Dreams Can Come True

Back in 2009, Kristie had a dream. She was finding small amounts of money everywhere, in different denominations and currencies. At first the amount seemed small, but as she gathered it together she realized it was significant.

Around that same time, I had a dream. In it I was pulling coins out of an old couch. I was finding them everywhere. Fifty-cent pieces, quarters, even Canadian Loonies and Toonies (those are $1 and $2 coins, for my non-Canadian friends). I started by finding a little, and as I gathered them together I remember feeling like the amount was becoming something substantial, something that we could really use.

Three years later in 2012, Kristie quit her job to focus on being a full-time mother. Her income was the only steady source of funds we'd earned as a couple, and it was with a certain amount of both fear and faith that we decided to press on, passing the full responsibility of income-earning to me.

The thing is, we were broke. We'd always been broke. We'd relied heavily on credit cards to help us in between dry spells where I didn't make anything, and we'd never developed a plan to pay them off. We'd never had anything happen to encourage the idea that we would someday be free of that particular financial burden.

Feeling the pressure of being a "provider," I started taking real estate courses. I also started a musical side-project called "Vocal Few" with Kristie, in order to help alleviate some of the expenses of having a child.

Kristie and I were no strangers to financial "hardship." We were married without much more than a few hundred bucks to our name. With Kristie's citizenship status in limbo early on she couldn't legally work, so she came on tour and sold our merchandise. It wasn't glamorous. 


We lived in a van on the road with The Classic Crime together, the six of us sleeping in truck stops and Wal Mart parking lots. In between tours we were often homeless, so we slept on a mattress topper on the floors of some of our generous friends and family. We were perfectly trained in the ways of "making-do," so as we prepared to have a baby, we prepared to experience more hardship.

I studied real estate, met with brokers, and planned my entry into the workforce. I was prepared to give up music as a source of income. It simply wasn't enough to sustain myself, let alone a family. I was going to get a real job. Something seemed appealing about that. I took shifts at a catering company, washed dishes, and set up buffets for weddings, parties, and corporate events. I liked getting my hands dirty and working behind the scenes. It was gratifying. It felt like I was doing something that directly helped my family. Music isn't like that. It sells or it doesn't, and often the hours spent on it don't pay off like you need them to. I was used to the disappointment of the music business, so I was happy to take a paycheck in relation to the exact hours I spent working.

Meanwhile, Vocal Few started to sell. We were floored by the response. It was my first independent release in 7 years, and I was shocked to discover the percentage of money that actually came back to us. Small opportunities for licensing came in, they started to add up to some real "bill paying money." Because of the writing and recording of "She'll Be Right," I was offered some contracts to write music for commercials. The income I earned from that really helped us pay down our debt.

Inspired by Vocal Few's independent release, we decided that The Classic Crime should attempt it. We ended up raising almost 300% of our goal on our Kickstarter campaign, and subsequently I became extremely busy producing, mixing, marketing, and performing publicist and A&R duties for the release. It was a six month job, but it was some of the most gratifying work I've ever done in music.

Money started coming in from so many different places, and most of it wasn't a lot on it's own, but when you added it up we were able to pay our bills. Not only that, we were able to completely pay off all the debt we'd accrued over our seven years of marriage.

I ended up not being able to complete the real estate course. I was 80 hours into a 90 hour course, and I kept pushing it back until I couldn't push it back anymore. Eventually, my time to complete it had expired.

Somehow, after being on the verge of giving up music completely, I was swamped with music projects. Paying projects... the rare kind. We went from having two incomes (one being very steady), a load of debt, and no kids, to one income, a child, and no debt. 

What was seemingly impossible back in 2009 had come true, and it was around mid-2012 that we remembered our dreams from three years prior. We were filled with gratitude to God for His faithfulness. We apologized for our lack of faith, our questioning and fear and doubt. We didn't know why it happened, or how exactly, but we knew who orchestrated it.

Let me start by saying that I know we didn't deserve this blessing. However, I'd be careless not to say that I strongly believe that when we give our money in faith, when we tithe or give it towards a charitable cause, especially when it hurts, that it pleases God to take care of us. 

The times when we've been the most worried about money have been the times where we've been the most selfish with it. It just so happens that when we give more, it seems like we're taken care of more, not only financially but it feels like our souls are more at peace. And the funny thing is, we're still just living month to month. We're not guaranteed that it will work out. That's the fun part of faith.

I also learned that I am not the Provider. I do the work He gives me to do. I am comforted by the words of Jesus in Matthew 6:26...

"Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?"

Kristie and I feel a little like these birds.

As I write this I'm facing what looks to be an inability to pay the rent next month. Something happened where some money that I was relying on fell through, and now God only knows what the future holds. We're hoping that Vocal Few's new Tall Trees EP sells well, but the truth is there is no guarantee that it will pay our bills for the next few months. Somehow, we're still at peace. After these last couple years, we're starting to feel foolish when the fear and doubt creep in. We know better.

Our lifestyle has caused us to pray a lot more, be more generous and walk by faith, not by sight. For that, we are grateful. We've also been given incredible perspective for the things that matter in life. We've been investing more in our community and in our family, but don't think for a second we have it all figured out. We're still making plenty of mistakes. We're still deeply flawed people, regardless of our attempts to try to find the right way to do things. It is often that I fail to do what I should.

It's funny how when things are going good we can easily ignore the words of Jesus, and when things are going poorly we desperately seek the comfort of those same words. I hope that someday we can find comfort in those words no matter what our situation is, and that in all things we can have gratitude for what God has done and how he continues to care for us.

I read the other day that if you have $10 in your pocket and no debt, you're already wealthier than 25% of Americans. What an incredible perspective-enhancer that stat is! 

We are not desperate by any means, but we also cannot place our faith in anything other than God to help us. The projects can present themselves, or they wont, the random paychecks might show up, or they wont. We've done the work, and will continue to do it as it presents itself, but ultimately we are not in control of the money that comes in.

I shamefully admit that sometimes, when it gets scary, I ask God if I'm really supposed to do music in this capacity, but as soon as the words form on my tongue I hear the answer. I tried to do the "provider" thing. I tried to give music up, and He opened so many doors to so many opportunities that I couldn't. He buried me in more opportunities in one year than the seven years prior to it. My answer was given in the work that was placed before me. Maybe that answer will change in time, and maybe someday I'll have to do the "responsible" thing and secure a stable income. For now, I try to be as diligent as I can on this music path I've been led down, even though I have no idea where my next paycheck is coming from. The truth is, I cannot rely on myself to pay the bills.

And as scary as that may sound, it's actually quite nice.


 
 

An Interview with Andrew Schwab

This is a little different.

My friend Andrew writes a blog for men on Patheos called "The Tin Soldiers." He also has written a book under that title. 

He interviewed me for his blog and the results can be found HERE.

I hope you enjoy our words,

Matt

A Little Bit More

The quest for relative happiness never leads to truth.

We know this, right? Even Hollywood tells us, movie script after movie script, that money and the accumulation of stuff cannot bring us happiness. Every rom-com tells us that love is all you need. Even the Beatles told us that. But we didn't listen.

Many of us live our lives looking toward some brighter day, when we finally get that job, or that salary, that car, house, wife, or family. That one thing we want that will finally make us happy. And what happens when you get it? Ask a millionaire. All of the honest ones will tell you there is no happiness to be found in money, that a bigger sum just means a bigger burden, more stress, more anxiety. Like the great Biggie Smalls once said, "Mo' money, mo' problems."

We know this. We've heard it a million times. The quest for material things ends in sadness... So why do we still look at so-and-so's job, car, house, body, style, life and crave it like it's the antidote?

The quest for relative happiness never leads to truth. Key word is "relative." It means, "in relation to." In relation to this person, I'm happy, or not happy, or good, or not as good. It's comparative, but even more (and worse) it's competitive. 

Oil baron John D. Rockefeller was once asked by a reporter how much money is enough, "Just a little bit more," he replied.


Point being, there is never enough.

So you've quested for relative happiness. You've finally made a million. You're in the 1%, which means you're comparatively richer that 99% of Americans. Here is when you cash in, right? You live on the interest, right? You go do full-time charity work and live a meaningful life, right?

Wrong. Your quest for relative happiness has trained and defined you. You are now innately competitive. You cannot settle with "enough" because compared to so-and-so, you don't stack up. You tell yourself, "Just one more deal, just a few more years, just when my savings hits this number."

Just a little bit more...

We know this, right? How many movies and songs and books have been written about how money can't buy us happiness? How much have we learned about how the accumulation of stuff has the opposite desired effect?

Yet we still clamor and scrape and justify our motives. It's all a bunch of silliness.

We know this, but we look forward to that next thing that will bring us happiness. That fantasy that will fulfill us.

The problem with fantasies is that they change your perspective on reality. You can't be happy with the tangible present because the expectations in your head are unrealistic. Now you're perpetually sad. Life is disappointing. It didn't turn out like the fantasy. That next big thing didn't bring happiness. How depressing. Keeping up with the Jones' did not bring happiness. The quest for relative happiness did not get us closer to meaning or truth or peace. And we act surprised, but we shouldn't.

Because we knew this, right?

The thing is, if you actually know this, like if you actually take it to heart, you're already richer than a million millionaires. You have the thing they desperately want. The thing they're all clamoring for.

Taking it to heart means living in the present. It means giving yourself to the people you love and loving the people you don't. It means putting others above yourself. It means doing generous work. It means being generous with your time. It means not competing for more stuff, and not being concerned with the comparative material wealth of your neighbor.

This is how Jesus said to live. He said things like, "Love your neighbor," and "Turn the other cheek," and "Go the extra mile," and "Blessed are the poor," and "Love your enemy." 

He turned the world on it's head with that kind of talk, but you know what? It's a better way to live. It actually creates deep and real contentment, and that's a good enough reason for me to try to follow it.

Role-Playing and Creativity

OK. Bare with me, it's been awhile. Shaking some rust off... so here goes...

I'm comfortable playing the rebel. That's my role. I'm often a motivated, vocal contrarian to popular opinions. I don't mind speaking up. I don't take anything at face value... I figure out where I stand for myself, and once I have I won't hesitate to explain why. I'm blunt and honest and even though I'm highly sensitive to what others are feeling, I still struggle with being tender.

I was born and raised in the middle of a big family. When I was younger I acted out. I don't know exactly why (I had a decent upbringing), but I was a bit of a problem child. I always seemed to get in fights at school, and I was a magnet for bullies. I was always in conflict with some student or teacher or principal. In elementary school, I spent many hours in the principals office (She used to stare at me for minutes without blinking, like a psychopath. It wasn't helpful). Every Thursday in fifth grade I had to spend one period with the school counselor to talk about how life is a road and there are "speed bumps" in it. I remember feeling like a victim, like nobody understood that I was actually the good guy. I didn't feel like I could trust the "establishment" to understand me. Maybe I acted out for attention. Maybe I didn't get enough at home, in a big family, where others needs were prioritized over mine. What I did back then could have been easily labeled by any decent child psychologist... but I'm still that kid. Even without those subconscious desires to get attention (Part of me loathes direct attention, just please say nice things behind my back), I still thrive on being counter-culture. I have been trained to be comfortable doing what the rest don't. I am playing a role.

Much of us get caught up in Role-Playing. I might've been the Black Sheep, but you might be the Nerd, Bully, Jock, Skater, Hipster, Goofball, Good Girl, Scapegoat, Slut, Stoner, whatever... maybe my terms are out of date, but you get what I'm saying. 

The thing about playing a role is that it perpetuates it's own existence. The more you "nerd it up" in the library, the more you desire to be a super nerd. The more you play sports on a team, the more you want to be team captain. The more gold stars you get for being good, the more you want to be the valedictorian. The more I got in trouble, the more I got in trouble. You're partially motivated by peer-coach-teacher-validation of your role, but you're also motivated simply because people see you as that role, and your world seems to make sense when you act according to how they see you.

The roles in families are the hardest roles to break. You might think you're an adult, and then you go home for Christmas and realize you're acting like a 15-year-old, and the same things that annoyed you about your family twenty years ago still do. The thing is, everyone HAS changed, hang out with them one on one and you'll see that, but you get that family culture back together and people start reverting to their old roles. We can't help it, we've been primed our whole lives to act in that role, it's a hard one to shake (i.e. parents trying to parent their adult children).

I think I lucked out in High School because my role was more of an attitude role than a cultural role. It didn't dictate what group I spent my time with. I hung with the nerds in the library, I collected comic books and played online games, I also was a state athlete, voted "most artistic" and I was in advanced science and english classes. What's hilarious is I was even selected and trained to be a "Peer Mediator." I prided myself in not caring while still performing. I was arrogant, but it didn't end up working out (See blog post "One Small Story of Regret").

So there was something positive about my role. It allowed me to get some different experiences, to be a bit of a chameleon and, because of my competitive nature, try to excel and a number of things. I think my role might have been good for me.

The problem of roles is that they are pervasive and hard to escape. The question is, "Can Role-Playing be used for good?"

Scientists for years have done studies on "priming," and things like it, to conclude that how you see yourself greatly effects your overall performance. It is apparently true that if you embrace a role, you will become better suited for it... that it's not all the subconscious at work. When you are intentional about being something, you are more likely to be it (by a huge percentage), than those who simply fall into it.

We tend to think of roles as strict boundaries. We say things like "not everyone" and "I can't" because it's more comfortable to believe that we are limited to our roles.  Seth Godin argues that everyone is a creator and has the ability to create something. He talks about the idea of generosity, and that anytime you create something with some level of generosity, you are an artist. That means when you do work that matters, that is brave and generous and helpful to society, you are creating art. Your work is unique to anyone else's. It's the alternative to being a cog in the machine, which is fine if you are fine with it, but Godin gives permission to all people unsatisfied with their roles to awaken their inner artist and create something beautiful. He tells people who desire MORE to be intentional about BEING an artist, to embrace their roles and get rid of those excuses and comparisons. 

Godin has inspired millions with his books, because people have realized that the idea of viewing themselves as purveyors of "more" has helped them create more and do more, resulting in more good for more people and a better, more fulfilling life for themselves. Positive thinking FTW.

For the last decade or so, I've played the vocational role of artist (or musician, or songwriter), or whatever you want to call it. But I haven't always embraced it. I kind of fell into it, and I'd say for the first half of my twenties I was confused about how to BE it. I think my motivations were off... because I had a lot of jealousy and pride and bitterness about the way things were going. I was also trying to play the role of Rock Star or Tortured Musician or Cool Guy with an exceptional lifestyle. Now, at almost thirty years of age, I think I've settled down a bit. I'm a Husband, I'm a Dad, I'm a Provider, I'm a Small Business Owner, but very intentionally, I'm a Creator...

This tends to flow well with my view of life in general. I mean, I believe we were all created with some basic characteristics of our Creator. We have the ability, unlike the other animals, to create much like our Creator does. We can build boats and roads and cities and cars and make music and art and architecture and love. We are mini-creators.

When I embrace the role of Creator, that role given to me by my Creator, I suddenly and without question become more creative. There is also responsibility that comes with it. It requires doing the work. Embracing any role requires action to be proven. I have to sit in my basement and make cohesive sounding noises for hours on end... that's what is required of my role, the role I choose to play. My previous role as Rebel or my future role as Old Guy matter very little when I embrace the role I want to play. I'm kind of sad I wasted time on those false-rolls in my early twenties, the one's that lacked generosity and were self-absorbed (mostly, Cool Guy).

I have not yet arrived, and the more I learn, the more I realize how behind I am. I wish I'd been more diligent in my youth. My Rebel-role made me waste so much time, but perhaps it was all needed to get me to this point. 

So, if you feel restless and unfulfilled and you're one of those folks who can take good advice to heart (i.e. NOT like me), then ask yourself this cliche-yet-important question: Will you be brave and generous and intentionally embrace your Creator role?