The Mundane Matters

Nudges & Smudges

2010-01-03T22:54:00.008-06:00

I have lots of family photos that I've framed and arranged on a dresser in my bedroom. I have them there so that those are the last faces I see before I go to sleep each night, and the first faces to greet me when I awaken each morning. They remind me of where I come from, who I really am, and who all awaits me when my days on earth are over. I'm arguably the most sentimental member of my family. I make no apology for that distinction.

This afternoon, while cleaning and moving those frames around, I noticed something that I sometimes forget that I have....just behind a couple of pictures of my grandparents sits their old rotary telephone. I know it seems like an odd piece of memorabilia, but it was really one of the only things I asked for when the family divided up their estate. It's what you would expect from a rotary dial phone - black and pretty beat up. But there, hand-written in the center of the dial, is a phone number I loved to call when I was a child. My grandparents always answered the phone with one word - "Stevens." We all thought that was peculiar, but it suited them so who were we to question...and who, among my family members, wouldn't love to hear that greeting one more time.
I reached down and gently picked up the phone receiver - not to make a call - it hasn't worked in years - but I just wanted to hold it for a second. Then I did something I don't suppose I've ever done. I flipped over the receiver and looked at the earpiece and mouthpiece. I froze in place. There was a woman's makeup on the earpiece. I'd never noticed it before. It was my grandmother's makeup. At this point a flood of memories washed over me - as though I had discovered a time capsule. Then, suddenly I remembered what day this is - January 4, 2010. My grandmother died on January 4, 2000. Today marks 10 years since her passing.
As I rested the phone receiver back in its cradle, I sat down and thought about my grandmother. Her name was Pauline Martin. She was the oldest of 3 daughters born to Fred and Lucy Martin of Okolona, Mississippi. She graduated from Wren School and married C. L. Stevens. They ran a small general store on the outskirts of town until the invention of the television led my grandfather into a new career as a TV repairman. All the while my grandmother did what most girls of that time did - she was a faithful and dutiful wife and mother. She prepared 3 hot meals a day her entire married life. She nursed her dying parents, and an uncle, in her own home. She raised 4 children and spoiled 10 grandchildren. She was the most generous, hard working, and loving person I have ever known. Even into her 80's, she would stand on her feet all day - often in great pain - to prepare a big meal for her family. She was never happier than when we were all seated around her table. We adored her.
About 3 months after her death, the entire family gathered for Easter dinner at the old home place. Everything was just as she had left it. We determined that we would have one last meal at her home before we emptied out the house for good. It was a beautiful Easter Sunday, and though we tried to embrace the joy of that special day, none of us could mask the sadness we all felt as we prepared for this "last supper." Mamaw had cupboards still full of food. There were many jars of vegetables that she had canned herself. So we did what we knew she would want us to do. We opened those jars and we prepared a fine dinner in the tradition that she herself had established. I'll never forget looking down at my plate and seeing the last bite of food and thinking, "this is it - I really don't want to take that last bite." I did take that last bite - reverently - like one might take communion. Someone discovered Christmas candy she had make and left in the freezer. It was her famous divinity. I took a piece. It's still in my freezer today.

I wish that everyone who reads this could have known Pauline Stevens. How blessed I am to have called her "Mamaw" for so many years. And how thankful I am that God nudged me today - of all days - with something as simple as a smudge of makeup on a telephone. I will never wash that phone... and I'll never thaw that divinity.

Africa

2009-07-25T09:23:00.000-06:00

Obama Corrected by Congressman

2009-06-10T10:34:00.001-06:00

Mute Monk Mania

2009-03-03T10:49:00.001-06:00

Racing Toward Eternity

2009-02-23T12:42:00.003-06:00

"...many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased" (Daniel 12:4)

Why I Never Write Songs on an Empty Stomach...

2009-02-20T11:43:00.002-06:00

This was performed on the morning show in Tupelo, Mississippi - a show I've appeared on many times, but never like this...

Super Bowl Commercial NBC Won't Allow

2009-01-30T14:47:00.000-06:00

Yolks & Yokes

2008-11-03T12:57:00.012-06:00

I put a McCain/Palin sign in my yard a few weeks ago. Two days later I awoke to find the sign removed and an Obama/Biden sign in its place. The thoughtful Obama supporter who did this also left breakfast for me….eggs all over the side of my house. I later found out that the Obama sign was stolen from my neighbor’s yard and placed in my yard – I like to think of it as the “redistribution” of yard signage. What an effective way to garner support for your tolerant positions.

A friend of mine experienced more love from the left when she went to vote last week. She made the mistake of brandishing a McCain bumper sticker on car (how insensitive of her). Our friends, the tolerant Democrats, shouted obscenities at her in the parking lot while one of the well-wishers actually walked over and spat on her vehicle. I guess she had it coming…

Now, I’m sure Mr. Obama is a congenial sort. He certainly presents himself as the perfect gentleman and champion of the common man. But somewhere, in my childhood, I was taught that “birds of a feather flock together” and that we are known by the company we keep. Apparently, that’s not a regarded theory in the current political landscape. I’ve tried to imagine the media lynching that would have occurred had we learned, early on, that John McCain had been a member of a white supremacist congregation for twenty years. What explanation could he have offered to redeem himself. His own party would have abandoned him in droves. And yet, when we learned of Obama’s twenty year membership in a radical Chicago church that espouses Black Liberation Theology and blames the white man for creating the AIDS virus in order to wipe out the black race, then all it took for Obama to lay the matter to rest was a statement claiming that he never heard such racially charged and ludicrous remarks. Forgive me for attempting to awaken a sleeping issue, but I feel we must have missed something. The "plausible" conclusion offered was that Obama (luckily) missed those rare Sundays when the Reverend Jeremiah Wright momentarily lost his mind and spewed hatred for all things American. Other than those few isolated rants, the right Reverend Wright was apparently a peaceable teddy bear in the pulpit. That’s how it was read on the nightly news so it must be true. But what bothered me more than hearing Wright screaming, “God d*#n America” was hearing the shouts and laughter from his faithful flock. As the camera panned to the congregation, most were on their feet and cheering him on like a gladiator at a blood bath. That spoke volumes to me. They had heard it before and wanted more.

So let me get this straight….Barack Obama sat, Sunday after Sunday….for twenty years….shoulder to shoulder with brothers and sisters who have a palatable hatred for this country and for the white man. And let’s say he never actually heard one of Reverend Wright's tirades. Fine. But did he really have to? Did he ever speak to anyone sitting around him? Was he clueless to the pervading sentiments within his home church? One is left to conclude that he is either lying, or that he was completely detached from his house of worship. I’m not sure which conclusion is more troubling.

And the birds just keep on flockin'. Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, one of the most dangerous men in our hemisphere, just voiced his support for Obama today. The terrorist group Hamas has officially voiced their support for an Obama presidency. Jessie Jackson, while in France, stated that Obama will help heal the wounds that America has inflicted on the world. That’s right – blame America first. Did I mention that Louis Farrakhan backs Obama? Of course Michael Moore, Rosie O’Donnell, Alec Baldwin, Barbra Streisand and most of Hollywood supports Obama. That’s all the reason I need to vote the opposite way.

Obama's church affiliation and questionable friendships speak to much deeper issues of character and judgement....issues the compliant media has determined we have no right to explore. They would have us believe that anyone who questions Obama questions the need for change and should be disregarded as ignorant and woefully out of step. The truly sad part of this story is that young Americans want to be cool and current and The Tube defines that for their generation. It’s definitely not cool to vote for the old guy. I get it. But I don’t care. Bring on the eggs. Let's make omelets. My one fear is that America may get the president we deserve rather than the president we need.

The Power of One

2008-10-23T21:16:00.001-06:00

Once More, From the Top...

2008-06-11T10:10:00.002-06:00

Hunger No More

2008-05-07T07:20:00.010-06:00

If ignorance is bliss...

why aren't more people happy?

I was standing in line at my neighborhood Subway restaurant - watching my sandwich being made. The customer in front of me ordered a messy meatball sub. The guy behind the cash register took one look at the sloppy sub and said, "You're gonna need a bunch of these." Then he licked his index finger and, with the freshly moistened digit...he scooped up a handful of napkins and shoved them into the bag with the sandwich. The customer seemed unaffected. And suddenly...in that bright, shining moment...I knew I had discovered the secret to Jared's weight loss.

Achieving Anonymity

2008-04-30T21:08:00.013-06:00

Last night I did something that I’ve never done before. I stood at a microphone and delivered an acceptance speech for a songwriting award. And not just any old songwriting award – a Songwriter of the Year award. And not just any old Songwriter of the Year award – a Professional Songwriter of the Year award (as apposed to an Artist Songwriter of the Year award). Hold your applause. The award wasn’t for me. It was for one far more deserving than I. My friend, Dianne Wilkinson, was nominated for the SGN Music Award but couldn’t attend the event, so she asked if I would accept it for her….if she won. She honestly didn’t think she would win since she’d never won anything before. Ever. How could that be, I wondered. She’s been a fixture on the Southern Gospel songwriting landscape for decades.

You see, there are two classes of songwriters. There are artists, whose names and faces are known throughout the industry, who happen to write. Even though some (not all) of them write primarily for their own projects, or mainly in collaboration with more established writers, their ability to “write” becomes as much a part of their bio as does their ability to sing. Some would even say an artist is more legitimate if they can do both, so it's a good marketing move. And then there are some who are far better writers than singers. But all "Artist/Writers" enjoy the same perk - they are instantly recognizable by the fans and the industry, and because of that, their names will be the first to appear on the ballots for Songwriter of the Year....even the ones who are novices at the craft. Apparently, one good song is all it takes to be eligible. That’s technically understandable.

Then there are “Professional Writers.” These are individuals who don’t stand on a platform night after night, but who supply many of today’s Southern Gospel artists with songs so that they can do just that. Despite their success rate, their names rarely appear on those very same ballots I just mentioned. Makes sense....fans don't award who fans don't know. Unless they read the fine print they’ve likely never seen these names. And with digital downloads steadily overtaking CD sales, it’s even less likely that they’ll know who wrote their favorite song. Radio stations have a hard enough time telling us who sang the last song we heard, much less who wrote it. Of course, the die-hard fan can always learn all there is to know about a project by reading record reviews on their favorite web sites. Well, almost everything there is to know….it seems that many reviewers think it’s only important to list notable writers’ names that lend credibility to the project. Early on in my career, I joked with many of my songwriting friends that we should all have “Ann Dothers” carved on our tombstones – since that’s the way our names so often appeared in print....“This project features songs written by such notable writers as ‘Big Name Artist/Writer A, Big Name Artist/Writer B, Big Name Artist/Writer C….and others.” Can someone please pass a law stating that a press release or an album review must either mention all the writers or none of the writers? To be omitted says that you’re not important enough to mention – plain and simple.

When I think that many of my immensely talented friends (who sacrifice to write gospel music) will likely never be publicly acknowledged for their lifetimes of great work, I’m profoundly saddened. I applaud www.sogospelnews .com and their event, The SGN Music Awards for creating two separate awards for the two kinds of writers I’ve mentioned here. May other award shows follow your lead and do the right thing. The fans can’t be expected to know who toils behind the scenes on their own. I’m just glad that last night I was able to witness the bestowing of “honor, where honor is due.”

Yesterday Once More

2008-04-19T23:38:00.005-06:00

I'm the self-appointed historian for my family. I've been gathering all the old family photographs that I can find and digitizing them. In the process, I'm attempting to restore them. So many have been neglected over time, and are, sadly, in various states of decay. Keep in mind, I'm a musician and fairly technologically challenged. But that never stops me from trying. I recently discovered Adobe Photoshop Elements and have stumbled upon enough tricks to do some pretty amazing restorations. Here's my favorite so far. This is the family of my great, great grandparents - The Martins from Sullivan, Illinois. The original photo was almost lost. As you can see, large chunks were missing and there was discoloration throughout. I was able to rebuild the clapboard siding by simply copying a few intact sections of board and pasting them into the void. Check out the window. I had enough of the bottom section to copy into the missing top section. What fun! I love doing things that are clearly worthy of my time and effort. And knowing that my work will outlive me keeps me writing songs AND restoring photos.

Not Forgotten

2008-04-17T17:22:00.008-06:00

Yesterday I wrote with James Isaac Elliott at the old Sony building on Music Row. Apparently Mike Curb now owns the building and Belmont University is using part of it for their new song writing program, of which James is the chairman. We were settling in to our writer's room when I looked out the window and saw Reba McEntire's Starstruck Entertainment building across the street. I noticed what appeared to be a helicopter pad on the roof and remember that they had built one, but that the neighbors all complained about potential noise issues - so they haven't used it. And as thoughts tend to do, the helicopter situation reminded me of Reba's charter airline company by the same name - Starstruck - then my mind went to small planes....and Reba....and of course, I couldn't help but remember the tragic plane crash that killed 7 members her band and her road manager back in 1991. I was so moved by that tragedy that I attended their memorial service at Christ Church. It was so sad. I remember looking at their names and faces in the service program. All of them were under the age of 30 - with so many hopes and dreams ahead of them. Then...after a few moments of day dreaming - looking out the window - I looked down at the keyboard in front of me and the case that came with it - sitting at my feet. Stenciled on the side of the case was "Joey Cigainero" - Reba's keyboard player who died in that fateful crash. I froze in place. Stunned. I turned to James and said, "Is that the same Joey Cigainero who died in the crash?" He said it was. He said Joey's parents donated his gear to Belmont (his alma mater) so that others could benefit from the use of it. And there I was, playing this boy's keyboard - writing songs he'll never hear - and wondering why it is that some lives end so soon while others continue to live their dreams.

The Big Switch

2008-04-16T15:26:00.005-06:00

I've been an ASCAP writer my entire career....until tomorrow. Tomorrow I will officially become a member of BMI. This was not a decision I made lightly. Based on my experience with ASCAP, and with a publishing company that represents numerous BMI writers, I believe BMI holds Southern Gospel music, and its writers in higher regard than ASCAP does. And it's not just about the money. It's about respect and acknowledgment of a viable art form and an industry.

Young Patriots

2008-04-15T18:20:00.002-06:00

A quartet of young guys from California recently recorded a song I wrote long before "911" - "I Still Believe in America." The group is called FreeWay. They created a moving slide show to go with the song and performed it at a large United Pentecostal convention recently. I just saw this, for the first time, a moment ago and was deeply moved. There's just something about the marriage of music and images that stirs me deeply. Thanks FreeWay for taking such a courageous and mature stand in support of our nation. And thanks for recording my song.

Surprise Concert

2008-04-14T21:44:00.007-06:00

My dear friends, Brenda and Tige totally surprised a lot of people a few weeks ago. They invited me and 7 of their best friends to join them for dinner at PF Changs on a Thursday night. Normally I don't do a lot of socializing on a "school night," but they were very insistent that this was a celebration and they wanted me to be there. Of course, they wouldn't tell me what the big celebration was, so I HAD to go - curiosity got the best of me.
One by one we all arrived at the restaurant and began speculating as to what the whole gathering was about. We wondered if they were pregnant, or maybe they were moving away....none of our theories were plausible, but made for good small talk. Then our hosts arrived and we were seated. We could all tell they couldn't stand it any longer and were dying to fill us in on the big secret - which they did right away.
They had bought all of us tickets to the Michael Buble concert that evening. I've never been more surprised. We all were. I can't tell you what a fun dinner and concert we had. I've loved Michael's music since I first heard him but had never seen him in concert. The tickets had sold out almost immediately after they were released, so I knew my chances of seeing him would be slim.

So to not only see him, but to see him for FREE was amazing. What great friends I have. I want to be that kind of friend....one who looks for ways to do the unexpected and spares no expense to give others a memory they might never have had.

Things I Did While Not Blogging

2008-04-11T07:59:00.007-06:00

There are several noteworthy things I did this past year while I wasn't blogging. My favorite was a trip to Chicago. It's my favorite city in all the world. Here are some pictures from my vacation. I stayed in one of the most historic hotels in the country - The Drake. It's on Chicago's Magnificent Mile and right near the water. This is me watching the sunrise on the beach - just a few step from the hotel. I took an architectural tour of the city by boat - traveling down the Chicago river - I highly recommend it. I also had the adventure of a lifetime - I took a Segway tour of the city. That is the most fun and freeing experience I've ever had. I highly recommend it.

This is a picture I took of the skyline from atop the Ferris Wheel on Navy Pier - breath taking.

I can't wait to go back. I'm seriously thinking the Christian music industry should pick up and relocate to Michigan Avenue - at least for the summers.

My Oh My Space

2008-04-08T21:48:00.006-06:00

As though I'm not busy enough....I've created my very own MySpace page. It's a place where you can hear demos of new songs that I've written and news regarding songs that have done well for me. Check it out.

www.myspace.com/martyfunderburk

Guilt & Peer Pressure

2008-04-08T08:26:00.004-06:00

Guilt and peer pressure are undeniable motivators. My friends conducted a bloggers' intervention yesterday and have all but threatened me with physical harm if I did not resume blogging immediately. Well - maybe that's a bit over stated....but, what was to be a simple writing session with Tony Wood turned into a guilt pile-on. Sue Smith and Joel Lindsey (Master Bloggers) berated me severely for neglecting The Mundane Matters and I totally caved.
To all my faithful readers - I apologize for the silence. And I offer no excuse. Other things captured my short attention span. I now see the err of my ways and will attempt to remedy the situation. So there. I'm back.

The 12 Days of Christmas....and then some

2007-12-05T07:52:00.001-06:00

For Such is The Kingdom of Heaven

2007-11-15T15:09:00.000-06:00

Logan is a 13 year-old boy who lives on a ranch in a very small town in Nebraska. Logan listens to a Christian radio station which broadcasts from Houston, TX. Logan called the radio station distraught because he had to take down a calf . His words have wisdom beyond his years.

When Bad Things Happen to Good Medleys

2007-08-23T15:45:00.000-06:00

What part of human natures makes us stare at a car wreck? Probably the same part that keeps me riveted to this:

Heavy PETting

2007-08-15T20:09:00.000-06:00

Attention all dogs!!!

The following are important instructions for every dog to know.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR PROPERLY HUGGING A BABY.

1. First, spy a baby

2. Second, be sure that the object you spied was
indeed a baby by employing classic sniffing techniques. If you
smell baby powder and the wonderful aroma of wet diapers this is indeed
a baby.

3. Next you will need to flatten the baby before actually beginning the
hugging process.
**Note: The added slobber should help in future steps by making the "paw
slide" easier.

4. The "paw slide"
Simply slide paws around baby and prepare for possible close-up.

5. Finally, if a camera is present, you will need to execute
the difficult and patented "hug, smile, and lean" so as to
achieve the best photo quality.

Dogs, if this is properly done, it will secure you a warm, dry,
climate-controlled environment for the rest of
your life.

Present Protocol

2007-08-12T11:27:00.001-06:00

My birthday is not until tomorrow but I’ve already enjoyed 3 birthday dinners and many gifts and cards. It’s always humbling to think that someone went out of their way to find a thoughtful gift for me. I’m taken back by that kind of thing, even when it might seem expected. Which brings up a touchy subject: the etiquette of gift giving. I’m adept at most of life’s social scenarios, but the protocol for the giving and receiving of gifts has had me stumped.

I’ve often heard that there are two kinds of people in this world – givers and takers. I’ve tried to strike a balance between the two by giving generously and receiving graciously. But giving to someone can inadvertently burden that person with an implied obligation to reciprocate at some point in the future. I wish it didn’t have to be that way. This dilemma is magnified when it relates to new friendships where no precedent exists. Every year I wrestle with whether or not to buy Christmas presents for certain people. I wonder if they are going to buy me a Christmas present. I would like to give to them, expecting nothing in return, but I don't want to put them on the spot. And on the other hand, if they give me a gift and I don’t have one for them, not only will I appear insensitive or uncaring, but they might feel awkward for putting me on the spot. It's a vicious cycle. One remedy for this quandary is to address the matter long before the occasion, but that can appear presumptuous. And agreeing to “exchange gifts” robs the whole scene of its pseudo spontaneity. So I came up with a solution. It’s not perfect, but it can save a lot of embarrassment.

Buy a Christmas card and a Starbucks card. Leave both in the car. If the new friend shows up with nothing but a card, thank them and tell them their card is in the car. Excuse yourself, retrieve the greeting card and quickly return with said card in hand. If they actually present you with a gift, follow the same procedure as stated above but include the Starbucks card in the envelope. If, on the other hand they showed up empty handed, say nothing. The next day mail them the Christmas card and pocket the Starbucks card for yourself – nothing wasted.

Driven by More

2007-08-06T22:07:00.000-06:00

When I was a little boy, my greatest joy was going to the Ben Franklin 5¢ & 10¢ store Saturday morning and picking out a new Matchbox car. I loved those little cars and had quite the collection. When I got tired of them I would stage a horrible accident involving lighter fluid and a tragic fire. My imagination was at full tilt even then.
While I’ve always been fascinated by cars I’ve never actually owned a really nice one. I’ve been driving a 12 year old teal Accord for the past 6 years. It now has over a quarter of a million miles on it. The paint is chipping everywhere, the AC is out, the driver’s door will only open part way, the muffler has a hole in it and….my friends are all embarrassed for me. But I’ve chugged along - even though I know that people often judge you by the car you drive. I’ve always hated that about our society. After all, it’s just a chariot. A mere bucket-o-bolts. A way to get from point A to point B. But I had put off the inevitable for about as long as I could and this past weekend I knew it was time to “bite the bullet.”

I've never liked dealing with car salesmen. I’m so ignorant about the subject matter and I always think they sense it and seize upon my vulnerability. But this time was completely different. A friend of mine took me to a dealership on Saturday and the salesperson was a friend of his. She was hilarious, laid back, not pushy at all and genuinely interested in doing what was best for me. I did not intend to buy a car that day, but I’m really glad I did. I now have the nicest vehicle I’ve ever owned. It’s not a new car, but it’s looks and drives like new. Financial guru, Dave Ramsey, taught me to never buy a new car and I'm glad I heeded his advice.

Am I a different person for driving a better car? Nah. Will people think more highly of me when I pull up in a cool vehicle? Who cares. I’m thankful for the old Accord and the humility it taught me. I think I have a healthier perspective on “stuff” because of it. This new one will turn to rust soon enough – but for now I’m just hoping the AC holds out through the rest of the summer!

Mundane Redefined

2007-08-02T22:04:00.000-06:00

I love reading my friends’ blogs and learning about all the minute details of their days. But when I think about my typical day, I wonder if any of it is worth recounting. That’s why most of my posts are topical. Basically, my life is sort of boring. But for a lack of anything burning on my mind tonight, I’ll tell you about my day.

I was supposed to be the guest on Ann Downing’s television show, “Reality Check” today and have been gearing up for that for a few weeks now. Of course, as you faithful readers know, I’ve been producing in the studio a lot lately and haven’t had time to do much other than that. Because of this, I was in serious need of a haircut. I couldn’t bear the thought of the bright lights beaming down on the unruly mop atop my head. But, try as I may, I couldn’t get an appointment. So I had resigned myself to relying upon unholy amounts of hair gel. But then God moved. I got an email last night saying that the taping had been postponed. I tried not to act overly enthused about this set back, but it had bought me a little more time to get my grooming house in order.

So I woke up this morning without a plan. I called and got a hair appointment with a new stylist for the afternoon. Then I went to the voting polls and did my civic duty in regard to our mayoral race. After that, I put my car on auto pilot and mysteriously found myself at Starbucks. I had a few moments to blow before my hair cut so I went to the Apple store and lusted after the iPhone – AGAIN! (I get the feeling those sales people all roll their eyes when I walk in…hmm)

From there I went for my haircut. Then I fought rush hour traffic back home. (did I mention my car’s air conditioner is OUT …and it’s at least 99 degrees in Nashville? Nice!) I finally got home – watered myself, and the plants. Met a new neighbor. Downloaded 2 new song demos that my publisher emailed to me. As I always do, I went to the fridge and pulled out a bag of broccoli (I never tire of that stuff) and I reached for my trusty NutriSystems meal. After dinner I sat down to watch a bit of a new DVD I ordered online, “Islam – What the West Needs to Know” by Gregory M. Davis and Brian Daly. I know so little about this religion and the Islamic people and I’m hoping that this will give me some much-needed perspective. But that’s heavy stuff right before bed, so I thought I would end my night with this diary entry.

So there you have it. I didn’t produce an album or write a song today, but I did my part for my community (voting) for our city’s economy (Starbucks) for the advancement of technology (Apple – if I keep walking away empty handed I’m sure they’ll reconsider their prices) for my friends (haircut) for the earth (watering) for the preservation of Southern hospitality (neighbor) for the farmers (broccoli) and for world peace (DVD). Now...I wonder how I can change the world tomorrow….

Desperately Seeking Sue

2007-07-30T14:39:00.000-06:00

Many of you who visit my blog also read Sue Smith's blog. And you've come to expect a daily dose of her wit and wisdom. But you may be suffering withdrawl symptoms lately because she's seemingly disappeared from cyber space. Fear not. She is well though her blog is not. She's asked that we use this new blog address until the old one can be restored.

http://writeaboutjesus.blogspot.com/

This has been a public service announcement on behalf of Sue Smith Addicts Anonymous.

Cold Calls

2007-07-30T14:22:00.001-06:00

I began this blog a few months ago during a slow period in my life. Suddenly all of that changed. I’ve produced 16 albums since I started The Mundane Matters back in May. Yes, I said SIXTEEN! So to all my blog fans, I apologize for drawing you in and then letting you down. I’ll try to do better – but no promises. When I’ve got too much going on at work, everything else tends to suffer. It’s not that I can’t multi-task, but I think this picture says it all.

A few days ago I was gathering my belongings to rush out the door for another day in the studio. I couldn’t find my phone anywhere. I ran through the house in a panic – looking in, and under everything – but no phone. When I got home that evening I grabbed a bag of broccoli out of the refrigerator and guess what….you guessed it. My phone spent the day in the fridge. So to all of you who tried to call me recently and I didn’t take your call, don’t think I was giving you the cold shoulder. I just make it a policy to never accept cold calls. I might need a vacation...

Say What?

2007-07-12T21:19:00.000-06:00

A friend, who knows I love words, sent this to me. See if you can you read these right the first time?

1) The bandage was wound around the wound.
2) The farm was used to produce produce.
3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
4) We must polish the Polish furniture.
5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.
6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.
7) Since there's no time like the present, he felt it was time to present the present
8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
10) I did not object to the object.
11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row
13) They were too close to the door to close it.
14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.
15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
18) Upon seeing the tear in the painting, I shed a tear.
19) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
20) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, guinea pigs are neither from Guinea nor are they pigs, and when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.

If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth, beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? Why do we park on driveways and drive on parkways?

If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which an alarm goes off by going on. Oh, and why doesn't "Buick" rhyme with "quick"

You lovers of the English language might enjoy this as well:

There is a two-letter word that perhaps has more meanings than any other two-letter word, and that is "UP." It's easy to understand UP, meaning toward the sky or at the top of the list, but when we awaken in the morning, why do we wake UP? At a meeting, why does a topic come UP? Why do we speak UP and why are the officers UP for election, and why is it UP to the secretary to write UP a report?

We call UP our friends. And we use it to brighten UP a room, polish UP the silver; warm UP the leftovers and clean UP the kitchen. We lock UP the house and some guys fix UP the old car . At other times the little word has real special meaning. People stir UP trouble, line UP for tickets, work UP an appetite, and think UP excuses. To be dressed is one thing but to be dressed UP is special.

And this UP is confusing: A drain must be opened UP because it is stopped UP . We open UP a store in the morning but we close it UP at night. We seem to be pretty mixed UP about UP! To be knowledgeable about the proper uses of UP, look the word UP in the dictionary. In a desk-sized dictionary, it takes UP almost 1/4th of the page and can add UP to about thirty definitions. If you are UP to it, you might try building UP a list of the many ways UP is used. It will take UP a lot of your time, but if you don't give UP, you may wind UP with a hundred or more. When it threatens to rain, we say it is clouding UP. When the sun comes out we say it is clearing UP. When it rains, it wets the earth and often messes things UP. When it doesn't rain for awhile, things dry UP. We could go on, but I'll wrap it UP, for now my time is UP!

Thomas A. Dorsey

2007-07-11T08:47:00.000-06:00

This is priceless. I had always heard that Thomas A. Dorsey was the father of Gospel Music, as we know it, but now I understand why....

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand, precious Lord
Lead me home

When my way grows drear
Precious Lord, linger near
When my life is almost gone
Hear my cry, hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand, precious Lord
Lead me home

When the darkness appears
And the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand, precious Lord
Lead me home

Words & Music by Thomas A. Dorsey

I Still Believe in America

2007-07-04T10:21:00.000-06:00

Verse 1:

When I see Old Glory waving in a school yard
Where children laugh and play and learn what’s right
I remember those who fought to forge our freedom
And those who’d rather die than lose the fight
But today it seems we take it all for granted
And it’s easier to blame and criticize
But I, for one, will stand and pray
For healing in our land today
I still believe that freedom’s worth the price

Chorus:

I still believe we’re the last hope of liberty
I still believe in the promise of the land I love
And I am not ashamed to say
I pledge allegiance still today
I still believe in America

Verse 2:

When I think about the future of this nation
I wonder if the torch will still burn bright
And if each new generation will remember
And defend her honor then with all their might
For I believe that the faith of our fathers
Is the cornerstone that made our nation great
And we will stand for centuries
If we remain upon our knees
I still believe, by faith, it’s not too late

Words and music by Marty Funderburk

Out of the Mouths of Babes....

2007-06-26T14:14:00.000-06:00

This moved me to tears...

Hype Bites

2007-06-19T18:31:00.000-06:00

My first job in Nashville was with a company called Spectra Distribution. My boss was the legendary record producer, Bob MacKenzie. I so wanted to make a good impression. My job was to promote new choral releases by clients like David Clydesdale and Camp Kirkland. I traveled to choral workshops and led music directors as we sang through selections of their works. I learned how to hype anything new as being the biggest and best ever! Hype is really not something I came by naturally. I’ve never been comfortable promoting myself and have always opted to let my work speak for me. But at this time in my life, I needed to be a salesman so I dutifully rose to the occasion.

One of our clients, George King, had just signed a celebrity to his Diadem record label – none other than Shirley Jones – you know, the star of “Oklahoma!,” “Carousel,” “Brigadoon,” “The Music Man,” AND the mom on The Partridge Family. Record distribution was not a part of my job description, so I didn’t make it my business to follow the progress of her project. I only knew enough to know that she was recording a Christian album and our company was distributing it.

As fate would have it, one afternoon I came bounding into the office after lunch – spun around a row of cubicles and ran right into Shirley. Right there, in my face, was Mrs. Partridge. She was every bit the polished “Old Hollywood” star you would imagine. I stuttered, stammered, smiled, froze, stuck out my hand and tried to sound professional – since we were representing her. All I could think to say was, “It’s so nice to meet you Miss Jones – I love your new album.” She sort of half smiled, while tilting her head a bit to one side and looking confused, yet gracious. She simply said, “thank you – thank you very much.” I had nothing else, so after a brief moment of painful silence I nervously shuffled sideways - not knowing what to do with my hands or my feet.

All afternoon I wondered why she looked so puzzled and awkward when we met until someone told me that she had not yet recorded the new album. Lesson learned. Hype bites! But Shirley's goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life.

Privilege & Persepective

2007-06-10T10:37:00.000-06:00

I was born to privilege. No, we weren’t wealthy. We lived in a small farm house built by my great grandfather. The white asbestos shingled structure was unceremoniously constructed in a cow pasture in rural Mississippi.

My family never owned a new vehicle. Our first family vacation involved loading all the kids in the back of a 60’s Chevrolet pickup - complete with wooden cattle gates surrounding the bed and a tarpaulin stretched across the top. With a cooler full of RC Colas, Vienna sausages, potted meat and saltines – we set out to explore the far reaches of civilization (aka Ruby Falls and Rock City.) We were living large.

I was born to privilege. Maybe not by standards that most would imagine, but the older I get, the more I realize that I was uniquely privileged. To be surrounded by loving parents, grandparents, great grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins – all who were God-fearing, church going people is a rare privilege in this modern age. There is built-in accountability in close family structures. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents. I would never dream of embarrassing my extended family. With every prayer around the dinner table - every flannel-graph story in Vacation Bible School - every time we gathered around my grandparents old pump organ to sing Christmas carols, I had an abiding sense that God was at the center of our lives. I knew that He loved me and that my family loved me and cheered me on - even when it meant I didn't always get my way. What comfort – what stability this affords me - even to this very day.

As I followed the story, and saw the images of Paris Hilton being carted back to jail this week I thought about how underprivileged she truly is. Though she’s been given all the things that money can buy, she’s apparently not been equipped to face life itself. Her parents failed to teach her respect and responsibility, and now she has to learn it a much harder way. Her courtroom cries to her mom were more than telling. They sounded like the cries of a child to the one who should be able to protect her. Those cries were too little, too late.

Her mom could have helped her by teaching her that with “privilege” comes responsibility – that every blessing she enjoys comes from her Creator. Apparently Paris was not afforded that privilege. So, as one who often takes for granted the simple, but good life I was born into, I find myself pitying Paris. And praying for Paris. For the first time in her life she is forced to endure silence and separation. But I believe that this may be the first time in her life that she could possibly hear the still, small voice of God. No friends, no parties, no paparazzi, no staff, no attorneys, no mom, no shopping, no music, no TV – just Paris in an 8 X 12 cell. I’m praying that, in her brokenness, she cries out to the only One who can help. There may never be another opportunity for her to escape the madness of her world long enough to hear God calling. Please join me in praying that this lost child will see her life for what it truly is, and see God’s offer of abundant life for all it truly can be.

Fast Forward Phenomenons

2007-06-05T22:53:00.000-06:00

So I'm chasing links around the web a moment ago and land on Word Records' site....and the first face I see is an old roommate I hadn't seen in years - Mark Roach. Back then I was a struggling musician and needed someone to rent my extra room. I ran an ad in the paper and this Belmont University kid showed up on my doorstep. He seemed nice enough and I thought it would be neat if my renter was a like-minded Christian musician. But the whole time we were together I never once heard him sing a word. He never showed me a single song he'd ever tried to write. He talked about wanting to work in the Christian music industry, but it seemed like little more than talk. He used to hang out with a college buddy - introduced me to him - some kid named Matthew West - but I didn't see much of a future in him either. Eventually Mark packed up his few belongings and moved back home to St. Louis.

Fast forward a few years. Mark Roach and Matthew West are both Word artists. Both great songwriters. Both amazing singers. And to think....I taught them everything they know! They'll thank me some day....

The Unseen Hand

2007-06-03T13:22:00.001-06:00

When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that her child was missing. Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused on the impressive Steinway on stage. In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out -- "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear: "Don't quit.""Keep playing." Then, leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child, and he added a running obbligato. Together, the old master and the young novice transformed what could have been a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience. The audience was so mesmerized that they couldn't recall what else the great master played. Only the classic, "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

Perhaps that's the way it is with God. What we can accomplish on our own is hardly noteworthy. We try our best, but the results aren't always graceful flowing music. However, with the hand of the Master, our life's work can truly be beautiful. The next time you set out to accomplish great feats, listen carefully. You may hear the voice of the Master, whispering in your ear, "Don't quit." "Keep playing." May you feel His arms around you and know that His hands are there, helping you turn your feeble attempts into true masterpieces Remember, God doesn't seem to call the equipped, rather, He equips the 'called.'

- Author Unknown

SyZyGy

2007-06-01T09:01:00.000-06:00

I had a rock group in high school. We called ourselves SyZyGy (pronounced C-Z-G….it’s a word, look it up). We were not your average garage band, we had the first synthesizers ever on the market, bass, guitars, drums, horns (trombones and trumpets), a manager/booking agent, and me – the singer/EmCee. Imagine, if you will, a high school version of the group Chicago.

Our first gig was a benefit concert – raising money to put indoor restrooms in a rural community center. My mother made me a gold metallic jumpsuit with a huge Elvis collar. She didn’t bother lining it so I itched like a flea bitten dog. But I wore it proudly to set-up and rehearsal. It was there that we discovered we needed more duct tape (you can never have too much duct tape). I volunteered to drive my Plymouth Fury III (baby blue with an “ah-ooo-gah” horn AND fender skirts) into town to get some. Now mind you, this was a town of about 1200 people in rural Mississippi – circa 1975. I walked into the local hardware store wearing a shiny gold jumpsuit and platform shoes. People have been killed for less….fortunately, I lived to perform another day.

We won our state FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America) talent competition and were awarded a performance at the national convention in Washington, DC. Just as we arrived at The Washington Hilton an emerald green limousine drove up. On the doors of the limousine was a picture of David Bowie and the title, “The Man Who Fell to Earth.” After inquiring we discovered that this was the name of his new movie and that he was in town for a premiere. So being the star-struck future rockers that we were, we began plotting ways to meet the rock legend himself. We found out that one entire floor of the hotel was nothing but suites, and everyone knows that a celeb never checks into a hotel using his name. One of our guys suggested that maybe Bowie checked in using his real name – David Jones (he changed it to differentiate himself from Davy Jones of The Monkees). Armed with all that knowledge, I began calling each suite directly – asking for David Jones. Eventually a lady answered and said that he wasn’t in but that he would be glad to return my call. A few hours later, after we had pretty much given up on our escapade, the phone rang – we all froze – I answered the phone and this very British voice said, “Hello, this is David Jones…er, uhm…Bowie – did someone call for me?” I freaked. I never considered what I would actually SAY if I spoke to him. So I stuttered and stammered and just told him that our band was in town for a “gig” and saw that he was staying in our hotel and thought that, maybe, we could just say hello and have a brief visit…or whatever…” He was very gracious and said that he would love to but the hour was late and he had a full day ahead. I apologized, all over myself, for taking up his time and thanked him for calling.

To be honest, I only knew his one song, “Fame,” and I always thought he was beyond bizarre – so I was relieved that I didn’t have to actually meet him. But it was fun talking with him – now how many people can say they’ve done that! I haven't seen the SyZyGy gang in years. Tommy Greer (keyboards) moved to Nashville and worked at Word Records as a writer and staff producer. He married Leigh Benson (daughter of Bob & Peggy Benson/The Benson Company) and worked on projects for artists like Sandi Patty and Andy Williams and wrote songs for Cindy Morgan, First Call and many others.

Stan Thorn (guitarist) found fame as a member of the Country super group Shenandoah (ironically he played keys with them). Based on my first original composition, "Grave of Love" (we actually performed it) - I'm sure the other guys would not have imagined I'd be making a living writing songs. I'm so glad I'm not 17 anymore!

Keep it to Yourself

2007-05-29T07:49:00.000-06:00

I’m a Christian and I write Christian songs. It’s a job that is often considered a ministry – not unlike Christian artists, pastors and other church staff. I know that my art is viewed, by many, as emerging from a narrow dogma rather than from honest, everyday life experiences. Because of that perception, we “professional believers” face an ongoing credibility crisis in regard to our work and its authenticity. I become increasingly aware of this reality every time a “secular” artist releases a song with spiritual overtones that impacts a world I will likely never reach with my overtly Christian message. Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus Take the Wheel,” Brooks & Dunn’s “Believe” and Rascal Flatts’ “He’s Not the Leaving Kind” readily come to mind. Because the Country fans don’t perceive the artists to be laden with an agenda, they receive these songs of faith as relevant extensions of who the performers are in real life. And they relate those experiences to their own lives.

My family is comprised of good, church-going people. They can probably quote the lyrics to each of the songs listed above - verbatim. I’m impressed. But when they ask me what songs I’ve had recent success with, they stare blankly when I answer. I tell them that I’ve had a couple of songs in the top 20 recently and still – more blank stares. I don’t get upset with them for not staying on top of the Southern Gospel charts, but once again, I realize how marginalized our little corner of the music market really is. My family doesn’t relate to the cheatin’/drinkin’ crowd, but apparently, when given the option of Pop/Rock, Country, or Southern Gospel music, they’ve chosen the genre that they most readily associate with and it ain’t Southern Gospel.

Are they turned off by us constantly “preaching to the choir,” or is our product simply sub-standard? Is Southern Gospel perceived as a novelty or a quaint relic from gentler days gone by? Does the “professional Christian” label handicap us? Are we so heavenly minded that we’re no earthly good? Whatever the reason for its lack of relevance, the reality that so few listen forces me to rethink it all. If we are called to be salt and light in a dark world, how do we best influence that world when we can’t even influence our church world? I have more questions than answers. All I really know is that I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable with the status quo. If I’m going to pour my life into writing songs, I’d like to know that someone is listening and maybe even touched by them. We can either “keep it real” or keep it to ourselves.

Ladder Day Saint

2007-05-24T09:34:00.000-06:00

I look at this every day. This small chair and ladder are on a bookcase in my office. I see more than 2 pieces of art. For me, they symbolize life itself. The ladder stands for work – climbing, striving, reaching, and achieving. The chair represents rest – letting go, repose, confidence, and trust. The ladder reminds me of the importance of diligence. The chair reminds me to be patient and to reflect. But beyond those more obvious symbolisms, the chair represents God’s grace and my faith. It reminds me to be still and know that He is God. It says that there is nothing I can do to gain God’s love for me, and nothing I can do to make Him love me any less. So take a load off. The ladder speaks of works and reminds me of the importance of “laboring in the vineyard,” but doing so with the knowledge that my toil will not get me one rung closer to heaven. I have them side-by-side on the shelf. They are both important for “faith without works is dead” (James 2:20) and, “…it is God who works in you to will and to act according to His good purpose” (Philippians 2:13). I wish I could say I completely grasp the balance of faith and works, but until I do, I’ll work a while and rest a while.

Puff Ditty

2007-05-22T22:31:00.000-06:00

I’ve been hearing lots of rumblings in the blogosphere about the lack of quality songwriting in Southern Gospel music. For the most part, I don’t disagree. It’s forced me to look at my own catalog of songs and question their depth. That’s a good thing to do from time to time. I’ve come to a conclusion based on my eating habits. I love a good steak as much as the next guy. I don’t eat them every night – thanks to NutriSystem. But when I do, I savor every bite. Of course I have to have some form of potatoes along side – the humble tuber compliments any meal. And a salad should certainly be a part of the dinner – with more dressing than salad. I can take or leave the bread and a bite or two of dessert with a cup of coffee suits me just fine. Other days I crave chilidogs and onion rings from Sonic – hence the NutriSystem!

So it occurred to me that a steady diet of any one thing gets boring. I wouldn’t appreciate that steak nearly as much if I had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I sometimes want lighter fare. Something I can just snack on while driving down the road.

I believe that’s the way music is. Some days you sit down and write a song of epic proportion that covers every theological base with a seven-fold “amen” on the end. Anyone who knows me knows I live to do that. Nothing is more satisfying than a huge power ballad that drives another nail in the coffin of doubt. I couldn’t be more pleased with 2 songs I have out there right now – “It’s All About the Blood” (Brian Free & Assurance) that I wrote with Tammy Dunaway, and “Once Upon a Cross” (Mark Trammel Trio) that I wrote with Gina Boe. I would consider those “steak” songs. On the other hand, Jerry Kelso and I wrote the title cut of Triumphant Quartet’s new project, “You Gotta Love It.” I would consider it a “puff pastry.” It’s light and airy and disappears in your mouth about the time you sink your teeth into it. But it’s so much fun and a tad addictive.

I don’t apologize for occasionally writing gospel-lite. My ratio of serious to "lite" leans heavily toward the serious, so I have to consciously make myself lighten up and write a SG ditty ever so often. My publisher begs for fast songs. BEGS….because the artists and producers are begging him. Apparently the fans expect to have fun at a concert – imagine that. I guess they like a tossed salad with their steak too. Anyone who's tried knows it's hard to write a meaty fast song. Seems to be an oxymoron – almost disrespectful of the lyrical content to sling profundities at a skip and a hop. So the best any of us can do with a ditty is get across one salient point and drive it home with a clever hook and bouncy music. Will these songs change the world? Maybe not. Will they make a concert or drive time more enjoyable? Most likely.

Blest Be the Thread That Binds (and rhymes)

2007-05-21T21:27:00.000-06:00

Once my family realized that this songwriting thing was, perhaps, a little more than a passing phase, I began getting calls from my younger brother with song ideas (I'm the bobblehead in the middle – he’s the baby). Before I could barely pick up the phone and say, “hello,” Ricky would break into full-throated song (when not in church, he prefers to sing like a mixture of George Jones and Johnny Paycheck) – so you can imagine what I suffered! He rarely had more than a line or 2 and, since he would get most of his ideas while driving his pickup, he had to call me and sing them to me while he still remembered what he had composed.

Ricky is the class clown. Every family has one, or should. He never fails to keep us all entertained at any gathering. But I knew that, for all his bravado, he really wanted to be taken serious for writing a great song. For years I kept hoping and wishing for a THREAD of a workable idea – I really wanted him to be a part of a song, but his offerings were consistently thread-bare. And because we are family he felt no hesitation in telling me I was crazy for passing on his latest/greatest. I let him down easy.

Well, you guessed it…finally he threw out an idea that had a bit of symmetry and sense to it and I paused, thought about it again, and said, “You know Ricky, that just might work.” He was, no doubt, shocked but acted cool about it and told me to work on it and get back to him. Twenty minutes later I had the chorus. I sang it to him over the phone and he loved it. We finally finished it - somewhere between Amory and Smithville, Mississippi - on the back of an envelope - riding in his pickup truck. My company demoed it and it got recorded on its first pitch. The name of the song is, “Three Rugged Crosses” and it’s on The Freemans new project, “Eyes on the Prize.” I’ve not heard the cut yet, but Daryl Freeman tells me it turned out great. Joyce Martin also heard it and loved it. Here’s the chorus:

Three rugged crosses
On one lonely hill
Two men were guilty
But Three men were killed
Three men were buried
And two men are still
Somewhere near those three rugged crosses
On one lonely hill

I can't tell you how happy it makes me to have my brother's first song already recorded. I’m sure Ricky is being fitted for a tux to wear to next year’s Dove Awards as I speak – hope springs eternal.

Check out The Freemans music at their website:
http://www.the-freemans.com/

Beyond The Call...

2007-05-18T20:56:00.000-06:00

My family are humble folk. If you read my Mothers Day tribute (“Steel Magnolias”), you know how much I love each of them. And you know that we just lost my aunt and my friend, Barbara Bryant. During her final days she was surrounded by so many family and friends. Their modest home in Okolona, Mississippi was like Grand Central Station – we have a big extended family and we tend to circle the wagons in times of trouble. People brought tons of food daily and the phone rang all the time. It was a bit overwhelming.

One afternoon – about 2 weeks before the struggle ended – the phone rang and my uncle Marvin answered. The voice on the other end said, “Marvin?” He said, “Yes…” The caller said, “This is Reba” – Marvin paused – quickly trying to figure out which of Barbara’s friends this Reba was….then she said, “Reba McEntire.” In his calm, southern gentlemanly way he responded, “well hey Reba, how are you?” She said that she had been following Barbara’s situation (through a mutual friend) and that she just wanted them to know that she was so sorry to hear about all that was going on, and that she was praying for them, and for their sons. Marvin thanked her for taking time out of her busy schedule to call.

What a decent thing for Reba to do. I liked her before. I love her now.

A Thorn Among Roses

2007-05-16T22:50:00.000-06:00

I’m a lucky man. Tomorrow I get to write with Gina Vera. She’s a soft-spoken pastor’s wife from Ohio with a huge voice and a wry wit.

She and I wrote “For the Love of Christ” (Chosen Few) “Tell it All” (Mike Bowling) “A Christmas Prayer” (The Hoppers) and one of my favorites songs that she recorded called “You Don’t Even Wanna Make Me Pray.” It’s a song to the devil and the chorus goes like this:

Step back – get behind me
I’m not the least bit afraid of you
I’m a child of God Almighty
And there ain’t nothing He can’t do
When I call on Him
He rushes in
He’s just one word away
I think it’s fair to warn you
You don’t even wanna make me pray

And if that wasn’t enough, later on I’m recording background vocals with Katie Peach of TK & McRae. She has the voice of an angel and a personality to match.

She and her husband Troy, along with J. P. Miller - formerly the group, First Love, recorded 3 of my songs and made them their first singles - "What a Day That Will Be," "That's When I Got Saved," and "Across the River." So I have a special place in my heart for the Peaches.

Some days this doesn’t feel like work.

For Such a Time as This

2007-05-16T07:39:00.000-06:00

I was patriotic when patriotic was cool….you remember, back in the glory days of The Moral Majority. I’m still patriotic today.

For six years I criss-crossed this country with The Life Action Singers performing “America, You’re Too Young to Die.” (that’s me – marching on the far right – how appropriate.) It was a splashy musical/multi-media extravaganza with a hard-hitting God-n-country message (hence the title.) It was the beginning of the Reagan era and the Christian right had just risen from its slumber – and much of the credit belonged to Dr. Jerry Falwell.

Prior to that time, we were convinced that politics was dirty and no place for Christians. Falwell taught us that politics was dirty because Christians weren’t involved. The salt needed to come out of the shaker, and Falwell was in the mood to shake things up. I had the pleasure of meeting the man on 2 occasions. I found him to be kind and soft-spoken - known for his practical jokes. Several of my closest friends worked on his staff. They had nothing but good to say about him. So why is that when you mention his name – even in Christian circles – you either duck or pucker?

I have more theories than I have time. He was controversial on many levels. Controversy is not a bad thing. There was a camera in his face for most of his life. If my every word was recorded for the next 20 years, you could probably build a case against me as well. And while we should always tell the TRUTH - we shouldn’t always TELL the truth. Pearls and swine come to mind. Did he ever go too far? Sure. He admitted it. Did the good outweigh the bad? I think so.

I really believe that in 2007 the church has an inferiority complex. We want to be loved by everyone. We don’t want to appear out-of-step with a “progressive,” modern society. Those whose highest virtue is that of tolerance, and those who find most of their heroes in the 90210 zip code must find it difficult to reconcile the words of our Savior. “you will be hated by all nations because of me” (Matthew 24:9).

Of Music & Motives

2007-05-15T07:21:00.000-06:00

I produced an album for a group of singing missionaries yesterday. They were some of the most gracious people I’ve ever worked with. Their talents were nominal, but their motives were pure and made up for what they lacked in musicality. Their only ambition was to make the good news known. These words from Scripture came to mind.

“But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty;” (I Corinthians 1:27)
“So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen” (Matthew 20:16)

It seems that God would rather hear a joyful noise than a self-serving symphony. I forget that. Not that we shouldn’t strive for excellence – the gospel is certainly deserving of such - “I will sing with the spirit, and I will sing with the understanding also.” (I Corinthians 14:15). But often we get one or the other. My job is to help with the “understanding” – making sure the music doesn’t detract from the message. But the preparation of the heart is a daily discipline that can’t be learned at a singing school.

Those who pursue a platform intrigue me. If we are faithful with the little things God places in our path, He will trust us with bigger things when the time comes. And if a ministry changes lives it needs no advertising. If it doesn’t change lives it isn’t WORTH advertising.

ProTools and AutoTune can make almost anyone sound decent, but ego can’t be fixed in the mix.

Steel Magnolias

2007-05-11T09:25:00.000-06:00

With Mothers Day approaching I want to honor the real "steel magnolias" in my life - my mother, my grandmothers and my aunts. So many are now gone. My great grandmother, Lucy Wilson Martin (seated in the center of the black and white photo - surrounded by her sisters) was a fiesty farm wife. Her legend lives on. Her daughter, Pauline (holding my mother) loved her family more than life itself, and we absolutely adored her. She left us just as the new millenium rang in. The recent photo, below, shows my mother on the far right along with my aunts. These are women of rare courage, character and conviction. If I have any compassion - any caring in my heart - I owe it to these ladies. I am so blessed to have them in my life.

A little over 4 weeks ago we said goodbye, for now, to my aunt Barbara (the blond in blue). She fought a brave battle with cancer and suffered more than any of us will ever imagine, but her spirit soared inspite of the the pain. That was, by far, the most difficult thing we've ever endured as a family. She and I shared a birthday. She was the baby of the family and only 13 years older than me. Her example in life, and in death, has changed me. Though shaken, these women of faith held our family, and each other together, in the strong Southern tradition that was passed on to them by a generation I won't let fade from our memory.

As I honor my mother this Mothers Day my heart goes out to my uncle Marvin and my cousins, Lamar and Brad Bryant. I can't imagine facing life without my mother.

This Mothers Day I sing the unsung heroes....those who've knocked on death's door to bring us into this world, and those who've passed through death's door to lead us to the next.

Notoriety & Anonymity

2007-05-10T09:10:00.000-06:00

An old friend from South Carolina called yesterday with big news. A lot had changed since we last talked 3 years ago. He said he was in town with one of his band mates, Chris Sligh of American Idol fame. Seems that my friend Don had insisted that Chris try out for A.I. and even drove him from Greenville to Birmingham for the audition. So now that Chris has new-found celebrity they are shopping for deals with all the Christian labels and making the rounds to explore their options. They wanted me to meet them for dinner so I agreed. One of my favorite restaurants, and a safe place for celebrities, is JAlexanders on West End.

I've hung out with a few of the "rich-n-famous" in my day....and for the most part, it's been uneventful. And because I've never really followed American Idol, I guess I underestimated the impact of that one show - but I soon realized that EVERYONE watches it. As soon as we walked in the door a man got up from his table and approached Chris with all sorts of questions. Chris was very polite. We moved to a lounge area while our table was being set up - talked about their meetings of the day - when suddenly a girl sitting a few chairs away just called out Chris' name and proceeded to comment on his singing and how much she loved him, etc., etc. He was gracious and acknowled her remarks. Then we were ushered to our table in the back of the restaurant. It was hilarious! As the 3 of us walked past table after table, people stopped in mid-chew and turned completely sideways - watching us parade past them. Of course, you really can't miss this guy - he's over 6' tall and that trademark hair is even bigger in person.

But all of that aside - we carried on with the usual small talk, laughing, joking and the rest. I tried to give him a "heads-up" on the Christian music industry, along with some "fatherly" advice (at my age they expect it!). I then asked about his songwriting and if he'd ever collaborated. He said he didn't like to collaborate. I asked if he had had a bad experience co-writing. He said he had. I suggested that maybe he should write with someone who was more experienced. He paused, looked thoughtfully away and said, "maybe if it was somebody like a TONY WOOD....I could write with him." I smiled. Then he said, "Now, WHAT is it that you do again...?"

I smiled and said, "you've gotta try the pork tenderloin - it's to die for!"

(check out Chris' band - Half Past Forever)
http://www.myspace.com/halfpastforeveredge

Welcome

2007-05-10T07:54:00.000-06:00

Welcome to my blog and my cyber soapbox. As a songwriter I search for the profound hidden within the "everyday," believing that all of life is a metaphor, and that really good stuff lies just beneath the surface.