By JJT (written for ThinkChristian.net)

Tom Petty was the voice of hope deferred, and longing fulfilled.

What a gut punch this is. Tom Petty is gone? One of the greatest songwriters in the history of rock and roll will never compose again? One of the most generous and magnanimous performers will never again take the stage? A week after the final show of his final tour, one of the best voices in rock and roll is silent, succumbing to cardiac arrest at the age of 66.

Petty had announced that he was done touring, but I fully expected a long and beautiful season of studio recordings, collaborations, experiments, and more. Ever since he and his band, the Heartbreakers, backed up Johnny Cash on his 1996 album Unchained, I have been looking forward to Petty’s long, soulful sunset. As with Cash, I have needed his songs more times than I can count. Simply put, this sucks.

Tom Petty, seemingly from his very early days, understood something important about the spiritual potential of rock music and the servant role of the musician. His second single, “American Girl,” set the tone. We were all that girl, wandering the world, looking for love. “God it’s so painful when something so close is still so far out of reach,” he sang, and we felt it. I was a little kid when that song, “Listen To Her Heart,” and “Here Comes My Girl” all came out. To me these songs were every bit as formative and foundational as anything by the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, or Elvis. Probably more so. I came to appreciate those artists later. I got Petty right away.

I listened to his 1979 album Damn the Torpedoes on my friend Greg Kirkman’s record player shortly before my young life got turned upside down and inside out at the tender age of 10. That album enveloped me. In addition to “Refugee,” there was “Even The Losers” and “What Are You Doing In My Life?” Even as a kid I knew that “Don’t Do Me Like That” was about reaping what you sowed. Torpedoes has long served as a watermark for me; a near perfect rock record. And Tom and the band were just getting started.

Petty’s songs—even the acerbic and sarcastic ones—often offered encouragement and inspiration. He sneered humorously at the wolves at the door, while singing about a secret hatch in the roof through which we all might escape. He painted himself as one of us. He was right there with us, wondering about love and lies and the meaning of it all. He also understood the musical DNA of American music so thoroughly that he could match every song to its perfect melodic soul mate. Whether it be a boot-scootin’ rockabilly shuffle, a blues riff to wake the dead, or crystalline chord progressions that sent us all “Free Falling” into emotional exultation, his craftsmanship connected with millions in a deep, even spiritual way.

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