It's All About Him (20 page)

WE STOPPED FOR LUNCH, CHANGED INTO OUR WATERPROOF JUMP-SUITS IN THE REST-ROOM, AND CAME OUT LOOKING LIKE NINJAS.

All was well until the rain began. At first it just drizzled, but then the clouds rolled in, and a heavy, cold, drenching downpour settled down on the Northeast, centered right above our car. We stopped for lunch, changed into our waterproof jump-suits in the restroom, and came out looking like ninjas.

As the rain continued, I became less and less tolerant of my husband's beloved hobby. The little windshield had wipers, but I had to use a chamois every other minute to wipe down the inside of the windshield so Alan could see. At first I squeezed it outside the car, but then I realized it really didn't matter. Our little blue Cobra was filling up like a leaky rowboat.

Then my jumpsuit decided to stop being waterproof. Like the car, it began to gradually fill with rainwater. I felt like I was sitting in a wet diaper. For hours. My hair was plastered to my cold head, I could not feel my fingers, and by the time we finally pulled up to our lodging for that evening, I was so cold I could barely speak.

When we went inside, I was absolutely flabbergasted to discover that
everyone else
in the entire rally had given up because of the rain. They had skipped the meandering, scenic route and had come directly to the hotel many hours earlier. They were warm and dry, sitting by a roaring fire. Alan and I—who both looked like refugees from Waterworld—were the only participants who had driven the entire route for the day—without any cover!

Furious, I rushed into the hotel room, stripped off my sopping suit, and stood in the hot shower for about an hour. By the time I emerged, pink and gently wrinkled like a prune, I was actually able to be civil to my husband again.

At the end of the week, after the thousandth mile, the rally people had a big closing banquet. As awards were handed out, Alan and I were surprised when our names were called. “And to Alan and Denise Jackson,” the emcee said, “we present the Good Sport Award, for staying out in the rain and not giving up when everyone else did!”

Everyone laughed, and I stood up. “Thank you so much,” I said. “I'd just like to add that car rallies are not my usual thing; I did this for my husband. And I want you all to know that I will be receiving a very large piece of jewelry from Big Al when I get home!”

I was kidding, of course, and everyone roared with laughter. It was a light moment . . . but when I thought about it later, I realized that crazy road rally was in some ways a picture of what God had allowed Alan and me to do in our marriage. It had been tough and uncomfortable, but we hadn't bailed out. We had stuck together. We were both determined enough—or maybe I should say stubborn enough—to stay the course.

And by God's grace, we plan to finish the race!

Chapter 21
WHAT REALLY MATTERS

Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below

Did you burst out in pride
For the red white and blue
The heroes who died just doing what they do
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself to what really matters

I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love

Alan Jackson,
“Where Were You? (When the World Stopped Turning)”

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see
face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully,
even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:12–13

O
n the morning of September 11, 2001, Alan was at home. I was at my Tuesday morning Bible study. The children were at school. When I heard the news, I rushed home, and like everyone else in the country, Alan and I stood in front of the television, our hands over our mouths, tears in our eyes.

A few weeks after that terrible day, Alan woke in the middle of the night. The melody and a few lines of a song were running through his mind. He crept downstairs to his office and sang into his little hand-held voice recorder, worried that if he waited until morning, he'd forget it all. Then he came upstairs and quietly slipped back into bed, not realizing that what he had just recorded would touch so many who were suffering from the 9/11 tragedies.

The next morning he finished writing the song. It was called “Where Were You? (When the World Stopped Turning),” and it eventually went to the top of not just the country charts, but the general market and pop genres as well. It struck a chord. As
USA Weekend
later reported, “The No. 1 success of ‘Where Were You?', which captures a myriad of reactions to the terrorist attacks, has elevated Jackson to a new plateau of fame. People who had never before listened to country music bought his 2.5 million-selling ‘Drive' album and came home to the core values of God, country and family that the genre has typically embraced.”
¹

For his part, Alan said that he didn't really create the lyrics for “Where Were You?” “God wrote it,” he said later. “I just held the pencil.”
²
In some ways Alan is a very complicated person. In other ways, as his song says, he's just a singer of simple songs. His simplicity nailed what many people felt about September 11. It touched many for whom the attacks were not only a horrible catastrophe, but also a wake-up call about what really matters in this life.

IN SOME WAYS ALAN IS A VERY COMPLICATED PERSON. IN OTHER WAYS, AS HIS SONG SAYS, HE'S JUST A SINGER OF SIMPLE SONGS. HIS SIMPLICITY NAILED WHAT MANY PEOPLE FELT ABOUT SEPTEMBER 11.

The terrorist assaults pierced the hearts of people across America and around the world. They brought everything to a halt for a while. They sifted out unessential things that so often clamor for our attention. They highlighted what was truly important.

God's Story,My Story

Even disasters or losses on a far, far smaller scale than 9/11 can stop us in our tracks. When we sit by the deathbed of a loved one, we cherish our relationship as never before. When Alan's daddy had an aortic aneurysm about six months before September 11, Alan sat helplessly by his hospital bedside. Daddy Gene was bleeding internally, and Alan's heart broke as he watched his father take his last breath, even as his once-strong heartbeat slowed and stopped for good. Alan had realized in a new way just how gentle and decent his daddy had been . . . and he had resolved to be more like him.

And for me, when my brother took his own life, it was like a knife cutting through the clutter in my heart and the complacent comfort of my lifestyle. I began to think about God, faith, and eternity in new ways. When the break came in my marriage to Alan, it woke me up to fundamental changes that I needed to make in my relationship with God.

Recently I read a book by a Christian counselor named Dan Allender. He says some wild things about tragedy and crisis, things that make sense when I think about how God has worked in my life. “The tragedies of life, small and large, carve contours in our character that draw us to a different way of living, one that God intends to both use and transform.”
³
God is writing a story in our lives, Dr. Allender says. Our lives aren't just random, unconnected collections of scenes without meaning. They have purpose, and as we become more and more tuned in to who God is, we can actually participate with Him in the way our story turns out. We can have peace in the plot's strange twists and turns. We can be free from fear of the bad guys. We can shine with God's love and draw other people to see God's good story in their own lives.

Many of us have chapters that we would prefer had never been written. There are sections of my story that I used to wish I could delete like a computer file. One quick click of the mouse and those chapters would be gone. I just wanted to keep the cheerful parts.

But now I'm beginning to learn that the hard chapters show God's power in a way that the happy ones do not. Brokenness moves my story forward in a way that peaceful times do not. It's in difficulties that I became desperate to really know God, to cry out to Him.

BROKENNESS MOVES MY STORY FORWARD IN A WAY THAT PEACEFUL TIMES DO NOT. IT'S IN DIFFICULTIES THAT I BECAME DESPERATE TO REALLY KNOW GOD, TO CRY OUT TO HIM.

As Dan Allender says, we only learn to accept and love our story “to the degree that we see the glory that seeps through our most significant shattering. To see that glory, we must enter into and read our tragedies with confidence that they will end better than we could ever imagine.”
⁴

When everything is going well, we often can't hear God, because the music all around us is turned up too loud. But when the party stops—in those moments of crashing pain, sorrow, and sudden silence—we begin to hear His voice. I've learned that if I listen and lean on His strength, He can help me climb out of the wreckage. As I do, I have new perspectives about what is precious and what is truly important.

Singing with Upright Hearts

The older I get, the more I also see how this pattern of brokenness and restoration reflects the big picture of God's great story.

The Gospel is all about God coming to earth as a real human being. Jesus walked on dusty roads.He laughed and went on picnics. He felt weakness and pain. In the end, He was tortured and executed. In human myths, people are sacrificed for gods . . . but in Christianity, God gave Himself for His people.And out of that ultimate weakness—that “most significant shattering”—came the glory of resurrection. Because Christ's story on earth ended in triumph, we have the assurance that ours will end well, too, if we know Him.

God's story is far stronger than the nicest fairy tales we know. As I've seen in my own life, it unfolds over time, weaving together strands of joy, sorrow, friends' prayers, and God's mysterious will.

In 2002, CMT (Country Music Television) filmed an hour-long Christmas special featuring Alan's new CD,
Let It Be Christmas
. It was a great opportunity for him to promote the CD, but it also gave him a chance to showcase what he had come to realize really matters, particularly after September 11. The show celebrated family, faith, and the great story of Christmas.

The special received lots of positive feedback, and so the network has continued to reair it, year after year. Several Christmases after it was first broadcast, Bobbie Wolgemuth flipped on her TV. Robert and Bobbie had moved to another state, and we'd lost touch with them awhile after Alan and I had renewed our vows. The Wolgemuths hadn't really known how we were doing in terms of recommitment to God and each other. Now they watched this crazy Christmas special and got an insight into what had been going on in the Jackson household.

Wearing a bright red jacket and his trademark Stetson cowboy hat, Alan sang “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” while Ali and Dani, both dressed in sparkling red elf costumes, danced with a few friends from Ali's dance class. Mattie read the account of the first Christmas from the Gospel of Luke as a guitarist played a beautiful introduction to “Silent Night.” The cameras zoomed in on our mothers, who were smiling and clapping with the audience. And at the end of the show, our entire family came onto the stage, our arms around one another, and sang the sweet words to the Christmas song Alan had written for his album:

Let it be Christmas everywhere
Let heavenly music fill the air
Let every heart sing, let every bell ring
The story of hope and joy and peace
And let it be Christmas everywhere
Let heavenly music fill the air
Let anger and fear and hate disappear
Let there be love that lasts through the year . . .

Watching the broadcast, Bobbie shook her head in wonder. The words from just one of the many prayers she had prayed for us and written in her prayer journal—four years earlier— popped into her mind.

“I pray that Alan will write songs of victory,” she had written back in 1998. “And that You would surround his family with deliverance and Your abiding love. May they rejoice in the Lord and be glad! May they sing with upright hearts!”

And there we were, courtesy of Bobbie's TV screen. We weren't perfect, but we were upright, rejoicing in the Lord and being glad. And we were singing with all our hearts. Bobbie could tell that her prayer for us had been answered. She could see that God was continuing to unfold His great story—the story, as Alan's song put it, of “hope and joy and peace,” and “love that lasts through the years”—in our lives.