{"id":33022,"date":"2018-02-08T13:44:40","date_gmt":"2018-02-08T19:44:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/?p=33022"},"modified":"2018-02-08T23:21:16","modified_gmt":"2018-02-09T05:21:16","slug":"learning-the-value-of-one-soul","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.markmallett.com\/blog\/learning-the-value-of-one-soul\/","title":{"rendered":"Learning the Value of One Soul","gt_translate_keys":[{"key":"rendered","format":"text"}]},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"Mark and Lea in concert with their children, 2006<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

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Mark’s testimony continues… You can read Parts I – III here: <\/em>My Testimony<\/a>.<\/p>\n

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HOST <\/b>and producer of my own television show; an executive office, company vehicle, and great co-workers. It was the perfect job.\u00a0<\/p>\n

But standing at my office window one summer afternoon, overlooking a cow pasture on the edge of the city, I felt a twinge of restlessness. Music<\/em> was at the core of my soul. I was the grandson of a Big Band crooner. Grampa could sing and play the trumpet like nobody’s business. When I was six, he gave me a harmonica. When I was nine, I wrote my first tune. At fifteen, I penned a song I used to sing with my sister that, after her death in a car accident four years later, became “her” ballad (listen to\u00a0Too Close to My Heart<\/em> below). And of course, through my years with One Voice<\/em>, I had piled up dozens of songs that I was itching to record.\u00a0<\/p>\n

So when I was invited to a do a concert, I couldn’t resist. “I’ll just sing mostly my love songs,” I told myself. My wife booked a small tour, and off I went.\u00a0<\/p>\n

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MY WAYS ARE NOT YOUR WAYS<\/p>\n

On the first night as I sang my songs, suddenly from deep within, a “word” began to burn on my heart. It was as if I\u00a0had\u00a0<\/i>to say what was stirring in my soul. And so I did. Afterward, I quietly apologized to the Lord. “Ah, sorry Jesus. I said I would never do ministry again unless You asked me. I won’t let that happen again!” But after the concert, a women came up to me and said, “Thank you for your music. But\u00a0what you said\u00a0<\/em>spoke so deeply to me.”\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Oh. Well, that’s good. I’m glad…” I responded. But I resolved, nonetheless, to stick to the music.\u00a0<\/p>\n

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I say I will not mention him,\u00a0I will no longer speak in his name.\u00a0But then it is as if fire is burning in my heart,\u00a0imprisoned in my bones;\u00a0I grow weary holding back,\u00a0I cannot! (Jeremiah 20:9)<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The next two nights, the exact same thing replayed. And once again, people came to me afterward saying that it was the spoken word that ministered to them most.\u00a0<\/p>\n

I returned home to my job, a little confused\u2014and even more restless. “What is wrong with me?”, I wondered. “You’ve got a terrific job.” But the music burned in my soul… and so too did God’s Word.<\/p>\n

A few months later, unexpected news filtered up to my desk. “They’re cutting the show,” said my co-worker. “What?! Our ratings are climbing!” My boss confirmed it with a rather benign explanation. In the back of my mind, I wondered if it wasn’t because of the letter to the editor of a local paper I had sent just weeks before. In it, I questioned why the news media was eager to publish pictures of war or fender benders… but then avoided the photos that told the true story of abortion. The blowback was fierce from fellow workers. The news boss, a practicing Catholic, scolded me. And now, I was out of a job.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Suddenly, I found myself with nothing to do but<\/em> my music. “Well,” I said to my wife, “we made nearly almost as much from those concerts as my monthly salary. Perhaps we can make it work.” But I laughed to myself. Full-time ministry in the Catholic Church with five kids (we now have eight)?? We’re going to starve!\u00a0<\/p>\n

With that, my wife and I moved to a small town. I built a studio in the house and began my second recording. On the night we finished the album over a year later, we set off on our first family concert tour (at the end of each evening, our children would come up and sing the last song with us). And like before, the Lord continued to put words on my heart that burned<\/em> until I spoke them. Then I began to understand. Ministry is not what I have to give, but what God wants to give. It’s not what I have to say, but what the Lord has to say. For my part, I must decrease so that He may increase. I found a spiritual director [1]<\/sup><\/a>Fr. Robert “Bob” Johnson of Madonna House<\/span><\/span>