Search - Dan Gilliam :: I Am Not Like God

Just when you think you knew a person....

Judith A. hillard | Phoenix, AZ USA | 03/16/2007

(5 out of 5 stars)

"I was a little girl when first I met Dan Gilliam. His father and mine both worked for Manhattan Christian College in Manhattan, KS. He was a year ahead of me in school and my most vivid memory of him was playing with his sister Dinah, and seeing/hearing him strumming his guitar alone, brooding, handsome and dark, in his bedroom, largely unaware of his sisters or their friends. In this later midlife season of our lives, I see him anew. I hear the lyrics to his music. I read the spirit living in his words, his articles, his book. I join him on his journey toward God; not necessarily the God of our childhood, preacher's kids who were weaned on the New Testament. But a God who cares about semi-colons and 3-part harmony, about kittens in Christmas trees and telling the truth even to police shining flashlights into our drunken eyes. We both lived the miracles. We both survived the relentless pursuit of addictions that left us alone, accountable but ill-equipped to do so with the guilt inherent in carrying the title of PK (preacher's kid). We both survived the war of our own self-destruction and learned the humility of stepping out of God's way so that He can show off a bit. In Dan's case, God has much room to gloat. He has given this one man the gifts of introspection, intellect, perfect or relative perfect pitch, sensitivity, humility, humanity, artism, truth and the courage to speak and sing and paint and live it. I am honored to know this man; this boy I once felt dreamy about when I saw his deep and troubled eyes. If only I could figure out my new red cell phone that attempts to fight AIDS in Africa, I would download "Just Say No" or "I am not like God" as a ring tone. Instead, I will buy each book he writes and each c.d. he produces and teach myself the sign language to accompany him, 3000 miles away, driving down the Arizona roads steering with my knees so I can sing with my voice and my hands with the top of my Volkswagen down so that when He hears me, God doesn't have to squint into the sunset. There but for His grace, I have been. Dan gives me the words to celebrate my survival and the hope that I too can find avenues with which to share my story. Godspeed to you, Dan."