-- 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.