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--
Growing Up --
Life has been anything but dull. Things did start off pretty
normal though. My three brothers and I all grew up in a very
typical middle-class home in a quaint community where Mom
proudly served as the official neighborhood Kool-Aid mom.
Dinner was always ready when Dad got in from work and we were
expected to eat it when Mom put it on the table. There was
lots of order in the Bishop home.
I
am the second oldest of the four Bishop boys. I am less than
a year younger than my older brother, and just over ten years
older than my youngest brother. For seven years, from the
time the other middle brother came along until the youngest
was born, I played the part of the frustrated middle brother
very well. I always made sure that Mom and Dad understood
it was no picnic being somewhere in between. I probably made
the situation a bit worse than it actually was.
I
was not exceptional at anything in school. Most everyone else
was more athletic than I was. Even Teddy Begley could throw
a dodge ball hard enough and with enough accuracy to take
me out - and he was nearly blind! I was a fast runner though.
I learned just how fast one day when I had to outrun the whole
high school football team. Evidently I had been spotted kissing
the wrong girl. I didn't know she belonged to the team's manager/gang
leader.
But
I did like to sing. I sang all the way through school. From
first grade all the way through my high school years I couldn't
wait for that one hour or so in the middle of the day when
I got to make music. It was my mental oasis in the middle
of the academia desert. In elementary school my instrument
was the flute-o-phone and singing in music class. In middle
school I loved singing in the choir. In high school it was
music theory and the select choir that gave me purpose. I
loved my music.
--
Looking Back --
I love Jesus. Always have. I figured I had to and I'd better
say it often or he'd get mad at me and then I'd be sorry.
I don't know how many times as a kid I heard someone say,
"You'd better use your voice for God or He will take
it away from you." That was good enough for me. And that
was the impression I had of God while growing up in church.
I stayed scared a lot. I remember being frightened stiff by
a Sunday School teacher who told us that we may have actually
taken the Mark of the Beast - and we were only in elementary
school. She told us that the schools were requiring kids to
take the Mark and some of us may have even taken the thing
without realizing it. She also told us that the President
was probably the antichrist. That was pretty scary stuff for
us kids. Imagine fearing we'd been sucker tattooed by the
devil and he was running the country too.
Things
didn't become any clearer as I grew up in church. We always
attended small, noisy churches. These are some of the most
genuine people in the world. I have tremendous admiration
for their dedication and sacrifice. But I stayed confused.
There was this one guy who came to church who, by his own
accounts, had us believing he was Jesus' best friend. Then
he'd go to the gym and play rough-and-tumble basketball with
the guys for a couple of hours before heading home to pick
up his disability check. His wife had to work enough for both
of them, and the kids. But he always had a testimony of how
God was meeting their needs.
My
earliest church memories are of the tiny Baptist church we
used to go to. It wasn't much more than slats and pews. But
most of my church life has been spent in the Pentecostal church
- the very firm kind with lots of rules. Again, these folks
are genuine, and they have a real passion for giving it up
for God. There were very strict standards that any professing
Christian had to live by. The ladies: long hair, no makeup,
no jewelry and long dresses. The men: short hair, long sleeves,
and not even as much as a wedding ring. I remember one Saturday
night when a lady stood up in our church and began to sob.
She told us of a dream she had. In her dream she had a car
accident, and the paramedics had to cut her hair to treat
her injury. Then Jesus came back and she didn't make it to
Heaven because her hair had been cut. I decided then that
I didn't think I could be a Christian. How could I please
a God who obviously would have no regard for a situation that
was totally out of my control. If the woman's hair was a Heaven
or Hell issue, why didn't He just prevent the accident?
I
was a good kid growing up. When many of my friends were out
drinking and drugging, I was in church. I had opportunities
to join them of course, but I was afraid to. I knew that God
didn't want me to do those things. But that's not what I feared
most. I also knew that Mom and Dad didn't want me doing those
things. That's why I avoided such activities. The way I figured
it, God's judgment is coming - Mom and Dad's judgment is here
NOW. So I didn't get drunk or high. Fear and respect for my
parents made a lot of my decisions when I was growing up.
--
Early Music --
At the same time I was studying proper music, I was singing
and playing in a local bluegrass band called the Barnes Family.
They had been picking and singing around our area for a long
time when I joined them while in high school. I sang the tenor
part and played a terrible rhythm guitar while the rest of
the band tried to cover me up. On my sixteenth birthday I
traveled with them to Nashville to make two recordings. One
of them was gospel and the other was something else. (In bluegrass
music it's hard to tell sometimes when something is considered
"sacred" or secular.) We recorded all night long
in a little storefront studio on Church Street. We made two
long play albums in about 12 hours. And did it ever sound
like it. I had been with a handful of school choirs that made
live albums before, but this was my first taste of making
recorded music in a real life studio - and in Nashville!.
It was an awesome experience for a teenager who always wanted
to do this sort of thing.
--
The Bishops --
I actually wanted to be an undertaker when I was in high school.
I also wanted to be a Gospel singer - and a movie star - and
a professional dancer. I never said much to anyone about wanting
to be an undertaker. That seemed weird. Everyone wanted to
be a movie star, so I didn't have to say much about that.
And I knew there was no way I was going to be a dancer. That
would upset a whole lot of people. Our church didn't allow
us to dance unless we were led by the Holy Ghost. For some
reason the same things that were naughty when we were in the
flesh were very holy when we were in the Spirit.
So
I pursued being a Gospel singer. In the meantime I swept floors,
delivered newspapers, mowed lawns, fried chicken, flipped
burgers, mixed paint, cut glass, sold carpet and played records
for a living. I was bound to make my own way until a real
singing opportunity came along. I didn't know I had been living
with my big break all along. They were my family for Pete's
sake. (Is that cussing to a Catholic?) It never dawned on
me that I was living with a built-in Gospel group.
Dad,
Mark and I did well as the Bishops. Dad retired from the job
he'd had for twenty five years to travel and sing with his
two oldest sons. He managed the group, and with very little
formal education he did a remarkable job. Mark blossomed into
one of the absolute best story-telling-songwriters ever. Still
is. And I allowed my ambitions to drive and push me to the
point of self-centered, quick decisions and eventual destruction.
In
the summer of 1984 the Bishops recorded our very first recording.
In the spring of 2001 we recorded our last. For 17 years I
was the Gospel singer I had always wanted to be. We performed
in nearly every state in the country, shared the stage with
many of my Gospel music heroes, recorded over two dozen albums,
appeared on big time television shows and enjoyed having our
songs played on radio stations everywhere. We made some wonderful
lifelong friends and knew countless blessings as people came
to know Jesus through our work and ministry. I couldn't begin
to recount the goodness the Lord showed to us in those years.
--
Post Bishops --
Retiring the group was not my idea. But I felt I'd given up
my right to protest because of the circumstances I'd created.
It was my own greed, inflated ego and sense of indestructibility
that caused me to make the most irresponsible decision of
my life. The rumors that followed our quick and out-of-the-blue
disbanding were wild and viscous. What it boiled down to was
my own indiscretions and weaknesses. I'd risked my family,
my ministry, my integrity and my own self respect. I eventually
lost all of them.
I've
never been much of a rebel. So however slight it was, I became
a bit of one after the group disbanded. I stayed in church
for a while, even sang specials during church services and
joined the choir. The people of the little Nazarene church
in Ravenna, Kentucky were some of the most loving and genuinely
caring hearts I'd ever come to know. But my own feelings of
guilt caused me to feel stained and dirty. I felt looked down
on. Not by the people there, but by my own sense of who God
was. How could He ever trust me again? Why would He? When
we were on the stage singing, it often occurred to me that
there were many people in the pews watching and listening
who were much more talented than I was. One of them probably
should've been holding my mic. Now that my singing career
was over, surely God would get one of them to take my place.
As loving as the church people tried to be, I had trouble
feeling comfortable around them. So I left.
The
moments of intense anger I felt toward myself and the sorrow
I felt for all of those I let down haunted me for a long,
long time. Sometimes it still does. How could I ever express
my regret to so many? To do it broadly would seem shallow.
I hurt individuals, and I needed to apologize to individuals.
So I do - nearly everyday.
--
Politics --
I've always had a real attraction to the intriguing world
of politics. I remember as a kid sitting in front of the television
when Richard Nixon got on Marine One, the presidential helicopter,
and left the White House for the last time. I was just a kid,
but I cried. I wondered where he was going to live and who
was going to take care of him. I didn't know why he had to
leave. I just felt sorry for him. As soon as I was old enough
I registered to vote. I was with Ronald Reagan on the abortion
thing so I voted for him. (I heard later that HE was actually
the antichrist.) I started paying attention to who wanted
to save the unborn and hate the homosexuals and when the day
came, I voted for them. I had no idea there were many other
important issues to consider as well, like caring for the
poor, prejudice and civil rights, and being environmentally
and fiscally responsible. My thinking has changed on a lot
of things since those days.
When
I was newly married I was asked to run for city council in
the small community where we lived. I served nearly two terms
on the council until I resigned to pursue my ministerial studies.
As young as I was, I became one of the people in our tiny
town that other folks came to for political advice. Eventually
I was asked to help a friend with a State Representative's
race. I did and we won. Even while I was on the road with
the group I was helping run local political campaigns back
home, and doing it well. I had an impressive score sheet to
be proud of, and that means a lot in the political world.
It
was at a political fundraiser that I was asked by our US Congressman,
who was planning a run for Governor of Kentucky, to join his
campaign staff. I was thrilled. This was a very significant
race. He was the constant front runner throughout both the
primary and the general elections. I was his "body man."
Where he was, I was. People knew when they saw one of us the
other was close behind. The press started looking for me knowing
that he and I would be traveling together. He was a real inspiration
to me. He was and is genuine in his desire to serve the people
of Kentucky and it was a thrill when I was able to stand next
to him on election night as he delivered his acceptance speech.
Our group, the Bishops, later performed for his inaugural.
The
Congressman and I often attended church while we were out
on the campaign trail. He didn't like to give political speeches
in church, but since he was an ordained minister he was comfortable
around church people. And many of the people in the churches
recognized me as one of the Bishops. From time to time we
would be traveling on Sunday morning and couldn't be in church.
In the car, he'd have me lead a couple of hymns then he'd
read a passage of Scripture or a devotional while we were
riding down the road. He teases me still that I wouldn't let
him sing along. He had other talents.
After
the election and the inaugural we settled in for the work
of governing.
All
of my life experiences have contributed something to my character.
From my strict Pentecostal upbringing that both inspired and
perplexed me; to my experiences on the road where I learned
there are people who are madly in love with Jesus, but don't
necessarily see things the way I do; to the people I've met
in my political endeavors who've helped me understand that
making hundreds of new laws only outlines the offense, not
the problem or even the solution really. But, surprisingly,
it is the people I've come across in my rebellion that have
changed me most.
--
Me & God Today --
I hope I am never again like I was before. Sounds odd maybe,
but I don't want to be as small thinking and quick to judge
as I used to be. I hope that I can always see God the way
I see Him now, and see others the way He does. He is bigger
than I ever knew and more loving than I ever dreamed. No one
ever expressed to me what a lover He is. I knew He did miracles.
I knew He met needs. I even knew He sent His son. But it was
never, ever conveyed to me what a lover He is. Or if it was,
it was drowned out by the overriding noise of God as harsh
and happy to punish.
I've
been a church attender all of my life. But eventually I found
myself wanting to get away from God. I was ready to rebel.
But it was during that period of slight rebellion that I learned
much more about God than I ever did in all of the church services
I'd ever attended. I found myself going into loud and crowded
night clubs to hide from God. But I was constantly running
into people who recognized me from my music. They were trying
to hide too. And when they saw me in that place it was a sign
to them that God was still searching for them and still deeply
in love with them. They were convinced that God sent a familiar
Christian face to get their attention. We'd find the quietest
place we could and share our experiences. It always ended
with me encouraging them to give God another chance in spite
of their past and those (like me in my former role) who might
be one of His representatives, but not necessarily doing it
well. I settled my own issues with God, and had my own prodigal
experience in such a place. I "came to myself."
I
remember as a kid hearing good church people say terrible
things about a guy whose ministry took him to bars and other
unconventional places to share the love he'd found in Christ
. They'd say, "He'd better hope Jesus doesn't come back
while he's in that honky-tonk." I just listened and agreed.
I didn't know any better. But not anymore. I know that Jesus
can do as much in a dark bar or crowded club as He can in
any church building. After being told all of my life that
those people will have to find their own way back to God -
and do it the "right" way, I now know that God's
love can be expressed and found in the most unlikely places.
Is there a place that a person can go and God will stop at
the door, and not go in after them? Is it not in God's heart
to reach into such places and find them? Would Jesus walk
past such a place and consider everyone inside hopeless, not
fit for redemption? Does he cede any ground to his enemy?
--
Tomorrow and Beyond --
I wish I knew what was next. I've learned that God can be
spontaneous, and He is often unpredictable. As invitations
come in, I go tell my story. I still enjoy singing and sharing
the things that God is teaching me. Whether I'm singing, sharing
my story, rescuing the rebellious, or encouraging believers
to risk reputation for true righteousness, I'll listen for
the heart of God and follow the beat wherever it leads.
©
2006/2008 Kenny Bishop - All rights reserved.
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