardless of your confession of Christ, your holiness, or your closeness to the Church, you are not promised tranquility. In actuality, you are promised the opposite: “If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you”(Jn 15:18), and “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me”(Lk 9:23). We are promised persecution and the Cross. The way of perfection and salvation is the wood of the Cross.
Even in the valley, God is leading us
But walking through the valley was what brought me here
I knew I would never make it on my own
And I don't know how it took so long to shed this skin
Live under the shadow of your wings
Lastly, Marcus Mumford recognizes that “walking through the valley” was what allowed God to bring him to the present. In retrospect, in this movement of Providence, Marcus Mumford recognizes that he was inadequate to get here on his own. This is a humble recognition that Divine Providence has led him to where he is today. It was God all along that was writing straight the crooked path Marcus, and all of us, takes. It is a recognition that we should all make—we can do nothing apart from God.
Once again, with St. Augustine, the great saints, and mystics of the Church, we see the antidote to the ancient heresy of Pelagianism: we cannot do it on our own. Only with God’s grace can we strive for perfection and holiness. Only through God’s grace and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit can we “find peace beneath the shadow of [His] wings.”
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All lyrics taken from AZ Lyrics at https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/mumfordsons/malibu.html.
St. Augustine, On the Spirit and the Letter. Tran. by Peter Holmes and Robert Ernest Wallis, and rev. by Benjamin B. Warfield. From “Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, Vol. 5”. Ed. by Philip Schaff. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1887.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/1502.htm. Ch. 4.