I’ll confess. I didn’t understand it.
I had no interest in watching a Spanish-speaking halftime show. But I didn’t have much more interest in watching TPUSA’s show. I’m not a country music fan. I’ve never heard of Brantley Gilbert, Gabby Barrett, or Lee Brice. (Sorry!) We were hosting a Super Bowl party with small kids and I wasn’t going to be responsible for any potential gyrating, wardrobe malfunctions, or men in dresses. So we made the safe choice and switched over to YouTube.
I was fairly bored listening to music I didn’t know, but hung in there because I knew Kid Rock was coming. And the buildup to his entrance did not disappoint. Nostalgia from my childhood kicked in as I tried to sing along to the lyrics that nobody really knows. “Bow witta bow debang debang dicky dicky…” My daughters were embarrassed of my performance in the living room with my “rock on” fist waving in the air.
About 15 seconds after him yelling, “My name is Kid!” I became pretty disappointed. “What is this?” “Why is he lip-syncing?” “It’s like he’s not even trying to fake it.” “What the heck is this random cello & violin thing?” “Who in the world is Robert Ritchie??”
During the performance, I was texting my son in Dallas who stayed tuned into NBC. His text: “Absolutely awful halftime show.” I said, “We’re watching the TPUSA one. Tell me when the game is back on.” At 7:42pm he texted me, “Game’s back on.” But the guy in the blue trucker hat was still singing on my screen, and some of the people on my couch still seemed interested. So I politely waited until he was done before switching back to the main event.
In the past couple days, I have read all sorts of reviews of both shows. Everybody has their opinions. Everybody has their preferences. It sounded like Turning Point’s show possibly had some underlying messaging that I missed. So I decided to pull it back up on my computer and provide the 20,999,353rd view.
I skipped the first three artists and went straight to the introduction of Kid Rock. Tried to sing along again. Failed again. But, as I watched with intent, it became clear to me that his performance told a story. It was a narrative arc. The lip-syncing (even if it was post-production edited that way) meant something. He couldn’t keep up with his 27-year-old lyrics about midnight glancers, topless dancers, IRS bastards, shots of Jack, caps of meth, crackheads, and hookers.
The awkward instrumental interlude meant something as well. Something of a transformation. When Kid Rock appeared again, he had a new name (Isaiah 62:2), new clothes (Isaiah 61:10), and a new song (Psalm 40:3).
And then he sang about the transformation. And added a new verse to Cody Johnson’s “Til You Can’t.” And in that new verse, he invited everyone else to experience the same transformation that he had. “You can give your life to Jesus and he’ll give you a second chance. Until you can’t.”
Without aggrandizing the messenger himself, let me simply emphasize the message: It doesn’t matter who you are, what you’ve done, or how egregiously broken your past is. Jesus can save you and make you new. Repent & Believe. Until you can’t (Luke 13:24-25).