Don't Want To Be Famous....anymore.

As I sat in my living room, only the sound of air conditioning buzzing through the walls and a comfy pillow to lean on, I sat down with my guitar and began to hum a random noise from the back of my throat.

...I could sense a song ensuing.

Over the past 6 years, a lot of people have asked me where the ability to write music comes from. I can answer with complete honesty that its just a gift from God. Plain and simple. I usually respond to that question with, "Its God--I just happen to be in the room."

I don't say this in an ambiguous, super-religious way as others may. I say this with total awareness that my talents are not my own. They belong to Jesus. They don't belong to me to market, exploit, or receive self-seeking praise from people. They are a gift, of which I am humbled to have been given.

And talent is not a mystery. Its simply evidence of a creative God, who likes to express himself through his very own creation, by continuing the cycle of creativity. Talents are really simple if you let them be.

I can attest to many years not fully understanding the beauty of being given the talent of music---of worship. I've always been able to sing. My earliest memories are sitting at the foot of a platform, watching my family sing and play music in God's house. My family is full of musicians, artists, and creators. I remember my Dad putting me on his lap and showing me the different instruments that they played on a worship team. He would humor me by letting me sit in during practice and "play" the instruments along with them. Sometimes I'd sit on the floor next to the drummer with a couple of pencils as my drumsticks and bang on my lap as my drum set. Other times I'd stand near the bassist and copy his rhythmic head-bobbing and "stank face" expression. I remember sitting next to my dad at the piano and watch him lead everyone in worship and stare at his fingers in complete wonder. The way they moved magically across every key, creating the most wonderful sounds....mesmerizing.

You see, my dad never knew how to read music, but he could write songs that were so beautiful. And he could sing to the Lord with such amazing passion--it was unlike anything I had ever seen. My grandmother often reminisces with me about my earliest years. When asked the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" my answer was always " I want to sing in God's house." I remember many times, all under the age of 7 years old, being encouraged by my dad to sing for the church. He would have me pick out a song and I'd sing in service. He always encouraged the gift. Always nurtured, always praised. Its because of my father that I had a passion for music and for worship.

During my teen years, the need for guidance and attention, mixed with the need for approval of every kind by everyone, quickly made way for my passion of worship to slowly become a passion for applause. I joined the school choir and eventually the theater company through a random audition that I had heard about in class one day. That one audition soon opened a door to a whole other world:

The stage.

Oh, that stage knew how to sing just sweetly enough to seduce me into the throws of passionate, life-breathing theatre. And yes. When you are a big-headed, American goon you spell 'theater' with British snobbery and change the 'er' to 're'. THE-A-TRE. (I imagine you pronouncing this to yourself in a Shakespearean accent and a dainty hand gesture.)

Now, don't misunderstand. The recognition, self-gratification, and adoring 9th grader fans weren't the only reason why I loved performing. The fancy makeup, costumes, and the pretending to be anyone but myself was also a huge plus. For two hours, I got to live in a make-believe world, where I could think, talk, and act like someone else. And I got to walk away at the end of the night being doted on by various audience members for my "breathtaking" and "leave em in tears" performances. There was also something strangely fulfilling about auditioning and getting a role that everyone wanted and getting the big stamp of approval that came with it saying, "YES, Jordan! They like you! They really like you!"

Maybe what compelled me was the desperate need to know that I had what it took? Or maybe the need to prove that I had what it took? Maybe a little bit of both. All I know is that the adrenaline rush faded rather quickly once my senior year in high school came around. I practically had my bags packed, ready to move to New York and follow my life-long dream of Broadway and the bright lights, when the afterglow of the stage somehow disappeared and I was left realizing that the audience only liked who I pretended to be--not who I really was.

To the insecure and unwise, fame seemed to be a one-way ticket to happiness for many of the kids I performed with. Sadly, it still is for some of them. But before I graduated high school, I had a first hand glimpse of what seeking fame and the spotlight would bring you by watching other friends "make it" in the entertainment business. I have concluded these are one of three things:

Lots of insecurity. Lots of instability. Lots of alcohol.

I remember one day, I was sitting in the costume room in the theater department, rummaging for an outfit for a pending performance, when I was hit with immense sadness. I didn't want to put on a dress and pretend to be anyone else anymore. I wanted to be me. I didn't want to sing for applause. I didn't want to be a performing monkey. I didn't care that I was the president of the Thespian troupe at school and I definitely didn't care who cared that I didn't care. I just didn't care! It was all meaningless entertainment. It was all so...empty?

So I sat there, staring at the costumes and began to ask myself,

"Is this it? Is this all there is?

If it is, then why do I feel so empty?

Why doesn't this make me happy anymore??

What is my purpose in life?!?!?!

What am I going to do?!!?!?!?!??!!?!?!!"



All of a sudden a huge wave of revelation hit me, and, in an instant, shattered my world of plastic emotions. As the tears fell, I began to think, for the first time, that all these years of striving and trying to prove myself were all for a waste. Every audition, every day long rehearsal, every time I let my grades purposely slip because I "wouldn't need college, anyway" were all for nothing. But before even an ounce of mourning set it and before I could even look up into the sky and scream in misdirected blame, I heard a voice speak clearly and tenderly to my heart:

"You were created to worship."

Wow. I remember my reaction not being surprised or taken back by this. I calmly closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled in childlike remembrance saying to myself,

"Yes. Yes I was."

From that day forward, my entire life changed. I graduated feeling a little directionless, but nonetheless content with my decision to pursue God again and not my own created version of success. I just kept trusting that wherever I was supposed to go in this big world and whatever I was supposed to do with my life, it would all be directed by God's leading. I just needed to trust.

So flash forward a year or so and I was doing music again, just this time in a local church. It was almost like re-learning a language, I have to admit. I had become so accustom to performing that to be handed a microphone, put on a platform, and told to sing for people was a real learning experience. Everything around me looked familiar but was the exact opposite of all that I had grown accustom to. However, through trial and error, I immediately re-learned that music God's way is entirely different than the world's, and there is no way of intermixing them both. You either sing for His glory, or you sing for your own.

One thing is for sure: there is no room for performance, especially when it comes to worship. In fact, playing music and worshiping God can't even be put in the same category. They are completely separate and have nothing in common. Playing music can evoke emotion and passion, but the heat of the Holy Spirit lighting your heart on fire is something completely different. Sure, playing music can evoke happiness and joy, but the joy that comes from the Lord brings wholeness and is lasting. Playing music can give goosebumps and bring someone to tears, but worship is what will cleanse their soul of contaminating thoughts, emotions, and torment. Worshiping God is what lifts you up from your dark place.

Worship isn't a pretty melody that leaves you with shackles still on your feet.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that through the last 5 years, God has been drawing me deeper and deeper into what I was created for, which is worship. I believe we were all created to worship. But those who were marked and detailed with the talent of music were meant to lead others, and not just with their songs, but with their lives.

So I guess, from starting out as that elementary kid who would stare at the contorted faces of worship leaders and think they were constipated because of their intense and focused expressions, to now being a semi-adult and having elementary kids looking at me that way, it is wild to look back and see how far I've come.

And it is all because of His wonderful, undeserved, and immaculate grace.

I Like This Story...

Here we are again, folks. I have nothing interesting to write to you, but I do want to post this amazing story about this guy who went through a six year wait for the one that God told him that he would marry. Its amazing, inspiring, and just so so so special. ;)

Enjoy!

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"A Nice Story For You"

by Steven Foster

When I was about 10 yrs old, I went to NY city for a weekend (from Cleveland, OH) and we visited a small church. We joined their church group for the day to visit the Statue of Liberty, and some other sites. When we got into a group for a photo, I noticed a little girl on the opposite side, who was bundled up just as I was, because it must have been late fall. After I saw her, I thought to myself-this is going to be my wife. (I was saved and had a very strong relationship with the Lord)

We left NY and went back home to Cleveland. I prayed that God would let me have her for a wife when the time came. I also felt that it was His will. From the first time I saw her and the first time I prayed; I didn't even have a doubt in my mind. I still didn't know her name or even if I would even recognize her out of a lineup, since I only saw part of her face and never even heard her voice, but God gave me assurance about the matter.

Soon after this; our church became affiliated with this church in NY, and the two churches would plan summer activities for the youth, and the churches. (Don't know the details of how this worked.)

About two years later, our church along with some others, planned a gathering and I was very interested in seeing if I was going to have my future bride show up. I was looking around the cafeteria really confused; when I noticed a little girl across the table from staring into my eyes. Sure enough it was her; but, she was way too pretty for me. I was one of the oddest looking kids, and I never thought I would be able to get anyone to like me. (Was small, skinny, way too mature for my age, hung out with old people, large broken glasses with only one side hanging to my ears, and dressed like it was still 1959. Even my cousins and my brother made fun of me. And for my serious love for the Lord-they would call me little Jesus. Which I didn't mind.)

Very shortly I found out she wasn't looking into my eyes but rather looking at my odd looking glasses. She spoke to me very nicely (she was very talkative) and asked me some questions. I found out a little later that she liked a boy and was very serious about him. (We were 12) Well, the boy wasn't me; it was someone from her school, which was no surprise to me. But I thought to myself-she must not yet be saved, because if she was; God would have told her who her husband is going to be-ME.

That was the extent of our conversation. All the boys circled her, but I thought to myself-"they just don't know." I was never worried or jealous, but just trusted in the Lord. After this trip, I did wonder if I will ever hit a growth spurt and if my looks will improve a bit; I wanted her to one day be very happy and comfortable with my looks, and be happy, and like the person God gives her- all around.

Well, some time passed again-about a year that I saw her again (13). She had changed so much, and I was about the same. I remember that she was already hanging out with some older kids, some even had cars. I didn't get to speak with her much during this time; but she was already my wife, except she didn't know it. I didn't have to spend time with her, or even talk to her to reassure me-because God was already doing that. Ever since I saw her for the first time, I had probably prayed for her almost everyday. I always prayed for her salvation and her physical well being.

I saw her once more about a year later, (we were about 14) and I got to talk to her for about two minutes; and she told me that she has a serious boyfriend, and he is 16. She seemed like she was real popular with everyone, and she was much like a young woman. I can't say I was really happy that she was dating a cool 16 year old-but I knew that the God who measured out the Universe with the span of His hand, had everything under control.

After this last time that I saw her; and the next time I would see her again, about 2 years passed. I was nearly 16, and we were actually going to move to the deep south, which would mean that these visits would stop. There were also other changes in my life that I would like to mention. Back when I was about 6 years old, an eye doctor told my mom that I would most likely loose my eyesight by the age of 14. I have to say that through the years, my parents would take me to change the lens in my glasses about two times a year for my eyes were getting gradually worse. It was two weeks before my 14th birthday, the last week of school, and I was sitting in class looking at the board when I noticed that I was having a hard time seeing again. Just like many times before. (It was probably time to change my glasses again.) By the end of the day I was getting light headed, and as I got home I couldn’t wait to take off my glasses and just close my eyes. When I took my glasses off I noticed that I could see everything just perfectly. GOD HAD HEALED MY EYES.

During the two years that I did not see her; my eyes had been healed. Not only that but I grew about 9 inches in the 2 yrs and put on about 50 pounds. I kid you not; I became a super athlete, with amazing strength and speed, my voice changed and I would have been unrecognizable to most people who didn't see me every six months, let alone two years. And yes, most girls would have wanted to date me if I weren't so serious. (I became what some called, eye candy.) It was an interesting two years, but I was still as serious as before. I was fascinated by my changes, but not overcome by them.

So, right before my sixteenth birthday our youth group and the youth group of the church she attended, went to a youth conference held in another city. I had not seen her the first day that we were there, but the second night we went to eat pizza and there she sat facing me with her two friends about 3 or 4 tables down. I sat with one of my cousins, and with as many girls that could fit at the table. (Most of these girls who sat down didn't even recognize me from years past, and thought I was someone who they never met before-so they were all eager to talk with me.)

I noticed that my future bride was feeling sad, and I would occasionally see her lay her head on her friend. I had no idea what was going on, but I was praying for her. I wanted to go over to say something but I just wasn't sure what to tell her. There were too many people around her, and even though between God and I, she was my wife- I just didn’t know what I was going to say.

A few minutes of this and someone came to our table and started chatting with me. After a couple of minutes he asked me if I would go outside for a minute. I said sure, and as we walked towards the door, I noticed that my bride was no longer at her table either. I was a bit nervous because even though I prayed about her; I just wasn't sure if would say the right things.

Sure enough as I stepped out the door, there she was with her friend. I stopped about two steps away from her and looked straight into her eyes- and couldn't say a single word. We just stared at each other, and I was just fine with that. Than her friend said-"well, aren't you going to say anything to her!" The first thing I said, was for her and the guy who asked me to come outside to leave. After they went inside, she just broke down and started crying- as I was still just staring at her. The first thing she told me was that she gave her heart to Christ about six months ago. Then she told me that she couldn't stop thinking about me for the last six months, and that she believes that God wants her to become my bride one day! The girl who could talk to anyone, had a really hard time talking to me. (We were both just before our 16th B-days.)

My response to that was, "I am not surprised!" As conceited as that sounded, I told her that I have been praying for her for about six years, and I knew she was my gift from God. As you could imagine, she was very happy, and shocked at the same time.

After that night we shared addresses, and we decided that we would write, and wait for further instruction from God. I moved to the South that summer, so I didn't see her much for the next four years, until when we got married at the age of 20.

Those four years were not as hard to bear as many would think. God's peace was with us, and He was with us. He was and is the centerpiece of our lives. When my friends would ask me; what does she looked like; I couldn't even describe her. I wasn't sure how tall she was, or any of her physical features, because I only remembered her eyes. Not even the color of her eyes; but what I saw in them.

God has blessed our marriage, and our lives. We have four children; and are serving the Lord to this day!!

God Bless!!!

-Steven Fanto

None Lost. All Saved.

I have been reading Beth Moore's devotional on the Apostle John. I came to a really beautiful, thought-provoking chapter that I find to be so moving that I want to spend the next few moments rewriting her words in my blog. This is so others can read and be challenged with the story, but more so that I can let these words seep into my heart and never put limits on the amount of mercy I should extend to people or how much effort I should put into bringing them back into the arms of Jesus.



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"STRAYING LAMBS"

by Beth Moore

My favorite account from the early church fathers concerning John was preserved by Clement. It begins with the statement, "Listen to a story which is not a story but a true tradition of John the Apostle preserved in memory."

While visiting a new bishop and his congregation in Smyrna, John "saw a young man of strong body, beautiful appearance, and warm heart. 'I commend this man to you,' John said, 'with all diligence in the face of the church, and with Christ as my witness."

John returned to Ephesus and, as promised, the bishop took the young man under his wing and baptized him. Time passed, and the bishop "relaxed his great care and watchfulness. . . . but some idle and dissolute youths, familiar with evil, corrupted him in his premature freedom." Before long, the young man had given himself entirely to a life of sin, committed crimes, and even renounced his salvation. Eventually John was summoned back to Smyrna and asked for a report of the young man. Somewhat taken aback, the bishop answered, "He has died"--meaning he had abandoned his faith.

John replied,"Well, it was a fine guardian whom I left for the soul of our brother. But let me have a horse, and someone to show me the way." When the elderly John found the young man, he started to flee. John called out to him, "Why do you run away from me, child, your own father, unarmed and old? Pity me, child, do not fear me! You have still hope of life. I will account to Christ for you. If it must be, I will willingly suffer your death, as the Lord suffered for us; for your life, I will give my own. Stay, believe; Christ sent me."

The young man wept bitterly, embraced the old man, and pleaded for forgiveness. The account says that John led the young man back and "baptized him a second time in his tears. . . . he brought him to the church, he prayed with many supplications, he joined with him in the struggle of continuous fasting, he worked on his mind by various addresses and did not leave him, so they say, until he restored him to the church, and thus gave a great example of true repentance and a great testimony of regeneration, the trophy of a visible resurrection." Truly, John practiced what he preached.