Wherever we are, there is always something of beauty that bursts and begs notice – landmarks on our expedition of redemptive return.” Mo Leverett
There is a unique joy in watching someone living in passionate pursuit of life, fully embracing the joys and trials that come with traversing this earth. Beauty takes on so many different forms based on the intricacies of each personality, each gift and talent dispersed, developed, and shared with the world.
Art is not only a painting. It isn’t confined to the space of a page or a canvas. It’s not always wrapped in a stanza, or a lyric, or a ringing dissonant chord.
Art is found everywhere, in all of life. It’s a sunset, a crying baby, the mother humming gently into tender ears. It’s in the sweat of a laborer, fighting for his daily bread. It’s in the dusty feet of the mother who walks miles for water, the father who combs the fields for food.
Art is life. Breathing, circulating, moving in tendrils, in swirls throughout the ebb and flow of daily living. Art is alive and tangible, though you cannot always see it or touch it. You feel it, and you know it, and you recognize it when you’re in its presence.
He’s a musician “striving for poetic beauty and force, for authenticity and passion.” An artist who sways toward the folk and blues genre continuum, Mo seeks to embrace lament as an ordinary part of life, and his music reflects this. In his words, “The thread of compassion is woven through, born of living most of my life among the poor or being materially poor myself these last years.”
Currently, Mo is busy putting together his 12th album. Life, redemption, poverty, family, love, grace, suffering and justice are themes that commonly appear in many of Mo’s original songs, and his current album, These are the Days, continues to draw inspiration from his life in urban ministry, the repercussions of Hurricane Katrina, divorce, personal hardship, recovery, healing and remarriage.
I could keep talking about the album, but I think it would be best for you to hear from someone who knows him well. His producer, Scotty Alderman, shared these thoughts:
Mo is an original – part prophet, part preacher, part troubadour. His gruff voice is powerful and full of soul, while his lyrics paint vivid pictures and evoke strong emotions from the listener. Always affective and potent, Mo can say very hard things in tender ways, and tender things in easliy relatable ways.
Mo writes about pain, loss, injustice, love, and gratitude from a very deep place. His hard-won, hard-earned wisdom is matched with a voice suited to express it. Mo’s music is distinctly American, rugged and pioneering, more specifically steeped in the South, in the soulfulness of Louisiana. Mo’s lyrics are genuine, sincere, ernest, vulnerable, and laced with poetic prose. I think everyone should have the opportunity to hear him – he’s that sort of singer-songwriter. Mo could be one of the greats – I actually believe he already is.”
Dream chasing is rarely achieved on your own. All of us need a team to back us up, to support us as we push toward the actualization of our dreams. Dream chasing requires courage, confidence, and sometimes the asking for a little help.
If you are interested in hearing more music from Mo Leverett’s upcoming album, would you consider visiting his Kickstarter page and offering a pledge to help cover the costs of the album? Every dollar helps, and your pledge will be greatly and deeply appreciated. He is currently only $2,700 dollars shy of his goal with 9 days to go.
This is a small gap to fill!
For more insight into Mo’s heart, and to gain a better understanding of his skill as a writer, I urge you to read his post, The Joy of One Thing. It’s an honor to be a part of Mo’s journey as he strives to create art that is an honest depiction of the life he’s lived and seen. In his words: “The greatest joy that I receive from doing records is the opportunity to play with serious musicians and for them to enter the inspiration sector in one of my little songs. But I am also genuinely encouraged that my music is in any way a source of help and comfort to others.”
In the early days of our marriage, Lee and I lived in an apartment the size of a matchbox in Frisco, Texas. Miles from our home, a new church was in it’s early stages, still meeting in a local school while a building was being constructed. This church was led by Chuck Swindoll, an author both of us had long admired, and we quickly discovered that his preaching was the perfect fit for two kids playing house and trying desperately to grow up.
Every Sunday for two years we left our apartment early and traveled the two miles from home to church where we made it a point to sit on the second row, right next to Chuck’s wife Cynthia. We soaked in every word of his preaching, taking pages and pages of notes as we gleaned from his wisdom and his charisma.
Over the years, we have kept track of Pastor Swindoll through his Insight for Living broadcast, and on occasion we order a series of messages that we feel would be particularly beneficial. Last fall, we purchased his series on Biblical Parenting, and the first sermon alone left such an impact that I think on the message often.
He started by breaking down a verse that’s given me a great deal of consternation for the last few years. It’s a verse that I’ve long felt was misunderstood and misquoted often to the detriment of both parents and children.
Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6
This verse was always explained to me in such a way that if I raise my children in a strong, Bible believing household, and point them to the Lord, then when they grow old, they will naturally follow that path and not turn from it. The advice seems sound enough, and the message is nice to hear when you have young children who are easily trainable.
But what happens when those children grow up and rebel?
What about the children who choose to depart from their parent’s teaching, or from the church of their youth?
What happens when children question and doubt, and perhaps even turn their back on the Lord?
What are parents supposed to think then?
I’ve long felt that the common interpretation of this verse sets children up for unrealistic expectations of perfection, and sets parents up for a world of heartache and guilt if, indeed, their children choose to take a different path.
Chuck Swindoll set my mind and heart at ease when he broke down the literal interpretation of this verse. Proverbs 22:6 instructs parents to raise their children in the way they are bent.
We are to recognize the natural talents, passions, and gifts that our children possess, and train them up according to those things, so that when they grow old they will know who God created them to be. They will grow with a confidence in who they are, and in their purpose on this earth. This sets children up for success far more than a simplistic view that if they know Jesus at 6, they will know him at 26.
Does this mean they will stay the course and resist temptation? No, it does not. I pray daily that my children will make it through adolescence and young adulthood with a strong sense of faith and trust in the Lord, but I do not expect to raise perfect little robots who never fail, never make mistakes.
We must take the time to really watch our children, to observe them closely, and to take note of the traits that make each of them unique, and then we must heartily and graciously point them toward those naturals bents, even if they differ from what we would desire for them.
Is your child a gifted musician? Does he have an ear for music that comes naturally? Then by all means, buy him a guitar, give him a piano, or purchase a set of drums and some good ear plugs and let him flourish.
Don’t try to make him a quarterback if his natural gifting and desire lean toward music. Don’t try to make a musician out of a child that loves soccer. Don’t try to make a bookworm out of a thrill seeker.
We all recognize giftings in our children, and we naturally want to develop those. Sometimes we see a gift, but quickly realize that they don’t have a passion for that activity, and we have to make the hard choice to sit back and let them walk away from something in which they could potentially excel. Because the fact is, talent without passion can only take us so far before it all falls apart.
How are you doing at recognizing your children’s natural bents? Do you see untapped potential in your child that you could affirm? Point them in the way they should go, and when they’re old, they won’t depart from it.
Fanciful daydreams of a life of grandeur are the things that make childhood so magical. Perhaps one of the greatest tragedies to strike the fatherless is the stripping of innocence – a building block of dreams.
My daughter and I had a few moments alone in the car last week, and she reminded me yet again of the power of a good dream. We were on our way to her gymnastics practice, and she didn’t really want to go. She was tired, she wanted to stay home and fight with play with her brothers, and she just wasn’t in the mood for a four hour workout.
After a few tense moments of whining and pouting, she quieted down and took a deep breath.
“Mom?” she asked.
I glanced at her through the rearview mirror and reminded myself that she’s still so young. Big eyes hover over soft, full cheeks and a nose dotted with fine freckles. I waited for her to speak. She is the child who needs space to prepare her thoughts, slowly and deliberately choosing each word.
“I don’t want to play soccer next year.”
I was surprised by this comment. It was random and didn’t fit the context of our previous conversation. “Okay,” I answered. “You don’t have to.”
“I just don’t see myself as a soccer player,” she said, and I bit back a smile.
“Okay.”
“And I really don’t want to play softball,” she continued, her voice strong and adamant.
I turned onto the street where her gym was located and tried to follow along with her train of thought, to connect the dots from the anger about having to leave for gymnastics and the present conversation. I had a moment of panic, wondering if she was leading up to telling me she didn’t want to do gymnastics anymore. It’s a decision I would support, but it would break my heart, because she has so much talent.
“Well what do you see yourself doing?” I asked, guiding the car into a parking place in front of the gym. I put it in park and shifted so I could look her in the eye. She glanced out the window and a small smile spread across her face.
“I see myself at the Olympics,” she said. Her voice was wistful and dreamy and I couldn’t help but grin. I know that look, and I know what she’s feeling. When I was eight, I saw myself as an Olympic gymnast, too. I remember imagining the podium, and what it would feel like to watch the flag raised with my anthem playing. I envisioned this with the images of Mary Lou Retton shimmering in my mind.
“I’m ready now,” she said. “If I’m going to go to the Olympics, I guess I have to practice, huh?”
There’s something about childhood that makes dreaming so enviable. Right now, there is no doubt in her mind that her dream of going to the Olympics will come true, and there’s no part of me that plans to altar that dream with anything resembling a dose of reality. I know that with time and age, her dreams will shift, and they will mature, and they will change.
But I don’t ever want her to stop dreaming.
Too often as adults we let reality bury our dreams in a pile of salt. We become so practical that we forget the power of a healthy dream. We don’t let our dreams grow and mature with us, and we abandon the act of dreaming altogether.
My childhood dream of making the Olympic team is no longer a reality (though I think I could still have a shot at Curling. I mean, seriously…how hard could it be?!).
But there are realistic dreams that fit my life now, and I’m tired of pushing them aside. I dream of publishing books, of working more with organizations that support orphan care, of not settling and growing comfortable with a life of ease.
I dream of keeping a clean home.
Wait…never mind. That one is about as likely as me becoming the gold medal All Around gymnast in 2016.
The fact is, I don’t have to stop dreaming any more than my eight year old does. And what’s more – I need to chase my dreams as hard as she is chasing hers. I need to push for them, even when I don’t feel like it.
