I Can Only Imagine Read online

Over the next hour or so, the song gelled. We ended up cutting the entire song that day. So in about eighteen hours, “Imagine” went from an idea scribbled on a page to being a fully finished and recorded song.

  I knew I had finally written a song, using Mammaw Millard’s captivating line, about what I envisioned Dad’s experience in heaven must be like, but none of us had any idea that it might have a major impact on people. So we ended up putting “Imagine” as the fifth song on The Worship Project. We didn’t even add it into our worship set, although it was a vertical offering sung to God.

  Most worship songs have a single verse and a chorus—because a second verse doesn’t allow the song to fit on a single PowerPoint slide. One of MercyMe’s inside jokes has always been “Is it a 7–11 song?”—in other words, is it a song with a seven-word chorus that you can sing eleven times? Worship songs have always had a simpler structure than typical songs, so they are easy to sing along with. In contrast, “Imagine” had the regular song pattern of two verses and a bridge with a repeated chorus.

  So for a long time, “Imagine” was almost a secret. The song got zero attention from us or anyone else. Looking back now, it would have been so easy for it to stay hidden in the middle of that little independent record and never see the light of day. But God had another plan, for sure, far beyond what we would have ever dreamed possible.

  A Random Request

  When God wants something to happen, He always makes a way. I believe we call those miracles. Here is one of ours.

  In 2000, we were leading worship at a youth camp when someone asked us if we would play “Imagine” during the altar call. What? “Imagine”? The request took the entire band by surprise.

  We had never done the song live before, and we had never had anyone request that we play it. We always worked hard to accommodate the people where we served, so while the event’s speaker was preaching the message, we were backstage, going over everyone’s parts. We were learning how to play the song live literally half an hour before we went out to perform it.

  The preacher set up the invitation, and for the first time, we played “Imagine” in front of an audience. As the song ended, we all thought we had really blown it. Because of the bright stage lights, we couldn’t see the crowd’s reaction, and we were confused as to why it was so quiet. But just then, the house lights came up a bit, and, after our eyes adjusted, we saw the altar was covered with people who were on their knees, crying and embracing one another.

  We thought nothing had happened, but something definitely had. The Lord had used the song to touch people in a unique way. That was the genesis moment—the start of God using “Imagine” time and time again in countless situations all over the world.

  Almost from that moment, the song began gaining traction. Because of the strong response, we started singing “Imagine” at every event—and things began to change.

  Before releasing The Worship Project, if we sold a thousand CDs in a year, we thought we were doing amazing. But that next year, because of the popularity of the song, we sold 130,000. I had seen an interview with MC Hammer where he said that if you sell 100,000 CDs out of the trunk of your car at your shows, it was the same as selling a million while on a record label. For obvious reasons, I latched on to that comment.

  Now our audience was growing, and we started getting more and more attention. Bigger, more-established bands heard us at youth conferences and told their record labels to check us out. We made enough money to put everyone on salary, including health insurance. We even started our own 401(k)s. Believe me—those are highly unusual financial feats for any band.

  At the same time, our growth became overwhelming behind the scenes. We struggled to keep up with booking, management, publicity, CD and merchandise inventory, and marketing. Add traveling, playing more than two hundred dates a year, writing, and recording—we found ourselves weighed down with all the work that goes into keeping a band afloat aside from the two hours onstage every night. There was no relief in sight.

  Our old friend Brickell found out about “Imagine” and listened to it. And then he listened again. And again. Then he made a phone call to Mark Stuart of Audio A.

  Mark came to Brickell’s office, lay down on the floor with headphones on—in his classic laid-back, Stuart style—and listened to the track. Brickell watched him for a response, any response.

  Mark’s eyes were closed; he was into it. When the song ended, he sat there a moment before asking, “Bart wrote this?”

  “He did.”

  Mark just smiled, shook his head in a go-figure fashion, and said, “This is really an amazing song.”

  Brickell laughed. “I know. I can’t stop listening to it.”

  Mark decided that he would make it his mission to get our band signed to a record label. True to his word, with Brickell’s watchful guidance, he went to all the major labels—and got turned down.

  For MercyMe, this was just the same song, second verse. We had been down this road before; now a major artist and manager were going to bat for us, and still nothing was connecting. But in a plot twist that none of us could see coming, God had something waiting right around the corner.

  Providential Phone Call #1

  MercyMe was in Des Moines, Iowa, leading worship at a weekend student conference. At the time, we had a band cell phone that we all shared. During a break at the event, our phone rang. I saw it was a 615 area code, so I knew it was a Nashville number. When I answered, the woman on the other end said, “Is this Bart Millard? Hey, this is Amy Grant.”

  I laughed. This had to be a joke by one of my prankster friends—probably one of the guys in the band getting me back for something I had pulled in the past. So I promptly hung up.

  And then the cell rang again. Same number.

  In that heart-racing moment, I thought, Oh, man, I might have actually just laughed at and hung up on my hero.

  I answered, and Amy quickly said, “Bart, it’s really me, Amy Grant—don’t hang up! Hey, I heard your song, and I love it. I really want to record it, release it as a single to radio, and put it on my next album.”

  I was completely shocked. “I appreciate this so much,” I said, “but I’ll need to talk this over with the band. I will call you back as soon as possible.”

  When I told the guys that Amy Grant wanted to record “Imagine,” they didn’t believe me at all. Like me, they thought it was a prank or a joke. And given my track record, who could blame them? Finally, I showed them the number on the phone, and they started freaking out as much as I was.

  We all saw, time and time again, the truth in Proverbs 19:21: “You can make many plans, but the Lord’s purpose will prevail” (nlt). We get lots of phone calls in our lives, but only a handful of those are life changing. That one was particularly special to me because it had God’s fingerprints all over it. Amy Grant, the queen of CCM—the singer who, with her angelic voice and words of peaceful comfort, had gotten me through so many moments of pain when I was younger—called Bart Millard, the kid from Greenville, Texas, who sings in a little indie worship band. Her music had been a major lifeline for me when I was a kid, and she was now going to record my song—my dad’s song.

  The band had told me that the decision regarding the song was up to me since I was the sole writer. But honestly, I never thought twice about signing “Imagine” over to her. We had already released another independent album titled Look that we were busy promoting. And anything Amy records is going to do well and travel far, given how many of her songs are now part of classic CCM history.

  As the news of Amy’s offer got out around Nashville, guess what happened? The same Christian labels that had turned us down at least twice before started calling. “Hey, we heard Amy is cutting one of your songs,” they’d say. “We need to talk to you guys again.”

  Providential Phone Call #2

  By this time, Shannon and I were shipping MercyMe product from our garage to around four hundred Christian bookstores. The increased interest in the band a
nd the calls from labels in Nashville only added to our exhaustion. We were doing everything ourselves, and I knew it was time to get some help.

  I called Mark Maxwell, a music lawyer we had gotten to know when we were in Nashville. I knew he believed in MercyMe. I told him everything that was going on and explained that we desperately needed help. He suggested I call a respected guy in the CCM industry named Jeff Moseley. Mark was clear that Jeff would likely turn us down—he dealt with much bigger artists—but he said I should start with him as the best first try.

  We did a little checking and found out that Jeff had been in Christian music for more than twenty years and had held the positions of general manager of Myrrh Records and president of Reunion Records, Star Song Records, and Benson Records. He had been at the helm of several major Christian labels and in charge of many high-profile and bestselling projects.

  But Jeff was growing weary of the traditional model and was ready to do something unique. In 1999 he started his own label, working with established artists, which is exactly why Mark figured he wouldn’t talk to us. What no one else knew was that Jeff was looking for new, unsigned artists who were already walking out their calling from God, and who wanted to be in a partnership with a label, not just have someone dictate what they did in their careers. We wanted to maintain creative control and pay for our projects ourselves, and we wanted a label to come alongside us to focus on what they do best—radio promotion, marketing to the masses, and distribution to the stores.

  Providential Phone Call #3

  To my surprise, I got through to Jeff on the first try. I told him what we were hoping to find in a label. He told me that he was on another line and needed to put me on hold for a minute to wrap up the other call. The reason that little detail is important is that he was on a call with his wife, and—right as I was calling in—he had asked her to pray that God would bring him clarity on his new venture “even if He has to call me on the phone Himself.” (That’s so God, right?)

  He came back on the line and asked me to tell him the entire MercyMe story. I told him everything, including our Christian bookstore sales numbers. Later he called about fifty stores and verified the numbers I gave him. Everything checked out.

  Jeff and I talked on a Thursday, and I FedExed him The Worship Project CD for a Friday-morning delivery. I included a note about two or three songs for him to focus on. As he played “Imagine” for his wife that weekend, he told her, “I want to sign this band, and I think we’re going to need to take out a second mortgage on our house to fund this. Are you okay with that?” She agreed, and he booked a flight to Texas for Tuesday.

  With the entire band sitting in my living room and listening intently, Jeff explained the vision for his label and how we could work together. If we’d had any doubts before, they were gone now. He removed every downside of us signing with him.

  We had found the perfect fit with a record label. It all made sense to everyone. Had we signed a multiyear deal with any of those other companies, this would never have happened. God connected the dots for us once again.

  Jeff told us if we were going to have a record deal with his company, we would need to have an official manager who knew all the aspects of the industry well—someone who would provide oversight and creative focus, put legs to our dreams, and represent all aspects of the business end of our careers. (As Brickell always says, “Managing artists is a lot like herding cats.”) Jeff had no idea that an established veteran like Brickell had been helping us and that he already had a seat on our bus, so to speak. We called Brickell right away to tell him about Jeff’s plan—and he was ready.

  So in 2001, seven years after our mountaintop-call-from-God moment in the Swiss Alps, we signed our first record contract with newly formed INO Records (known as Fair Trade Services today), with Jeff Moseley running point. We also signed a management agreement with the guy who had already served us so graciously for free for so many years. Brickell hit the ground running and connected us with Mike and Lisa Snider at Third Coast Artist Agency to handle all the booking of our tours and live events. A great agency with a network of relationships can put your band into places you could never book yourself. At that time, TCAA’s major acts were Skillet, Caedmon’s Call, and Bebo Norman, so we were excited and humbled to be on their roster.

  In His way and in His timing, God had now put all the pieces in place for MercyMe to make the best music we could with the best team on the planet. More than fifteen years later, we’re still with the same key people—Brickell, Jeff, and Mike. That’s an anomaly in the music business. But God specializes in creating those, doesn’t He?

  Small World, Big God

  Several years after we had been working with Brickell, we were all hanging out and started swapping back-in-the-day stories about other CCM artists. I told one from when I was in junior high, around the same time Dad had checked out on me and told me he no longer cared what I did. I had entered a local singing contest, and the winner got to sing one song as the opener for a touring Christian artist who was coming through town. The winner, along with a friend, also got to eat pizza with the singer before the show. Well, I entered, won, and took Kent with me.

  The artist had a young guy with him, acting as road manager, who was carrying his gear, setting up, and running sound. During dinner, Kent and I quietly made fun of the artist’s latest album title, because we thought it was really cheesy. One of us would say something at normal volume, then mutter the line under our breath to each other, followed by a giggle in that annoying way that only junior high boys can. The artist was paying zero attention to us anyway.

  Saying how I had made one final joke to Kent, I was building everyone in the room up to my punch line, when Brickell suddenly interrupted me.

  “Then a piece of pepperoni flew across the table and hit you right in the middle of the forehead, just like David’s stone hit Goliath, right?”

  I was speechless and shocked, and it’s hard to get me to be either.

  I blurted, “Yeah! How in the world could you know that?”

  Brickell just grinned in his classic possum style and said, “’Cause I was the guy who threw it at you! I heard what you both were saying about his album, and I was ready to put a stop to it. I was the road manager for that artist.”

  That Christian artist was Brian Becker, who we later became friends with, and we’ve all laughed together about this story. For the record, Brian made fun of that album too.

  It is indeed a small world, is it not? Only God could have had Brickell and me unknowingly cross paths way back then, during one of the worst times of my life. Brickell was working with a touring artist, and I was opening the concert as a singer—ten years before we would meet again in exactly the same roles. But the next time, no flying pepperoni was involved.

  Ten

  KEEP SINGING

  But when I am stuck and I can’t move,

  When I don’t know what I should do,

  When I wonder if I will make it through,

  I gotta keep singing, I gotta keep praising Your name.

  —MERCYME, “KEEP SINGING,” FROM UNDONE (2004)*

  With Jeff at INO Records now in the mix, we decided that Amy would press on with recording “Imagine,” but we would also put it on our first major-label release. Then, when Amy sent the song to Christian radio, we would simultaneously send our first single—a different song—spinning it as a new release “from the band that brought you Amy Grant’s hit song ‘I Can Only Imagine.’”

  There was just one glitch with this plan. It was exactly that—our plan. When you are dealing with major-league, legendary-level, high-demand artists who have a big machine behind them, everything moves slowly. Very slowly. MercyMe had once written, recorded, and released two albums in one year, so we were accustomed to knocking things out—or kicking butt and taking names, as we say in Texas. We learned the hard way that is not reality in the world of professional music.

  An Afternoon with Amy

  While we wer
e sitting impatiently in the music industry’s metaphorical waiting room, Amy called and offered to fly Shannon and me to Nashville to visit with her and her record producer, Brown Bannister, in the recording studio where “Imagine” was being cut. I was a huge fan of Brown’s work, as I had listened to all the artists whose projects he had produced over the years. Bottom line, I was going to have the privilege of sitting down with two of my musical heroes.

  Shannon and I flew into Nashville, and Brickell picked us up at the airport. We drove to Franklin, a historic suburb just south of the city. Amy’s project was being produced in the famous Sound Kitchen studio, where so many amazing Christian albums—ones I had owned and listened to countless times—have been recorded.

  Amy wasn’t there when we arrived, but Brown wanted to go ahead and play me the track so I could hear what had been recorded to get an idea of the song’s sound. He hit Play, and from out of the studio’s mega-speakers, this huge, anthem-like version of “Imagine” roared into the room. By the time the final note faded away, I was in absolute awe.

  Brown said, “You’ll have to forgive me for the track still being kind of bare. The London Symphony Orchestra hasn’t been added yet.”

  I had no idea how to respond, but I was thinking, What am I doing here, and what is happening right now? Let’s just say that Brown’s track sounded way better than anything we had produced in the day-care center in Oklahoma City or in the Sunday school room in Texas. (If this were a text, I’d insert the crying-laughing emoji here.)

  By that point, Amy had slipped into the room and was standing behind us. Brown smiled, and I knew that she must be here. I turned around to face Amy and her manager, Jennifer Cooke.

  I was starstruck, dumbfounded, and any other word for “out of my mind” you want to insert here. I think I said something like, “You’re Bart and I’m Miss Amy. . . . No, wait, I’m sorry. Well . . . you know who you are. . . . I’m Bart and this is my wife, Shannon.”