Humility

One of the more spirited characters I’ve met in the South is “Jacky” Jack White—a songwriter and recording artist who doubles as a Church of Christ minister. We met for dinner at the historic Weidmann’s Restaurant in Meridian, Mississippi on February 23.

How he came to be known as “Jacky Jack” is one of many colorful anecdotes and opinions he shared over the course of our three-hour visit.

“Jacky,” he explained, was a spur-of-the moment inspiration. It came to him more than 30 years ago, seconds before he was to take the stage for his first solo concert.

“How do you want to be introduced?” the emcee asked.

Suddenly cognizant that his musical idol, Jerry Lee Lewis, had three names, he spontaneously added “Jacky” to “Jack White”—and he’s been “Jacky Jack” ever since. Through the years, he’s written hit songs for several country music stars, including Ray Stevens and Charley Pride. He currently directs and hosts the Sucarnochee Revue & Record Company, a monthly musical variety show in Meridian.

“Did you know,” Jacky tested, “What state has the most Grammy awards per capita?” I did not. “Mississippi,” he claimed proudly.

While music pays the bills, Jacky is equally animated about his spiritual calling—as the minister to a small local congregation.

“So, you’re lookin’ fer God?” he asked, amused at the nature of my yearlong quest. “Did you know,” he smiled, “that God’s lookin’ fer you?”

Such light-spirited quips were sprinkled throughout the earnest exploration of faith that consumed both our meal and subsequent walking tour of the town. Though our spiritual dispositions differ, the dialogue was both pleasant and candid.

At one point—wanting to probe his pastoral leanings—I mentioned that, while driving through Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi, I couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming number of billboards promoting adult superstores. A friend had humorously ventured that “the stores were for Saturday nights and the churches for Sunday mornings!”

Jacky didn’t hide his perception of people—including himself—as inherently “sinful.” But he takes consolation in the Divine’s infinite mercy.

“Ya know what I love about God?” he explained enthusiastically. “He keeps on fergivin’ me. And he keeps on fergettin’! That’s what I love!”

As a “man of God,” Jacky alluded to certain moral “abominations”—a view he likely sensed I didn’t share. Regardless, he didn’t belabor the point. And he quickly qualified it—in a way that caught me pleasantly off guard.

“Do you want to know the greatest abomination?” he reflected. “The greatest abomination is pride.”

Appreciating the implicit tempering of any judgmental tendency, I asked him how he manages to align his values and his faith.

He talked of how, in times of trouble, fasting helps him refocus, and “live in the presence of God.”

“Isn’t it funny,” I responded, “how people always turn to God when things are bad?” Jacky laughed. “What I want to know is how you stay aligned during the good times?”

“There is a key,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “But I don’t have it,” he added with a self-deprecating grin. “It’s humility!”

If, as Jacky asserts, the greatest abomination is pride—and if, as he likewise suggests, the key to living in alignment is humility, then shouldn’t any conversation about faith be colored by the utmost respect for and appreciation of different beliefs? Shouldn’t our attitude about God be characterized by the ultimate humility? Shouldn’t we be able to acknowledge that—no matter what we’ve been told or taught or read in the Bible—we do not and cannot know the will of God? And consequently, as it relates to our “understanding” of God, wouldn’t we be better off not imposing what we don’t know on others?

What did I learn from Jacky Jack White? I learned that it’s not only possible, but enjoyable to disagree about matters of faith. It’s not only possible, but entertaining to explore different ways and means of approaching God. It’s not only possible, but relatively easy to remain civil, respectful, courteous, and honest, even when your theological orientations might seem irreconcilable. If we stay humble.  

In his book, Taking Flight, Anthony De Mello writes, “It is not the diversity of our dogmas but our dogmatism that does the damage. Thus, if each of us did what we are firmly persuaded is the will of God the result would be utter chaos. Certainty is the culprit. The spiritual person knows uncertainty.”

I like uncertainty. I also like the humble way Jacky summed up the ongoing human search for God. “It’s all about openin’ up,” he concluded. “It’s all about openin’ up.”

What would happen if we all just opened up?

(Austin, TX)