Deejay

Deejay: (n) short for disc jockey

I wrote and performed Christian music.

This created a problem. Most of the small-town thinkers in my hometown village did not believe I was a Christian. For you see, my wife and I had a baby born before the allotted nine months after our marriage.

We were also kind of dead-beats.

Because we wanted to pursue music, we had turned our backs on normal employment, had become unpredictable and, shall we say, risky as potential renters or borrowers.

My little burg did not like me—and I didn’t like it much, either.

All day long, and most of the week, I heard people telling me that either I wasn’t talented enough to make it in music, or if I was going to make it in music, God could find me “on my job” and set it all in motion.

I just didn’t believe that.

This brought about a situation where I had very few friends, so it was necessary that I nurture each and every one of them.

An unexpected buddy was a deejay named Jim. He was one of the more popular personalities at the local Christian radio station, which did amazingly good business considering that it was religious.

Jim liked me.

I don’t know why—I was afraid to ask him.

More importantly, Jim liked me even when other people were around who didn’t like me. Occasionally these people would speak up, voicing their opinions about me in front of him (and also in front of me).

Jim always listened carefully.

He gave them full respect and attention.

And when they concluded their little speech by saying that “I wasn’t going to amount to anything,” he patted them on the shoulder and replied, “Won’t you be surprised if that’s not the way it works out?”

Usually the person shook his or her head and stomped off, convinced of my ultimate destruction.

Then one day, it just happened.

It’s one of those things you don’t plan for. (You should prepare for it, but you don’t.)

One of the most famous groups in America decided to record a song of mine. They not only decided—they did. Suddenly, my tune was being played on radio, all over America.

Jim’s radio, too.

On top of that, the notoriety I received for signing the song with this group opened doors for me to get a contract with my group, to record an album in Nashville.

Jim was my hero.

Of course, other people suddenly discovered that they didn’t hate me.

But the amazing part of the whole story is that when Jim saw other folks coming to my side and supporting me, he kind of drifted to the rear.

I wanted to ask him about it, but then it occurred to me that perhaps this was just Jim’s calling.

He found the person that nobody liked and offered love, hoping that the unloved soul would get a chance.

Jim was and still is my favorite deejay.

He seems to have a gift to say the right words as he plays the good tunes.

 

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