A Man of No Reputation
If they were writing the Bible these days, Rich Mullins would have his own book.
Rich was born in 1955 on an Indiana farm to a simple, evangelical family. Small, sensitive, and creative, Rich never got on with his dad, which left scars on his heart. He wanted to be an athlete like the other boys in school, but his fingers fit the piano. “Wayne” as his family called him, attended Bible college and ultimately gained popularity in the 1990s with hits like "Awesome God" and "Step by Step." Mullins was known for his poetic lyrics, shocking honesty, and the ability to play the hell out of the hammer dulcimer.
Rich Mullins died 27 years ago last Thursday. I met Rich when I was in middle school. He was my counselor at Christian summer camp. I’ll never forget his laugh, or the way he smelled like cigarettes. He was forever in need of a shower and a shave. But unlike the buttoned-up evangelical pastors I knew, Rich was real. He was kind. There was not one ounce of pretension in his body. He treated me like I mattered. Rich looked you in the eyes, asked questions about your life, and listened with wide-eyed wonder to a bunch of nobody kids from Northeast Arkansas.
I will also never forget his haunting loneliness and the melancholy he wore like a coat. He just didn’t fit in, especially in the image-based, egocentric contemporary Christian music scene. He drifted from place to place as the wind blew. There were rumors about his sexuality and drinking habits. I remember one particular up-and-coming Christian artist whose self-righteousness led him on a quest to out Rich.
Instead of making bank off his music, Rich gave away the lion’s share of his royalties to charity. Toward the end of his life, Rich finally found a home among the Navaho People in the New Mexican desert. He spent his last days living in a hut, teaching music to children on the reservation.
Rich was the Godfather of the deconstruction community. While most of us were still in diapers, Rich openly critiqued evangelical religiosity. His concerts were part song, part sermon. Stopping between sets to break forth into an impromptu soliloquy during one of his last concerts, he shared this with his evangelical audience:
“Christianity is not about building an absolutely secure little niche in the world where you can live with your perfect little wife and your perfect little children in your beautiful little house where you have no gays or minority groups anywhere near you. Christianity is about learning to love like Jesus loved and Jesus loved the poor and Jesus loved the broken…Jesus said whatever you do to the least of these my brothers you’ve done it to me. And this is what I’ve come to think. If I want to identify fully with Jesus Christ, who I claim to be my savior and Lord, the best way that I can do that is identify with the poor. This I know will go against the teachings of all the popular evangelical preachers, but they are just wrong. They’re not bad, they are just wrong.”
Nine days before he died, Rich recorded some of his most poignant lyrics on a cassette tape. He didn’t live to see The Jesus Record produced. But like Rich, the raw, hauntingly simple, unfinished work is a masterpiece. It was said he never finished singing Man of No Reputation without weeping. Given the autobiographical nature of the lyrics, I believe it. If you knew him, you’ll recognize Rich all over these lines:
He was a man of no reputation
And by the wise, considered a fool
When He spoke about faith and forgiveness
In a time when the strongest arms ruled
But this man of no reputation
Loved the weak with relentless affection
And He loved all those poor in spirit just as they were
He was a man of no reputation
It was said this man brought only confusion
That He'd achieve his ends by any means
And the truth would bring revolution
And for once they were right
The truth set us free
The hearts of the captive were his only concern
And the powerful knew their days were ending
Here’s the crazy thing about Rich. Although he spent his entire life misunderstood and often alone, everyone who ever met him thought Rich was their best friend. After his death, author Brennan Manning shared this about his friend. “The power of Rich Mullin’s life lay in the power of his brokenness. The power of his unblinking honesty, his deeply moving sincerity. God I miss him. But, to my dying day, I will boast and with honor say Rich Mullins was my friend.”
I’ve never seen Jesus. I have a heard time imagining God putting on flesh. I struggle to hear God’s voice. I am a perennial doubter. But I have seen Rich Mullins. I’ve touched his dark skin, smelled his pungent breath, and listened with heart burst open and tears rushing down my face to that raspy voice from heaven. What a gift.
Until my dying day, I will forever be grateful that Rich Mullins graced the pages of my life.
If you’ve never listened to Rich, here are a few of my favorites.
Gary Alan Taylor
How have you been FK’D up by faith? This time, I share my personal story of how my faith deconstruction cost me my job, my spiritual community, my friends, and my family.