We drove from Knoxville this morning to Greenville, peeled ourselves from the Maxima’s seats, and drug ourselves into THE WALK studios.  The building houses a radio conglomerate which owns and operates five stations – everything from Top 40 and Rock to Talk and the unique THE WALK, a hybrid country/christian station.  The entire sale staff crammed into the swanky conference room to hear Michael and I play a couple songs each and talk about why we do what we do.

Not everyone on staff, behind the scenes, calls themselves “Christian” and few are familiar with this music by the same label.  This meeting/concert was arranged by the station manager in part to help them all, from those selling ad packages to the talent on-air, better understand why “Christian music” exists in the first place.  And that’s a good question.  One I debate with myself often.

One side has begun winning the debate recently.  I’ve come to realize that my being a Christian musician, a music maker whose tunes are “consumed” primarily by those who call themselves “Christian”, is not all that different than being a preacher.  No one shakes their head or finger at the preacher and asks,”Why do you only talk to Christians’?” But I point at myself from time to time and ask, “Why do you make ‘Christian music’?” Why do I do that?

A speaker who, because of his methodology or purpose or set of skills or message, pours the bulk of His words into Christian ears and minds is called a preacher.  A musician who spends his melodies and verse in the same way is, well, me.  I’m the same animal but with a guitar strapped to my middle.  This is who I am.  And I’m more and more OK with that with each trip I take and song I write.

But on mornings like today’s, worn out, torn throat, ready to see my wife and kids, even I, with all the mission statements and purposes stored in my brain, can begin to wonder in my heart why I do this.  Sometimes it seems like there’s no point and no progress beyond the entertainment of saints.

After the conference room concert at THE WALK the staff and I met contest winners at a local restaurant for a meet and greet, some amazing food, and another mini-show.  I was their prize.  They got ripped off if you ask me.

Then it was off to Columbia and a show at Columbia International University, an event sponsored by WMHK.  Afterward a herd of folks gathered around me outside to talk and get autographs (weird).  After almost an hour of meeting new friendly people and thanking them for coming out to the show a woman stepped forward, stuck out her hand and began to cry.  I held her hand in mine and asked if she was OK.

She tearfully told me about her husband Collin who was coming home soon from Iraq.  He’s been there thirteen months and has lost fourteen of his soldiers in that time.  But before their lives were taken he’d played every man under his command my song Welcome Home.  He tried to prepare them for the possibility of death and urge them to get their house in order.

And while the nightmare of each man’s life spilling out onto the battlefield while in his charge will replay in his mind for the rest of his life, he now takes solace in knowing he told them about his faith in Jesus and the peace it brings to the foxhole and the family back home.  And he used my words to do it.

Yea, that’s why I do this.  And that’s why I’ll get up tomorrow and travel once again from Columbia, SC to Greensboro, NC.  I’ll post more then.

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