Last week, I was flipping through the channel’s when I happened upon a show featuring country music star, Alan Jackson, performing a series of old gospel hymns. Jackson sang several of my favorite hymns in the hour-long special. More than one of the songs, deeply touched my soul and I found myself occasionally brushing a tear from my eye.

Growing up the son and grandson of Methodist ministers, gospel hymns have always held a special place in my heart. Almost every Sunday morning when I was a young boy, I would beg Dad to let the congregation sing “Standing on the Promises,” which was my favorite hymn. Dad would always smile, and reply, “Son, we can’t sing “Standing on the Promises” every Sunday.

I also harbor many found memories from my childhood of singing along with my extended family at Sunday evening musical services. Until this day, I can draw a vivid mental image of Dad and his sister, Johnnie Mae, standing in front of the congregation and harmonizing on the gospel classic, “I’ll Fly Away.” My Grandma Tink loved the old hymns too. One of her favorites was “In the Garden.” In fact, she was so fond of that hymn that it was played at her funeral. There wasn’t a better way to usher Grandma Tink to Heaven’s door than one of her favorite songs playing softly in the background.

Even though he never mastered a musical instrument, my Granddad was what I would consider a musical man. There’s no way to count how many old hymns he could sing from beginning to end without even glancing at a hymnal. In his career as a minister, he sang those old hymns to congregations from Eastern, North Carolina to the Piedmont.

A couple of days before Granddad died, the family gathered around his bed and sang a multitude of old hymns. Although Granddad’s body had been weakened by his illness, his voice was still strong and powerful. He sang louder than anybody else in the room as we joyfully made our way through such beautiful hymns as “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” and “How Great Thou Art.” Thankfully, the hymns made his passing a little easier on all of us.

There was a short span in my teenage years when I abandoned the old hymns for rock-n- roll music. Our neighbor’s didn’t like to see me coming because I would drive up and down the street with rock-n-roll blaring out the car speakers. “Preacher’s son gone wild,” as the old saying goes. These days Dad often jokes that I’ve come along way in my musical taste since the day’s of AC/DC and their album “Highway to Hell.”

Shortly after I watched Alan Jackson’s musical special on TV last week, I went out and picked up a copy of the CD. I guess in some ways I’m still the same as I was in my teenage years. As I’ve driven around in the last week, I’ve turned the CD up loud. The volume of my music has stayed the same, but the music’s message has changed drastically. Thank goodness I’m not on the “Highway to Hell” anymore.