Rebel for God

by Eddie DeGarmo

  Ok, maybe that was a little over the top and too confident for an answer. I asked him a second question. “Where do you see yourself performing your music?”

  He said, “Really just in clubs, music venues, and that sort of thing. I don’t want to play in churches or just for the Christian crowd.”

  I have met with many artists with a similar mission. They want to reach the broader world with their music. I understand that, appreciate it, and believe it is a high and lofty ambition.

  I then asked him, “What’s your mission?”

  He had a very puzzled look on his face and looked back at me after a moment and said, “Mission. I don’t have a mission. I just play guitar.”

  “Hmmmmm,” I grunted. “You know a mission is not optional if you know Christ. You have to have one. That’s the way it works down here on earth and what we are commanded to do.”

  He replied, “Well, I’m not going to sell out and play worship music if that’s what you mean.”

  That was an emotionally loaded response from him for sure. Not that it didn’t have meaning—it’s just not what I meant to imply at all. It’s interesting that is what he heard from what I said.

  I clarified my statement to him. I explained, “Both playing worship music and rock ‘n’ roll music for that matter in bars can be a career, but can also be a mission. One’s mission could be simply to bring light into the darkness. But, we have to have a mission.”

  I then encouraged him to think on that awhile. It’s the deal.

  * * *

  One of my favorite writers and speakers is Andy Stanley from Atlanta. He wrote a book a few years back titled The Principle of the Path. Andy has a way of talking about very profound subject matter and explaining it in basic, easy to understand terms. In his book, he lays out the simple argument that if you start out on a particular path in life, you shouldn’t be surprised at where you end up. For example, if you buy things beyond your means on credit cards, you shouldn’t be surprised when you have trouble paying the bills. Or, if you choose a path with little regard for education, don’t be surprised if the only job you can find is unskilled labor. He goes through countless examples such as these in the book. I would highly recommend it for someone seeking his or her calling and career.

  Also, Andy points out, it’s amazing how much emphasis and pressure family and society place on young people to decide what their career will be with little focus on deciding who they are going to be as their foundation. It’s vitally important to decide who you are going to be long before you decide what you are going to do. “Who you are going to be” will rule out a lot of confusion and unanswered questions regarding what you are going to do. An extreme example would be if you were to ponder a career on the wrong side of the law. Hopefully, deciding “Who you are going to be” first would rule out a bunch of that kind of stuff!

  Sometimes it’s not so clear what we should decide about a career. There are definitely degrees of separation when dealing with the outside world, our involvement, and participation in secular pursuits in general. One of the decisions our band made early on was that before every concert we would get together, study the Bible, and pray. As the years went by, this was a place where Dana excelled. He attended a small but very good and reputable Bible college in Memphis and came out the other side of it quite the knowledgeable and gifted teacher. Most of the time, Dana chose to lead our Bible studies. Now mind you, Dana was strong-willed. He could be about as stubborn as a mule. He was also very passionate about what he felt was right or wrong. I loved that about him. One particular Bible study Dana decided to go off on a tirade about Don Henley of the Eagles. Dana was a huge fan of Don’s talent and music but couldn’t reconcile in his mind some songs he wrote and recorded on his first solo album. Don Henley’s song “Building the Perfect Beast” sent Dana over the edge. In our Bible study, he decided it was too worldly for any good Christian to support Don Henley from then on.

  He said, “In fact, I don’t think any of us should support anything his record label, Geffen Records, releases or what their distributor sells either for that matter.” They were all tied together in Dana’s mind in an evil conspiracy to infect the minds of young people.

  If it sounds like I’m making light of it, I don’t mean to. Just bear with me a minute. I asked Dana in front of our band and crew at the Bible study if it was true that on occasion he enjoyed drinking a beer?

  He said, “Yes, you know I do.”

  Then I asked him if he could feel good about owning a bar that sold and served alcohol.

  Dana replied, “No, for me I couldn’t do that in good conscience.”

  Then I asked him if he still owned a small amount of stock in the Holiday Inn Corporation.

  He looked at me sternly and said, “Yes.”

  “Well, you own a lot of bars then, ‘cause a lot of their motels have one.”

  He grumbled, “That’s not the same thing!”

  “It’s exactly the same thing,” I said back.

  The point of this exchange was not to embarrass Dana, even though I’m sure I did that a little bit from time to time. We worked that part through later. My point was to illustrate how difficult it is for our lives to be totally free of, and separated from, the influence and elements we might find to be negative or worldly. This is certainly not new to people of faith. In extreme cases some have chosen to be monks and live in monasteries completely removed from the secular world. Every individual has to choose for himself where his personal line is. It’s pretty easy for each of us to find something we don’t agree with in everything from being a United States citizen to working at a convenience store and at all points in between. I still drive on the same roads used by both ambulances to save someone and criminals to conduct illicit activity. The intent comes from the user, not the road itself. Some people have been critical of me working in the entertainment industry. I understand that. I just try to make a difference with what is actually within my sphere of influence.

  All Christians, or anyone for that matter, should carefully ponder these questions as they decide how they will function in the world, including what their career will be and where it might take them. Remember, “Wise men seek the counsel of many.”

  When we launched DeGarmo and Key in the seventies all the band members were bi-vocational. We had to take on other jobs to support our mission. My father was a contractor. He built houses and I grew up being around all that sort of stuff. My dad taught me a little bit about every phase of homebuilding; pouring concrete, carpentry, painting, plumbing, and even some electrical work. So, it was fairly easy for me to make some extra money through handy work between our gigs.

  On one such occasion I signed a contract to provide all the painting on a new and rather large health clinic being set up in a refurbished antebellum home on the outskirts of downtown Memphis. It was to be called “The Tennessee Clinic for Reproductive Health.” I didn’t know what that meant until I was about halfway done with the job. I never saw or heard of one of those places before. It turned out it was a place where women terminated unwanted pregnancies; more commonly known as an abortion clinic. Being personally strongly pro-life, I was aghast I was participating in the building of an abortion clinic. I struggled with it for a few days, but decided in the end I made a commitment and signed an agreement to do the work. I went and spoke to the lady in charge, explained my personal challenge to her, but assured her I would honor my commitment and complete the work to her satisfaction. I believe my attitude was a positive witness of Christ to her.

  My point in telling this story is it’s not uncommon for us at times to find ourselves in compromising situations in our careers where our faith and the secular world collide. I’m not suggesting we actively seek out collisions, but they do happen along the way. How we handle them is important to us and to those watching us.

  One Bible verse I don’t hear about too often, but has always meant a lot to me, is Philippians 4:22. Paul writes, “All God’s people here send
you greetings, especially those who belong to Caesar’s household.” This is not necessarily an overly popular verse we hear recited often, but it is enlightening to me. At the time of Paul’s writing, Nero was Caesar in Rome. He was known for his hedonist debauchery and total brutality toward humanity—especially the Christians of the time. He crucified many people and lined the streets with them. Yet he had Christians working in his household. That’s obvious according to Paul’s words.

  History tells us they weren’t all slaves at that time, either. Some were freed men working of their own volition. I believe many of us find ourselves in Caesar’s household from time to time in our careers. I certainly did. When we do, I think we should try to make the best of it and be a shining light of God’s grace for all to see. It’s never easy, though, is it?

  NINE

  Love Is All You Need

  Susan and I were married on October 21, 1973. She likes to say our first baby girl was born nine months and fifteen minutes later. I say it was really nine months and five minutes! Wow! As I have looked back and laughed about our wedding day and how we sent our families into shock about it, I’m pretty sure everyone must have thought Susan was pregnant, but that wasn’t the case. That’s because we decided on Friday to get married on the following Sunday. Also, we were both at the mature age of nineteen. Yikes! We were just head over heels in love. That was it. During our first year of marriage, we saw many things that brought enormous change to our lives. The central, earth-shaking event, of course, was having a baby. I was still nineteen when our daughter was born. Susan had just turned twenty. I recall when I got home that day and heard the news for the first time. Susan said she had something very important to share with me.

  “Eddie,” she whispered, “I went to my doctor today. I’m pregnant.” She studied my face, looking for a reaction. She had no idea how I would respond to the news.

  My first reaction was shock; like the kind of shock that hits you when someone throws a plugged-in hair dryer into the tub while you’re taking a bath. But very quickly shock turned into beaming pride. Susan and I decided immediately we should thank God and pray about what to do next.

  Again, rebels without a clue. I was only working part time while going to college. She was working part time as well. We didn’t have any money. Susan came over to my easy chair and sat in my lap while we prayed. Just as we said “amen” the phone rang. I answered and my friend Greg was on the line. Greg was a fellow I met while living with Dana in our one room apartment in midtown Memphis. We went down to Overton Square one night to share our faith with those coming in and out of the rock clubs there. I shared my faith with Greg and we prayed together sitting on a bench. He dedicated his life to Christ that night.

  “Eddie, this is Greg,” he said. “I’ve been working as a maintenance manager at a large apartment complex and we need to hire a couple of guys. I know you know some stuff about fixing things. Are you interested? Job pays $3.25 a hour.”

  In 1973, $3.25 per hour was a dang good job. My calculator brain quickly added that up—$130 a week. My gosh! We hit the jackpot.

  I immediately said, “Yes!”

  God took care of us again. It was a miracle. We both had to do a lot of growing up during that time. I finally had to drop out of college to take the full time maintenance job at the apartment complex to pay the bills. Susan worked as long as she could, right up until the baby was born. We were just kids trying to figure life out. But when our baby girl was born I was so proud of her—and her momma. She was the first girl born into the DeGarmo family in a long, long while and was very special to all of us. I was beside myself, acting like the completely smitten papa.

  The band went into a holding pattern after we got married. As I mentioned, both my parents were entrepreneurs, so that way of thinking came easily to me. I rose through the ranks at the apartment job pretty quickly, becoming a supervisor in no time at all. I think that may have been because so many others on the crew kept quitting. Even though it was challenging to take care of hundreds of apartments, my upbringing gave me an edge. In addition to that entrepreneurial spirit, I learned to fix most anything on a house or commercial building. It drove me crazy as a teen when my dad made me work for him on the weekends building houses before I’d head out for gigs with the band on a Friday or Saturday night. That’s the busiest times for bands. I hated construction work in high school and didn’t like it much better as a young adult, but I sure am glad I knew something about it.

  After a couple of years at that work, I started a contracting business of my own. I focused on painting at first and then expanded into other areas of remodeling and construction. I had one other fellow working with me and we built the company up pretty quickly.

  Early on I learned a huge part of any successful business is simply being dependable and doing what you said you would do. It’s amazing the results those simple disciplines can produce. The phone was ringing. We landed a contract with the county to re-furbish several HUD homes vacated for one reason or another. It was good work, to be sure, but it was also really nasty work. Several of the homes were repossessed or abandoned. One had the very sad story of being the site of a grisly murder-suicide in the family room. We were hired to re-do the house and I found myself cleaning up blood spatters and removing pieces of human skull from the ceiling where some poor soul fired a shotgun into his mouth.

  The job definitely paid the bills, but I was completely miserable doing it. I have needed to apologize to Susan more than once for being a miserable sourpuss and for being so down in the dumps during those days. I was definitely one of those people who “wondered what happened” to me.

  In my mind, I was going about my merry way when God up and saved me. So, I quit my band, got married, dropped out of college, had a baby, and was working a job I hated with a passion. Where had my dreams gone? Up in smoke! I prayed for answers, but God seemed totally silent on the subject. I felt trapped by my responsibilities. I was supposed to be a rock star—right? Instead, I found myself working a grungy day job I despised just to get by.

  I couldn’t see a way out and blamed God for it. I was angry, bitter and really, very short-sighted. Truth be known; I was just plain old stupid. I was in turmoil and made sure everyone around me knew it. My poor unfortunate wife suffered the brunt of my self-absorbed attitude. I couldn’t deal with my defeat and took it out emotionally on anyone in earshot. I knew God called me to play music for him, but I couldn’t see a way past my dilemma; a dilemma I created for myself. I still had an immense amount of growing up to do. God was just getting started with me.

  Construction workers tend to rise quite early in the morning. That’s pretty much the antithesis of playing in a rock band. I set my clock for 5:30 and was on the job by seven in the morning. There was one particular morning late in 1975 I will never forget. I woke up to get myself ready, swung my legs out of bed to the floor, and rose from the bed to step down the hallway to the bathroom, only to fall flat on my face. My right leg went out from under me and wouldn’t support my weight. Susan immediately awoke and asked me what happened. I didn’t know. I just fell down. As I tried to regain my footing and stand, excruciating pain radiated all through my lower extremities. I couldn’t stand up straight to save my life. Susan immediately got up to help me, but all I could do was roll back into the bed.

  Needless to say, we called and set up an appointment with my family doctor. This was the same guy I saw growing up. He gave me my first shot as a kid and fixed the arm I broke playing football. I knew him pretty well. Fortunately, his office was just down the street and he agreed to see me that afternoon. Susan arranged for my mother to come babysit our little girl so she could drive me to see the doctor. After Dr. Parrott’s examination he came to a judgment fairly quickly about what had likely happened to me.

  “How did you hurt your back?” he asked.

  I had no idea what he was talking about. I have pondered that question for more than forty years and I still don’t really know the answer
. Maybe the injury was the result of lifting a Hammond B3 and all that band gear around. I did that enough times, and it all weighs a ton. Maybe it was putting a 220-volt, heavy air conditioner in a window all by myself. Those things were beasts. Seems I remember doing that a time or two. Maybe I hurt myself working construction. Maybe it was simply the hand of God. I’ll never know for sure, I guess, until I get to the other side.

  Anyway, the good doctor explained my back was in bad shape. I was suffering from compression of my spine and discs around the various nerves going into my legs. I was twenty-one years old. He ordered me to bed rest and began to set appointments for me to visit various specialists. This was in the dark ages of back surgery in the mid-seventies, and none of the doctors wanted to perform that on me, especially because I was so young. They ordered me to complete bed rest for three months before they would make any decision.

  What a weird time that was. Susan was awesome and took care of me every day. I got pretty out there, though, on pain meds and living inside my depressive state of mind. There was a popular show on TV called Ironsides starring Raymond Burr. He played a detective bound to a wheelchair because of paralysis. I watched that show’s reruns religiously every night because I was sure that was to be my fate as well. To that fact, the doctors told us my chances of paralysis were 60 percent if they had to resort to surgery because it was so intricate and so easy for them to make a mistake. I had more tests, and they said the discs in my spine looked like someone squirted a tube of toothpaste inside my back.

  Over those three months our money ran clean out. We were dead broke. My mother and dad were great to be there for us when they could. My mother also encouraged me to seek out public assistance. She said, “Eddie, that’s what we pay taxes for.”

  She was dead right, but that was very difficult for me to face. I was raised and always taught to pull myself up by my own bootstraps. That was the American way. I timidly called the Memphis public assistance office and explained our situation in great detail. They sent a nice lady by to visit us soon after and to personally assess our situation.