Missing Rich

His music career began in 1983 when Amy Grant recorded his song, "Sing Your Praise to the Lord".

He went on to create nine original albums.

In 1995, after the seventh album, he took off to go to an Indian Reservation in Arizona to teach music to children.

He always performed barefoot. That was his way.

He was greatly impacted by "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning, and his band was "The Ragamuffin Band."

He had a simple faith, a simple life.

His passion and his calling from God was music. Creating it, singing it, teaching it, sharing it, all for His glory alone. I once heard that he was reluctant in the early days to record his own music because he had such a rough voice, but then felt that God's name would be praised and who was he not to be a part of that. So he sang.

He was so humble, such a servant and very uncomfortable in any kind of spotlight. I heard a story that he was at an awards dinner and after only being there a few minutes, he was spotted in a waiter's jacket serving dinner and drinks to all of the attendees.

He wasn't flashy, not all that good-looking. Wore everyday, unremarkable clothes, just to be covered and comfortable. He was natural.

He wrote an article for Release magazine for six years. They introduced his column like this: "He's a poet, a scholar, a gentleman, and yes, just a little bit off-center. But that's why we like him..."

He was very profound.

"The will of man will not ultimately prevail against the will of God. It is the will of God that we should know Him as He has revealed Himself and that will has not only survived the arrogant attacks of scientific and "enlightened" men, it has (even more miraculously) thrived in spite of our best intended, though sadly misguided, attempts at "rightly dividing" that seamless robe of revelation.

So let us press on with no faith in our own understanding and nothing but faithe in the Truth that is too great to be diminished by our feeble minds and too great to not transform us."

And here's another: "When we were kids we sang for the joy of singing, we colored and cut and pasted for the fun of doing it. We ran for the love of running and laughed and got scared and saw the world as a real place full of real dangers and real beauty and real rights and wrongs.

And if the cross is more than a symbol (and it is), and grace is more than sentiment (and, thank God, it is), if Jesus Christ is really God's revelation of Himself and not the product of human imagination (and He is), then we will become the children we once were and must become again. Stables will be temples, stars will be guarantees, 'the trees of the fields will clap their hands and the mountains and the hills will break forth in singing...' We will pray and run and work and give ourselves over to faith. And God will be our Father and His Kingdom will be our home, for we will be those children we once were, and 'of such is the Kingdom of Heaven'."

His songs moved me. They still do. "The stuff of Earth competes for the allegiance/I owe only to the Giver of all good things. So if I stand let me stand on the promise/ that You will pull me through/ and if I can't, let me fall on the grace/ that first brought me to You./ And if I sing let me sing for the joy/ that has born in me these songs./ and if I weep let it be as a man/ who is longing for his home." ("If I Stand" on Winds of Heaven, Stuff of Earth)

I had the opportunity to meet him once. He was so humble and unassuming. Some of my friends asked him to sign their tapes (yep, it was looooong ago, kids) and he signed each one simply, "Be His".

I admired him so much. His simplicity, his ease, his way of communicating. His way of highlighting the things in the world that point to Him. He was amazing, as were his songs. Truly inspired, I believe.

He died ten years ago on September 19. He was 41.

I heard the news and wept. There were four memorial services held in his honor. One in Nashville, one in Wichita (where he lived for many years), one on the reservation in Arizona, and one at Compassion International Headquarters. I had my own little memorial service, too.

The words to one of his later songs, "Elijah" still make me tear up. "When I leave I wanna go out like Elijah/ with the whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire./ and when I look back on the stars/ well, it'll be like a candle light in Central Park./ and it won't break my heart/ to say goodbye."

I still miss him. I still listen to his music and delight to hear it on the radio (sometimes KSBJ playing ancient music is a good thing!).

I look forward to meeting him again.

P.S. I found a great little story about him here.

And this one is an absolute classic. Rich and his band doing "Screen Door" (a great song in it's own right) a capella using cups for rythym. Ya gotta see it!