Remembering Michael Jackson

I would be remiss if I did not take time to pay my respects to one of the greatest performer this world has ever known. Very few artists are known around the world like Michael Jackson was. He bridged that gap between black and white, young and old, and rich and poor. In addition, so many of his songs spoke to the humanitarian in us, the philanthropist in us, the adventurer in us, the dreamer in us, and the kid in us.


As a child, I grew up listening to the music of The Jackson Five. I first learned to Dance listening to "Dancing Machine." My very first album was that of the Jackson Five, and when I inadvertently broke it you could only imagine my disappointment, until my mom managed to secure another copy for me at a local garage sale. That purchase freed up an album cover in which I very carefully cut out Michael Jackson's picture and then begin to carry it around in my purse. The picture proved to be very handy when friends wanted to debate their devotion to Michael Jackson.


My bedroom wall would have been covered with Michael Jackson posters, but my mom and dad would only allow one or two posters on the wall at a time. So most of my posters of Michael were kept in a folder, which I would pull out every once in a while to admire the artist and my collection.


In the sixth grade, my classmates and I put on a dance routine in front of the entire school to the song "Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)." In a multi-cultural school in Utah, in the 70's, Michael Jackson's music had brought us together.


Every where I went in the U.S., in Europe and back, Michael Jackson's music was there. Even when I look back over my high school years, along side my year books there is the small collection of his albums, and all the memories that his songs bring to mind. Yet, when I saw him on television recently I did not recognize him as Michael Jackson. He had changed so drastically, and so had my thoughts toward him. Instead of praying for him, I questioned why he would want to drastically alter who God had created him to be. Tears did not come for me until old picture of him were shown. Then my thoughts mumbled "That's him, that's the Michael I remember." Then I wondered if he knew the Lord; if someone had taken the time to share the "Good News" with him. I want to believe he is a part of God's mass choir, and maybe the praise team: singing and dancing before the Lord our God. I also hope he has found the sleep, peace, and freedom that seemed to have eluded him here on earth.


I have marked Michael's death as a reminder to me to never be afraid to share my faith with someone. The thought of anyone spending the rest of eternity in hell is far more frightening to me than public speaking, or stepping up to share my faith.


May you rest in peace Michael Jackson; may your soul magnify the Lord; and may the legacy of your music survive in the hearts of our children, like it has settled in the hearts of your fans and will dwell there until we too have breathed our last breath.
Let us continue to pray for the Jackson family--their health and well being--and that each of them come to know Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.


To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born, And a time to die;
A time to plant, And a time to pluck what is planted; (Ecclesiastics 3:1-2)