My Rich Mullins Story

This whole blogging thing is a bit unnerving… I have no idea who is reading, or when, and feel a bit silly for posting into the void. But post I will, because it makes me happy. I was at a Rich Mullins concert years ago, and heard him explain why he wrote songs. He said it wasn’t because he had something new to say, since it had all been said before, and it wasn’t because he thought he had anything better to offer. He wrote his music because he couldn’t help himself, and it brought him joy to praise his Maker. I agree – writing just brings me joy.

I heard Rich Mullins make his comments at what turned out to be one of his last concerts. The story of how I came to be there that night still fills me with awe and gratitude. Our family had just moved to Delaware from Texas. We were broke trying to cover mortgages in 2 states, and I was home alone with 5 sons, 3 dogs, 9 cats, and no car in a strange new place while my husband worked long hours 50 miles away. To be more precise, it was “no fun.”

Things became even more stressful when some long buried personal issues surfaced. I was emotionally shattered and overwhelmed, and clinging to my sanity. God bless my dear husband, who saw that his wife was at the end of her rope, and praise God for providing the perfect reminder of His love and presence in the tiniest details of my life!

I never had a sense of ‘home’, or roots, having lived only 3 weeks in the state where I was born and then continuing to move around frequently all my life. The home we were renting at the time was the 24th place I had lived, and at that point I really needed stability. I knew the name of the town where I was born, but that was it. I didn’t even have a birth certificate.

It will come as no surprise to my faithful readers that those details were not a problem for the Lord. I felt compelled to track down my birth certificate, and get the address of where I was born. Then I learned that Rich Mullins was going to be performing in that same small town, on my birthday. That may not seem a big deal to you, but Rich Mullins was the first Christian songwriter I ever heard, and remains my all-time favorite.

Somehow my husband pulled together the money to put me on a plane to Indiana, buy me a ticket to the concert, and reserve a room for me at a local hotel. He also set up a rental car, though the address I had for where I was born didn’t show up on any maps. I arrived on the afternoon of my birthday, just a few hours before the concert at a local church. I had hoped to see my first home, but even a call to the city hall didn’t find the location of the street.

I decided that the concert alone was going to be such a blessing that finding the house was too much to ask for. My husband had even arranged for a birthday banner to be hung in my room, reminding me that he was with me in his thoughts. It was with that overwhelming feeling of being loved and cared for that I walked into the church and sat down next to a friendly looking young woman. Before the concert started and during intermission I told her about the amazing blessing of being in my hometown on my birthday for the concert. She told me she had lived all her life there, and eventually asked me the street name. When I told her, she got a strange look in her eye and asked me if I was kidding. I assured her not, and showed her the birth certificate.

You have probably guessed what happened next. The street where my family once lived was only one short block long, a sort of connector between 2 other marked roads. My companion at the concert lived on that small street, across from my parents’ former home. She told me it wasn’t on any maps, that there was a street sign but only the postal service used the street name.

I drove back to my hotel after arranging to meet her the next morning at the house, laughing and crying with thanks and thinking how impossibly perfect the day had been. But God wasn’t finished yet – when I got out of my car and approached the hotel lobby, Rich Mullins and his band mates were standing at the door. I couldn’t help myself; I gushed and made a fool of myself telling him how the Lord had brought me there and led me to my first home. I know he though I was crazy, and when I told him I had 5 sons he understood why!

Standing in front of the house the next day was almost anticlimactic, because the miracle was in the journey. I thought the destination was the point, but God made it clear to me that He is with me in every step, no matter where it leads. Rich died in a car accident just a few weeks after that concert, and I was blessed to work though my grief by helping to assemble a memorial book for his family. I was grateful that even in the midst of my pain, God was leading and healing me in the broken places.

Treasure those moments when God reveals himself to you – He delights in doing miracles!