“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.”

Introduction

A simple, yet profound marker of human life and memory, a wooden cross can symbolize sacrifice, redemption, or remembrance. Such is the evocative imagery that Randy Travis brings to life in his poignant song “Three Wooden Crosses.” It was not just another number in the charts; it became a narrative that touched the hearts of many, reflecting the complexities of human fate and faith.

About The Composition

  • Title: Three Wooden Crosses
  • Composer: Composed by Kim Williams and Doug Johnson
  • Premiere Date: Released in 2002
  • Album/Opus/Collection: Included in the album “Rise and Shine”
  • Genre: Country, specifically a ballad that delves into Christian themes

Background

“Three Wooden Crosses” tells the story of four individuals—a farmer, a teacher, a hooker, and a preacher—who are involved in a fatal bus crash on their way to Mexico. Only the preacher survives, and he leaves a legacy of faith that profoundly impacts the hooker, who later becomes a preacher herself. This song emerged from the creative minds of Kim Williams and Doug Johnson, who sought to craft a narrative that explored themes of redemption and mysterious divine intervention. Upon its release, the song was critically acclaimed and resonated deeply with audiences, becoming a number one hit on the Billboard Country charts and securing its place as a milestone in Travis’ career.

Musical Style

“Three Wooden Crosses” employs a classic country ballad style, characterized by a gentle guitar accompaniment and Travis’ deep, resonant vocals. The melody is simple yet effective, allowing the narrative lyrics to take center stage. The song’s structure supports its storytelling, with each verse revealing more about the characters’ lives and the fateful night of the crash. The chorus, with its repeated references to the crosses, acts as a haunting reminder of the transient nature of life and the lasting impact of faith.

Lyrics/Libretto

The song’s lyrics are central to its impact, weaving a tale that shifts from tragedy to hope. Each character is vividly portrayed through brief, poignant details, and the twist at the end of the narrative offers a powerful message about redemption and the unexpected ways in which lives can intersect and leave lasting legacies. The recurring motif of the “three wooden crosses” symbolizes not just death, but the survival of faith and goodness in a troubled world.

Performance History

Since its release, “Three Wooden Crosses” has become a staple in Randy Travis’ performances and has been covered by various artists, emphasizing its strong emotional and narrative appeal. It also won the prestigious Song of the Year award at the Country Music Association Awards in 2003, affirming its place in the country music repertoire.

Cultural Impact

The song’s profound storytelling and themes have allowed it to transcend its genre, touching listeners beyond the typical country music audience. It has been used in religious gatherings and funerals, and discussed in sermons and spiritual studies, highlighting its role in American cultural and spiritual dialogue.

Legacy

“Three Wooden Crosses” remains a significant work in Randy Travis’ career and in country music. It continues to resonate with new generations of listeners, offering a message of hope and redemption that is timeless. Its narrative depth showcases the power of country music as a storytelling medium, capable of exploring profound human truths.

Conclusion

“Three Wooden Crosses” stands as a profound example of the narrative power of country music. Its simple yet deep portrayal of human life and faith invites listeners to reflect on their own journeys and the intersections of fate and redemption. I encourage everyone to listen to this song, allowing its story to inspire thoughts about the legacies we all may leave behind. Randy Travis’ rendition is particularly moving, and a live performance of the song captures the emotional depth and storytelling prowess that make it a classic.

Video

Lyrics

A farmer and a teacher, a hooker and a preacher
Ridin’ on a midnight bus bound for Mexico
One’s headed for vacation, one for higher education
And two of them were searchin’ for lost souls
That driver never ever saw the stop sign
And eighteen wheelers can’t stop on a dime
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
Why there’s not four of them, Heaven only knows
I guess it’s not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It’s what you leave behind you when you go
That farmer left a harvest, a home and eighty acres
The faith and love for growin’ things in his young son’s heart
And that teacher left her wisdom in the minds of lots of children
Did her best to give ’em all a better start
And that preacher whispered, “Can’t you see the Promised Land?”
As he laid his blood-stained bible in that hooker’s hand
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
Why there’s not four of them, Heaven only knows
I guess it’s not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It’s what you leave behind you when you go
That’s the story that our preacher told last Sunday
As he held that blood-stained bible up
For all of us to see
He said “Bless the farmer, and the teacher, and the preacher
Who gave this Bible to my mama
Who read it to me”
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
Why there’s not four of them, now I guess we know
It’s not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It’s what you leave behind you when you go
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway

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HE OPENED THE ENVELOPE, SAW JOHN DENVER’S NAME, AND SET COUNTRY MUSIC’S BIGGEST AWARD ON FIRE. Charlie Rich had not come to Nashville as a clean country product. He was born in Colt, Arkansas, raised around gospel, blues, jazz, and cotton-field country. His mother played piano in church. A Black sharecropper named C. J. Allen helped teach him blues piano. By the time Rich found his way through Sun Records, RCA, Smash, Hi, and finally Epic, he had already been too jazzy for country, too country for pop, and too strange for the easy lane. Then 1973 changed everything. “Behind Closed Doors” hit. “The Most Beautiful Girl” hit even bigger. Rich became the Silver Fox, won major awards, and in 1974 took CMA Entertainer of the Year. For one year, the man Nashville had never known how to file became the man holding its highest prize. On October 13, 1975, he walked back onstage at the CMA Awards to name the next Entertainer of the Year. He opened the envelope. John Denver. Rich paused, pulled out a lighter, and burned the card before announcing, “My friend, Mr. John Denver.” Some called it protest. Some called it drunken bad judgment. His son later said Rich had pain medication, gin and tonics, a broken foot, and thought it would be funny — not a personal attack on Denver. The explanation came later. The image stayed first. A white-haired country star. A live television stQage. One burning slip of paper. And a career that never fully stepped out of that smoke.

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JEAN SHEPARD CUT “LONESOME 7-7203” BEFORE HER HUSBAND DID. CAPITOL LEFT IT SITTING. THEN HAWKSHAW HAWKINS RECORDED IT — AND DIED THREE DAYS AFTER ITS RELEASE. The song did not start as Hawkshaw Hawkins’ last hit. It passed through Jean Shepard first. By the early 1960s, Jean was already one of country music’s toughest women. She had come up through honky-tonk, made “A Dear John Letter” a No. 1 duet, joined the Grand Ole Opry, and proved she was not just a pretty harmony voice in a man’s business. Hawkshaw Hawkins was already part of that same Opry world. Tall, smooth, steady, with a career that had stretched from West Virginia radio to national country stages. He and Jean married in 1960. Two singers. Two roads. One house outside Nashville. Then came a Justin Tubb song called “Lonesome 7-7203.” Jean recorded it for Capitol, but the label left it unreleased. The song sat there. A lonely telephone number. A heartbreak line waiting for somebody to dial it. Hawkshaw finally told her that if Capitol was not going to release it, he would record it himself. King Records released his version on March 2, 1963. Three days later, Hawkshaw Hawkins was dead. The plane crash near Camden took him, Patsy Cline, Cowboy Copas, and pilot Randy Hughes. Jean was left with the grief, the children, and the strange sound of her husband’s voice still rising on the radio. Then the song climbed. “Lonesome 7-7203” reached No. 1 after Hawkshaw was gone. Jean had recorded it first. Hawkshaw made it immortal. Country music kept dialing the number after the man who sang it could no longer answer.

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THEY GOT MARRIED ON A CONCERT STAGE IN WICHITA. LESS THAN THREE YEARS LATER, JEAN SHEPARD WAS LEFT WITH TWO SONS AND A HUSBAND COUNTRY MUSIC COULD ONLY HEAR ON RECORDS. They met inside the world that had already claimed both of them — radio shows, road dates, the Grand Ole Opry, dressing rooms, and the kind of touring life where a singer’s home could feel like whatever town had the next stage. Jean was not fragile. She had already fought her way into hard country when women were still expected to sound sweeter than the men around them. “A Dear John Letter” had taken her to No. 1. The Opry had taken her in. She had survived one bad early marriage and kept her career anyway. Hawkshaw was different. Six-foot-five. Smooth. Charismatic. A West Virginia singer people called “Eleven Yards of Personality.” He had the height, the grin, and the kind of stage presence that made a crowd feel like he had walked in from a bigger life. On November 26, 1960, they married onstage during a concert in Wichita, Kansas. It was not just a courthouse promise. Ken Nelson gave Jean away. A local disc jockey broadcast the ceremony over the radio. The crowd was there. The music world was there. Their private vow entered country history through a microphone. For a while, it looked like the show and the marriage could live together. They toured. They built a home in Goodlettsville. They had a son, Don Robin, named after friends Don Gibson and Marty Robbins. Jean became pregnant again. Then the calendar turned cruel. The marriage that had started in front of an audience ended with Jean carrying the part no audience could sing for her — a toddler, an unborn child, and a husband whose voice kept climbing the chart after he was gone.

JEAN SHEPARD CUT “LONESOME 7-7203” BEFORE HER HUSBAND DID. CAPITOL LEFT IT SITTING. THEN HAWKSHAW HAWKINS RECORDED IT — AND DIED THREE DAYS AFTER ITS RELEASE. The song did not start as Hawkshaw Hawkins’ last hit. It passed through Jean Shepard first. By the early 1960s, Jean was already one of country music’s toughest women. She had come up through honky-tonk, made “A Dear John Letter” a No. 1 duet, joined the Grand Ole Opry, and proved she was not just a pretty harmony voice in a man’s business. Hawkshaw Hawkins was already part of that same Opry world. Tall, smooth, steady, with a career that had stretched from West Virginia radio to national country stages. He and Jean married in 1960. Two singers. Two roads. One house outside Nashville. Then came a Justin Tubb song called “Lonesome 7-7203.” Jean recorded it for Capitol, but the label left it unreleased. The song sat there. A lonely telephone number. A heartbreak line waiting for somebody to dial it. Hawkshaw finally told her that if Capitol was not going to release it, he would record it himself. King Records released his version on March 2, 1963. Three days later, Hawkshaw Hawkins was dead. The plane crash near Camden took him, Patsy Cline, Cowboy Copas, and pilot Randy Hughes. Jean was left with the grief, the children, and the strange sound of her husband’s voice still rising on the radio. Then the song climbed. “Lonesome 7-7203” reached No. 1 after Hawkshaw was gone. Jean had recorded it first. Hawkshaw made it immortal. Country music kept dialing the number after the man who sang it could no longer answer.

SHE SAID A MAN WITH A GUN WAS WAITING IN THE BACK SEAT. DAYS LATER, TAMMY WYNETTE STILL WALKED ONSTAGE IN SOUTH CAROLINA. Tammy Wynette already knew what it meant to sing pain for a living. By 1978, she was not just a country star. She was the woman behind “Stand by Your Man,” “D-I-V-O-R-C-E,” “I Don’t Wanna Play House,” and the kind of songs that made broken homes sound like they had wallpaper, bills, children, and nowhere clean to hide. Her life had become part of the story too. Marriages. George Jones. Public fights. Illness. A voice that could make surrender sound noble even when the woman singing it was barely holding the pieces together. Then came October 4, 1978. Tammy had gone shopping at Green Hills in Nashville for a birthday gift for her daughter. When she returned to her car, she later said a masked man was hiding in the back seat with a gun. He forced her to drive, beat her, and released her about 80 miles away in Giles County. The story sounded like something too strange even for country music. Questions followed. Rumors followed. No one was ever convicted. The mystery stayed attached to her name for the rest of her life. But Tammy still had a calendar. A few days later, bruised and shaken, she appeared for a concert in Columbia, South Carolina. The fans saw the First Lady of Country Music under the lights. What they could not fully see was the woman who had just been left on a Tennessee roadside, trying to explain a nightmare nobody could neatly close. Loretta Lynn turned poverty into defiance. Patsy Cline turned survival into steel. Tammy Wynette turned private wreckage into a voice so controlled it almost hid the damage.