I’m especially thrilled about a few concert opportunities to share my songs & stories with people along the way. Something happens when we come together and take a few moments to be authentic and vulnerable. Hope takes root, and people are encouraged. For that, I’m continually amazed and honored.

Hope to see you sometime along the way…

Don’t forget my new music video…and the opportunity to get a free download of the song here.

For best results, hit PLAY and then pause it, letting the whole video load before starting to watch. You can also watch at different levels of quality, too, if you’d like.

So…what do you think? Please drop me a note in the comments section below, and please share this video with anyone you think could stand a giant dose of hope.

Many thanks to the amazing JR Davis for creating this video. Need video work done? Please contact him via his website or via email.

Additional thanks to Craig Purcell, Suki Neblett, Jesse Walker, and Debra McCowan! And Julie Branhan and Soul Choir (www.soulchoir.com) including, Judith Baker, Tina Caveness, Jennifer Dixon, Tara Oliver, Madonna Williams, Justine Yates. Additionally, Stan Stacey and David Perry. And the awesome Craig Nunn, who makes a brief cameo appearance in one of the shots! And the park ranger lady who tried to shut us down and only made us more passionate about the whole thing.

“Pilgrim Man” track produced by Christopher Davis (www.christopherdavismusic.com) and mixed by Timothy Brown. Music & lyrics by Mark Smeby. Band/Choir charts and soloist accompaniment tracks are available! Just send me an email. Radio servicing being handled by Wendell Gafford of Creative Promotions.

This is opening week, a return to the grand, grass-filled sanctuaries filled with hot dog eating fans, and constant coverage on ESPN and the MLB Network. Life feels more like it’s supposed to feel when baseball is in season.

Still, whenever I express my love for the game, I’m prepared to hear people say things like, “Man, baseball is so boring,” or…nope, that’s it—that what everyone who isn’t a baseball fan says.

But Opening Day signifies a kind of new life, a fresh start, a rebirth of the old teams, a blank slate of possibility. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve said about my favorite team at the end of the season, “Maybe next year.” Well, next year is here. And there’s always a chance that something new and exciting will happen. Last year’s slump will become this year’s triumph. Last year’s basement dweller may just become a wild-card contender.

But baseball to me is more than just who wins and loses.

I love my Minnesota Twins, mostly because I’ve grown up with them. The logo incites a certain kind of familiarity, a home-ness of sorts. It’s my team. And I want to have a “my team”—that’s an important value to me. This culture seems to pound out our individual desires and spoon-feed us what we’re supposed to root for. So having “my team,” especially if they are not doing particularly well, is a standing up for my individuality, but within a community environment. Does that make sense?

Where I live in Tennessee, it’s very rare to see anyone wearing a Twins hat. I’m unique. But when I go home to Minnesota, it’s as if everybody has a Twins hat, jacket, or jersey! I’m among like-minded folk, even if I’m not unique any longer. Individuality turns into being a part of community.

I believe this is what happens when fans gather together in a stadium. We bring our individual passion for the game and its players, and come together to celebrate with other like-minded believers. A spiritual gathering, complete with our own secular eucharist.

It’s fascinating to me how baseball is as much a game of individual performance as it is a team sport. Heck, the offense of one person—the batter—goes up against the entire defensive team. All nine in the field working together to defeat the one man with the bat standing at the plate. This is simplifying the game to a huge extent, because there are scores of offensive strategies employed, mostly going unnoticed to the uneducated eye. Then the roles are reversed. The entire defense comes in from the field and sits on the bench, cheering for their hitters who go up to the plate one by one.

It’s a game that honors individualism within the context of a team sport. The most valued athletes are the ones who are able to react instantly and excellently on the offense and defense, and who must be able to hit, run, throw, and field. Even the physical separation between the players on the field highlights the individual, and their need to cover their area. As a player you’ve got to be excellent in the field and at the plate. You’ve got to be a great individual player, but also a top-notch team player.

I’m also fascinated by how a successful hitter is someone who gets a hit three out of ten times at the plate. And someone who is struggling usually gets a hit two out of ten times. If only we could allow ourselves that same kind of grace off the field! They even have something called a “sacrifice,” usually a fly ball or a bunt, where the guy at the plate will actually try to get an out, just to advance or score a runner. Talk about “taking one for the team!”

There’s a certain order to baseball that is perhaps what some people interpret as boring. There’s seldom any recklessness in baseball, something you can often find in the brutality of football or hockey. It is a game of great fairness. There’s no clock to run out. Each team gets exactly 27 chances.

Football discourages reflection. Though I love the tribalness of football, with one team battling the other to take over their territory and cross a certain line. It’s raw and masculine. But baseball is a thinking person’s game. Managers act as chess masters in this grand game of strategy, orchestrating the movements of his players. Defensive strategies can change with each batter, even with each pitch, depending on the situation. There’s unpredictability to the game that has to be responded to with great skill.

Call me old fashioned, but I’d rather live in a baseball world, than a football world. Baseball is a world where there are more errors than home runs, though we all still step up to the plate, putting aside our fear, seeking to do our best. And if it doesn’t work out this year, there’s always next year.

Two years ago I took an amazing trip to four great baseball stadiums with my buddy Eric. Our final game was at the prolific Fenway Park in Boston. The Red Sox were playing my team, the Twins. I felt like I was the only one in the whole place with a Minnesota jersey, cheering for my guys. I leaned over to the dad with his two kids sitting in front of me and offered a kind of apology for rooting for the enemy. His response summed up one of the great beauties of the game. He said, “No problem. As long as you’re a baseball fan, you’re alright with me.”

Since this is Holy Week, I thought you might enjoy listening to some great worship tunes, specifically around the theme of Easter. I’m grateful to have worked briefly with Don Bittner on his syndicated radio show, “The Heart of Worship.” This particular week, he had laryngitis and asked me to fill in. What an honor!  So he sent me the script and I recorded it here in my house, and then voilà! A two hour radio show! I hope you enjoy listening – there are some great songs in here. Don is now working on a great new radio show called “Keep The Faith” – you can check that out by clicking here!

Segment 1 – (17:46) 

Segment 2 – (13:07) 

Segment 3 – (19:09) 

Segment 4 – (4:01) 

Segment 5 – (21:17) 

Segment 6 – (16:15) 

Segment 7 – (12:30) 

What kinds of things do you pray about? Lately, I’ve been praying to understanding what faith is. You probably got a bit of that if you read the blog entry about my recent TV audition. But even beyond that, what does properly focused faith…um…focus on? I believe that being a strangely ambitious person with highly defined goals has made my understanding of faith difficult. Why, you ask? Because at my worst, I’ve placed my faith in God to make all my dreams come true, in exactly the way I think he should do it. Wouldn’t you agree this makes God a bit like Aladdin’s genie in a bottle—simply meant to grant my wishes? I’m humbled and a bit embarrassed to admit this. But I’m thankful for a breakthrough that came this week, showing me how my perspective was all wrong.

A friend told me how he was trying to a sell a house in a different state…for three and a half years. Uggh, right!? He was frustrated most of that time, until he decided to completely surrender the house to God. He said it’s been an amazing six months of trusting that God was in control…and that he was going to be alright, if or when the house ever sold. I saw my own life goals so clearly in front of me as he told his story. I’ve been so focused on “my house selling,” and racking my brain trying to figure out what would be the very best way to accomplish that. Freedom came when I realized that I’ve just got to do the next right thing in front of me…and simply trust God with the outcome. Meaning, make sure the lawn gets mowed, the shrubs trimmed, the rooms are clean, and it’s all presented with as much excellence as possible. The rest…what happens with the house…is out of my control. But I’ve done my part. God’s got the rest.

Does this connect with you in any way? Is there someone in your life that you wish was different, but you can’t figure out how to change them? So you’ve been racking your brain trying to figure out what to do, when all you need to do is simply love this person as hard as you can? Or is there something out in front of you that you really want to control…so things turn out the best way you think they can (or should!)? Perhaps the peace that I just uncovered, that comes from surrendering the outcome, and the ensuing hope and courage…will help encourage you to explore what living with more faith might look like. I’d love to hear from you if that’s the case.

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I felt the support of so many people carrying me into this audition. The casting director asked me to call her. She reminded me to do my scene just like I did it the last time through on Wednesday. To wear the same thing. And don’t be shocked if I actually don’t get to see the director.

That last part didn’t make sense to me. But I chock it up to some Hollywood thing where it’s all about keeping the actors on their toes, never knowing what to expect, and to always remember who’s in charge. Kind of like how the guys are treated in prison. Except with the possibility of a cool, life-changing opportunity hanging in the balance.

Again, I was the first one in the waiting room. But it became apparent that there were going to be about eight of us seen. I was oddly nervous, and saw myself turn into a kind of party host meets stand-up comic. I introduced myself as everyone came in—partly to be kind, but also to find out what part they were up for. It didn’t look like anyone else was there to read for the part of Bucky, so that felt encouraging.

The first young woman went in, taking her fiddle. I took the ready seat, since I was next. She came out and said how incredibly nice everyone was. No sweat. They called my name, took me down the hall, and told me to stand outside the door for a second. This is when I got super nervous. Waiting for the gun to go off while in the starting blocks. This must be what it feels like before you go into the judge’s room on American Idol.

The door opened and they brought me in. I’m first blinded by two big lights shining toward where I’ll be acting, and then it’s the long table filled with paper, laptops and headshots. Then it’s the three people sitting behind the table. This is just like American Idol. The Oscar-winning screenwriter on the left, the director in the middle, and another producer on the right. The writer lady was awesomely nice, shaking my hand. I told her, “Thank you so much for coming to Nashville!” The director didn’t look up, and the other producer nodded his head at me. I asked if he shook hands, and offered mine. He took it. Then I took my place in front of the lights, casting director sitting in front of me just as we rehearsed. A strange few moments of us just sitting there passed. Then the director stood up. His phone rang. “I’m sorry I’m going to have to take this. Go ahead without me,” and walked out of the room.

This stirred up something strange in me. Everything in me wanted to say, “I don’t mind waiting for him to come back,” but I didn’t. Then we began the scene.

Right off the bat, I made a mistake. “We put 20,000 tickets on sale and they were gone in a week.” It was supposed to be 16,000. I had to keep talking, but my mind raced and I felt stupid for messing up, especially in front of the person who wrote the script! The rest went off without much of a hitch, until I reached the very end. In rehearsal, I had continually forgotten one particular word. And wouldn’t you know, I forgot it again here under the lights. And then I was supposed to say, “Just wait til you piss those guys off.” And because I was feeling stupid for forgetting the magical word: stiffing, the last line came out wrong…I can’t even remember what I said. We ended.

Then there was another weird silence, like everyone was waiting for someone else to do or say something, and they didn’t. Finally the casting director broke the ice and said, “Anything else?” The writer lady said, “That’s great. Thanks.”

My response to her was, “Dang, I’m sorry I messed up your words…as a writer, I really wanted to honor the words you wrote!” I think that’s what I said. Then I walked out. And went out to my car. It was a horribly strange, empty feeling. Very similar to getting your 8th grade school picture taken.

“So how did it go?” Everyone wants to know. Well, it was fine. I have no idea what they thought, or if I was not at all what they want, or exactly what they’re looking for. Now my job is to officially let it go. To release this. To actually start to forget about it.

After Wednesday’s audition, the bell slowed its ringing the next day. But getting to this next level is making it really difficult for me to let the bell’s ringing die down. I’m one step closer to something really awesome, and I’m supposed to just forget about it? That’s what the experienced actor would say.

But what do I say to all the people that have been praying for me and are cheering me on? Thanks for the support, but it’s time to move on people! Nothing to see here! I can’t fathom that.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I will be waiting and hoping for the phone to ring, probably for several more days. But I am incredibly thankful for getting this far, and having the opportunity to act in front of real-life Hollywood people. And I’m blown away by the excitement and support of so many people in my life who are interested in my success. It makes it all that much better when good things happen, because it’s not just for me to enjoy. It’s for all of us to enjoy.

Everyone you meet, they’re jamming in the street,

All night long (all night)… Yeah, I said!

Everyone you meet, they’re jamming in the street,

All night long (all night)…

~

This reminds me of the time in college when I auditioned for “A Chorus Line” at the Upstairs Dinner Theater in Omaha. I loved the show and wanted to be in it very badly, even though I knew I probably wasn’t a strong enough dancer for the show. I was right, I never heard back from them after that audition. Until several months had past, and it all turned on a dime. The phone call came from the director at the Upstairs, saying that they needed to find a replacement for the character of Benjamin in their production of “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” that had just opened. He remembered me from my “A Chorus Line” audition, and from that, offered me this new role. I was blown away. My preparation was watching them perform the show from the audience for a week. Then one day, I was handed my costume, and I was suddenly in the show. It doesn’t get much more surreal than that.

——————————————————————

Surrender is super tough. Especially when other people are brought into the story. I took a chance by posting something on Facebook about it—something I never do when it comes to stuff like this.

It was difficult to do anything productive the rest of the day. For some reason, this experience felt different than any I’d ever had. Was it the involvement of my Facebook friends? Was it the outpouring of love and prayers of my family and close friends who were so excited, and maybe even a little convinced that I would get the part? I felt very vulnerable. Exposed. Not that I’d let anybody down if I don’t get it, but how does it affect people’s view of God when they, heck…when I…pray for something, and it doesn’t happen? I also thought about how smart God would be to make this happen, because of the residual benefit it’d provide to my music ministry. Come on, God…right?

While the texts kept coming into my phone: How did it go? I laid sideways on my bed, trying to process some of these thoughts in my journal. I had just read Matthew 17 that morning where Jesus says, “If you had a mere kernel of faith, a poppy seed, say, you would tell this mountain, ‘Move!’ and it would move. There is nothing you wouldn’t be able to tackle.”

My response: God increase my faith. Help me see how intricately involved you are in my life, and how much more you desire to be!”

But that afternoon, I had a bit of a breakthrough. I wrote… God, you are so good to me. I’m strangely at peace. I’m surrounded by people who care for me, and are cheering for me. I’d love to glorify you through this job, Lord…to say HOORAY, we did it! You love me and you are with me. I’m asking you for favor to get this job. I want to have crazy faith that says, “Yes, God, you hear me, and will act on my behalf. But either way, I know you’re going to make a choice.”

This is up to God—and I can’t believe I’m saying that. I’ve heard people talk this way my whole life, but to really accept, no…believe…that whether I get this job or not is up to God seems a bit radical, a bit otherworldly. I continued…

God, this is your choice. And I will trust you, no matter your decision. Then one of my songs came to mind…the last song I wrote for my Christmas CD—one that I sang for people all across the country just a couple months ago. And now it’s something I’m really wanting to believe for myself:  I can’t wait to see what you have for me! I know it’s gonna be good. Because you love me more than I know. It’s gonna be something good.

If it is indeed God’s choice, I can live with either decision. Show or no show. Crazy faith says God is deeply involved in every aspect of my life—if it’s rainy or sunny, riches or famine. I will choose to do the best I can with all I’ve been given, then I will leave the rest to Him, not chance. And it’s gonna be good.

Next Facebook post 2/29/12: Thank you my friends for all the prayers and encouragement. It went fantastic. And is now in God’s hands. And the director’s.

I love my friend Joe’s hilarious response. He’s a director himself, well familiar with the process. He wrote: That’s the same thing, Mark…

Next day’s journal entry – Thursday 3/1/12: I feel like I can breathe a bit easier today. My pastor Thomas once talked about a bell being rung in the tower of a church as an illustration of forgiveness. But I believe it also relates to this situation. Once I let go of the rope that I’ve been pulling on to make the bell ring, it’s going to take a little while before the bell actually stops ringing. Waking up this morning, the bell isn’t ringing as loudly as it was before. I can actually imagine getting through this situation, even if I never hear from “Nashville” again.

My sister sent me an awesome text this morning: jes’ rest in his love 2day won’t you? It’s a reference to a song I wrote 20 years ago called “Rest In His Love.” And it’s exactly what I needed to hear. I went through the day. Went for a good jog. Watched some TV.

Then about 9:30 that night, my agent called. Her voicemail said: “Mark, this is Evelyn. Kim just called me and you have a callback tomorrow. Sometime between 12:30 and 2:30 with the director. He just called her. I’ll give you more information when I get it. Thank you Mark.”

I can’t explain what that felt like. But I bet you can imagine. I started crying. It was tears of joy, relief, excitement, gratitude. I called my sister. And my parents. And started to go over my lines again. And then I turned up the music and started dancing around my bedroom.

“We’re going to party, kalamu, fiesta, forever. Come on and sing along! 

All night long (all night), All night (all night).”

Facebook post 3/2/12: Good news came last night. The director wants to meet me at 12:45 today. Whoa! Thank you everybody for making this an amazing week.

Part 3 – the callback…read it by clicking here!

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On a dime. The way I’m choosing to live my life, it can all turn 180 degrees in a moment’s notice. An unexpected phone call or email could send me around the world or onto the television screen in a matter of hours. It’s an exciting way to live. But it comes with more than a fair share of unsettledness—enough uncertainty to choke a horse…if I was a horse.

Wed 2/29/12 – I just came home from a really important audition. A “this could change my life” kind of audition. I’m trying to think ahead to someone reading this and already knowing the outcome, and the subsequent cancellation of the production. Or it could be the opposite: You mean, you had a shot at being on that show! Wow…

I’m incredibly optimistic about it. But I have felt this way before, so I’m slightly cynical, as well. I have felt hopeful about the possibility of getting a valuable, mortgage-paying gig in the past (I don’t mean completely paying off the mortgage, just helping to make the monthly payment!), and having it not work out. But now I’m kind of a jumble of emotions. I’m excited and tempted to dive into the fantasy of how great life could be if this worked out, then I feel guilty for that fantasy, and assume that I’m sabotaging the job by thinking too highly of it. Most actors would agree that you usually get the gigs you don’t care about, the auditions you work on in the car as you drive to them.

The show is called “Nashville” and it’s a pilot that ABC has ordered “with options,” meaning, they’re pretty serious about wanting this show if the pilot is quality. It’s an hour-long scripted drama (or primetime soap) about love, country music, family, and politics set against the backdrop of the Nashville music scene. The story centers around 40-year-old Nashville superstar Rayna James (Connie Britton – “Friday Night Lights,” “American Horror Story”) who is stunned to find out her star is fading. Her label requires her to team up with teen sensation Juliette Barnes (played by “Heroes” alum Hayden Panettiere) on tour—or else face the loss of her own tour and the label’s promotion of her latest record, whose sales have been underwhelming.

I read for the role of Bucky, Rayna’s manager. It’d be a great part, having to be the compassionate and intelligent bridge between the creative expectations of Rayna, and the business requirements of the label. Perfect, right?

Let me back up. On Monday the 27th, I posted: Sometimes an audition comes along & you try so hard not to get too excited…but you just can’t help it? Just got a call for one Wed am.

That post was met with an incredible outpouring of love and support, so much so that I printed it out, put it in my pocket and took it into the audition with me. People wrote that they were praying for me. That blew me away. Does God really care if I get this job? I can’t help but wonder.

The next post was the picture above…taking at the audition on the 29th, just before going in. I simply wrote, waiting…

I arrived at the audition with my scene memorized—my agent sent me the script on Monday. I felt prepared and confident. But I’m well aware that my confidence can drain out at the drop of a hat. I was the only one in the small waiting room in the “Nashville” production offices, set-up in an industrial warehouse area (I had no idea existed) on the edge of downtown. Another actor walked in, I recognized him from other auditions. He brought a guitar.

The casting director called me into her makeshift office, with her assistant manning a tiny video camera in the corner. I was watching myself during all this, noticing that I had an incredible amount of energy, especially in contrast to the mellow tone of the room.

“Why am I so hyper?” Oh yes, the character is a manager, and most managers I know are high-strung, get-it-done kind of guys. I let it slide.

She gave me some background information about what the producers have commented on with previous auditions. “Less is more,” she said.

We run through the scene. I acted. I remembered my lines. I was nuanced. The video camera’s red light shone its approval.

“OK, cut. Let’s go back and do it again.” The camera stops. “But this time, don’t act so much.”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that. It’s kind of ironic that they call you an actor, they hire you to act, and then when you get there they tell you not to act. Especially after all the rehearsal in my bedroom, developing my presentation as if I’m appearing in front of a grand audience, to be asked to tone it “way down” and deliver it to one person sitting in front of you…can feel a bit like a straight jacket.

“Put this fancy white coat on, make sure the sleeves go all the way around…and now…action!”

I gave it a try, grateful for the helpful direction, and not just a simple, “Thanks, we’ll call you” (though I’ve never actually heard those words…most times, they never call). It felt boring and staid.

“Good!” she said. Good? Really? You mean, maybe I can actually do this non-acting thing? “Watch that you don’t sound condescending at the end. Deliver it more like a friend.” We did it again. And it was good.

I left feeling pretty thrilled for the opportunity to at least throw my name in the hat. The casting director didn’t know if they would be casting this part from the tape or if they’d have a callback. So I got into my car, and drove off.

Now my job, I thought to myself, is to try and forget this ever happened. Chances are, I’ll never hear anything again from this project, as much as I might hope I would. And usually it’s pretty easy to do, if it’s an audition for a commercial for a restaurant or insurance company. But a real-life television show? I mean, what are the chances that ABC would come to Nashville to shoot a show in the first place, much less, cast me? Very slim, yes. But things were pointing in a positive direction, even getting asked to audition.

Part 2 – the news of a callback…click here!

At its peak the church had over 10,000 members. Schuller was the Joel Osteen of his day. He wrote dozens of books, selling millions with titles like Way To The Good Life (1963), Move Ahead With Possibility Thinking (1967), Self-Love (1975), You Can Be The Person You Want To Be (1976), Toughminded Faith for Tenderhearted People (1979), Self-Esteem: The New Reformation (1982), Tough Times Never Last but Tough People Do (1983), Living Positively One Day At A Time (1986).

Schuller opened Garden Grove Community Church in 1955 at an old drive-in movie theater, allowing people to sit in their cars and hear the sermon. He then built a facility where he could preach to 500 cars as well as people sitting inside the church. This eventually turned into the famous Crystal Cathedral, which is everything you’d think it’d be—a grand and glorious testimony to the goodness of God. And I helped build it.

I would regularly send in a portion of my allowance to support his ministry, and in return he’d send me thank you gifts, a small ivory cross which was my favorite. It was a great symbol of my belief and a connection to something bigger than myself.

It’s hard to know exactly what I was connecting with during those moments in my beanbag chair. He was unquestionably planting seeds of hope and optimism in my tiny brain, evidence of which can be seen in my music today. He told me that whatever hardship comes your way that it’s possible to make it through without becoming a victim of it. He spoke to the hurting, the struggling, the lonely, those wondering if life was ever going to get better. For some reason, even at that young age—when I felt so different from other kids my age, oftentimes getting beat up for it—I desired to know that life does get better, that hope is real, and that God loves me. Robert Schuller convinced me of this.

So when my Grandma Bob demonstrated her unbelievable strength in dealing with my Grandpa Kenny’s Alzheimer’s disease, I got it. I knew what she was doing, and I wanted to do that too. She taught me never to give up when times get rough. She told me the worms only pick at the best apples, and that while she felt, at times, like a fish on a hook—trapped—that if she struggled hard enough it might be possible to break loose.

I don’t understand why I had a fascination with God at such an early age, much less a TV preacher. But I do know for certain that from a very young age, I had the feeling that things could be better than they were. That relationships don’t have to be fractured. Dreams don’t have to be squashed. And that somehow, somehow in the magic seeds of faith, I could catch a glimpse of this better life—a life without pain or hurt or separation or frustration. Robert Schuller confirmed that for me, and then helped me put words on it.

I still believe things can be better than they are—even though I’m constantly tempted to focus on the way things are broken. How it all hurts more than I think it should. But to me, the fact that I even feel this way, is proof that there is something inside of me that knows what unbroken feels like. Something I believe was placed inside of me from a very early age.