I’ve
had something of a love-hate relationship with contemporary Christian music
over the last decade or so. Done well, it inspires the listener to draw closer
to God and to be an example of Christ-like behavior to the rest of the world.
Done poorly, it gives the listener a warm, fuzzy feeling but inspires no real
change. While I’ve largely stopped following Christian music because of what I
see as an overabundance of that second type of music, there are a number of
artists who exemplify the first type, and I continue to hold them in high
regard. The foremost of these is Rich Mullins, and today, on the twentieth
anniversary of his untimely death, I wanted to take some time to reflect on his
life, his legacy, and, of course, his music.
While
largely unknown outside Christian circles, Rich Mullins is known to millions of
believers as the writer and singer of such praise and worship standards as
“Awesome God,” “Step By Step,” and “I See You.” Yet that brief summary doesn’t
even begin to describe the man behind those classic songs. He was an
accomplished multi-instrumentalist – a talented acoustic guitarist, an
excellent pianist, and a superb hammered dulcimer player. His music was
eclectic, fusing Appalachian and Celtic influences with lush orchestral strings
and (then-contemporary) late 80s and early 90s keyboards and guitars. Most
importantly, his lyrics were - and still are - head and shoulders above everyone
else’s. The narrator of a Rich Mullins song might be childlike and whimsical
(“Boy Like Me/Man Like You”), folksy and humorous (“Screen Door”), heartbreakingly lonely
(“We Are Not As Strong As We Think We Are,” “Hard To Get”), pensive and
enigmatic (“Jacob and 2 Women”), or completely awestruck at the beauty of
creation (“Calling Out Your Name”). The common threads running through all of
his songs are a deep understanding of theology and the Bible, a poet's way with words, and, above all else, a
complete and unconditional love for God.
Rich
was a fascinating figure outside his music, as well. In contrast to many of his
well-dressed, well-groomed contemporaries, he was famous for wearing a white
V-neck T-shirt, ripped jeans, and no shoes to his concerts. Those closest to
him have acknowledged that he had his faults – he smoked and drank,
was prone to borrowing things and not returning them, and could get downright
nasty when confronted with something that offended his sense of morality. Yet
he was also generous and caring to an almost radical degree – he was a vocal champion of
Compassion International, donated nearly all of his considerable income to
various churches and charities, and spent the last few years of his life in
obscurity, teaching music to children on a Navajo reservation. Rich was a known
admirer of St. Francis of Assisi (even going so far as to write a musical about
him and to found a semi-monastic community called the Kid Brothers of St.
Frank), and that great saint’s spirit of voluntary poverty and concern for the
downtrodden was a driving force in his life.
I
encourage everyone reading this to block out an hour and listen to Rich’s 1993
masterpiece, A Liturgy, A Legacy, and a
Ragamuffin Band. I’ve listened to it so many times I’ve lost count, and it
still never fails to inspire me. I’ve marveled at the vivid, beautiful imagery
of “Here in America” and “The Color Green.” I’ve acknowledged my own faults and
thrown myself on the mercy of God while “Hold Me Jesus” ran through my head.
I’ve heard the old, familiar words of the Apostles’ Creed take on new life in “Creed.”
I’ve smiled at the wry humor and sublime insights of “Hard” and “You Gotta Get
Up (Christmas Morning),” and nodded at the social commentary of his cover of
Mark Heard’s “How to Grow Up Big and Strong.” And I’ve recognized in an instant
the America Rich describes in “Land of My Sojourn” – how much I’ve come to love
it, and how I’ll never belong there. It’s a near-perfect album, and a perfect
encapsulation of Rich Mullins’ music and faith.
Unlike many people who have written about Rich, I never got to meet him or experience him personally. I was only six years old when he died, and I only seriously started listening to him about a year ago. All I can say is that his example inspires me, and that I truly am a better person for having heard his story and his songs.
Further reading:
Kid
Brothers of St. Frank official website:
“I Miss Rich Mullins,” by Mark A. Hollingsworth
“Beaten
Up and Carried Home: Remembering Rich Mullins,” by Andrew Peterson
