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- Author: Marc Reklau
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About the Book
"30 Days - Change Your Habits, Change Your Life" by Marc Reklau is a self-help book that offers a practical 30-day plan to help readers break bad habits and establish healthier, more productive habits. The book provides actionable strategies and tips to help individuals transform their lives and achieve their goals by making small changes each day.
Johnny Cash
Johnny Cash, the Man in Black, was a singer, guitarist and songwriter whose music innovatively mixed country, rock, blues and gospel influences.
Who Was Johnny Cash?
Johnny Cash grew up in a poor farming community and joined the Air Force in 1950. He co-founded a band following his discharge, and within a few years Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two had scored hits with songs like "Walk the Line." Cash's career was nearly derailed in the 1960s by a serious substance-abuse problem, but his marriage to June Carter and acclaimed album Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison (1968) put him back on track. In later years, Cash joined the country supergroup the Highwaymen and released a series of recordings with producer Rick Rubin.
Early Life
Cash was born on February 26, 1932, in Kingsland, Arkansas. The son of poor Southern Baptist sharecroppers, Cash, one of seven children born to Ray and Carrie Rivers Cash, moved with his family at the age of 3 to Dyess, Arkansas, so that his father could take advantage of the New Deal farming programs instituted by President Franklin Roosevelt. There, the Cash clan lived in a five-room house and farmed 20 acres of cotton and other seasonal crops.
Cash spent much of the next 15 years out in the fields, working alongside his parents and siblings to help pay off their debts. It wasn't an easy life, and music was one of the ways the Cash family found escape from some of the hardships. Songs surrounded the young Cash, be it his mother's folk and hymn ballads, or the working music people sang out in the fields.
From an early age Cash, who began writing songs at age 12, showed a love for the music that enveloped his life. Sensing her boy's gift for song, Carrie scraped together enough money so that he could take singing lessons. However, after just three lessons his teacher, enthralled with Cash's already unique singing style, told him to stop taking lessons and to never deviate from his natural voice.
Religion, too, had a strong impact on Cash's childhood. His mother was a devout member of the Pentecostal Church of God, and his older brother Jack seemed committed to joining the priesthood until his tragic death in 1944 in an electric-saw accident. The experiences of his early farming life and religion became recurring themes in Cash's career.
Military Service and Musical Aspirations
In 1950, Cash graduated high school and left Dyess to seek employment, venturing to Pontiac, Michigan, for a brief stint at an auto body plant. That summer he enlisted in the U.S. Air Force as "John R. Cash"—military regulations required a full first name—and he was sent for training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, where he met future wife Vivian Liberto. For the bulk of his four years in the Air Force, Cash was stationed in Landsberg, West Germany, where he worked as a radio intercept officer, eavesdropping on Soviet radio traffic.
It was also in Germany that Cash began to turn more of his attention toward music. With a few of his Air Force buddies, he formed the Landsberg Barbarians, giving Cash a chance to play live shows, teach himself more of the guitar and take a shot at songwriting. "We were terrible," he said later, "but that Lowenbrau beer will make you feel like you're great. We'd take our instruments to these honky-tonks and play until they threw us out or a fight started."
After his discharge in July 1954, Cash married Vivian and settled with her in Memphis, Tennessee, where he worked, as best he could, as an appliance salesman. Pursuing music on the side, Cash teamed up with a couple of mechanics, Marshall Grant and Luther Perkins, who worked with Cash's older brother Roy. The young musicians soon formed a tight bond, with the crew and their wives often heading over to one of their houses to play music, much of it gospel.
Cash, who banged away on an old $5 guitar he'd purchased in Germany, became the frontman for the group, and they honed their unique synthesis of blues and country-and-western music through live performances. "He was a decent singer, not a great one," wrote Marshall Grant, in his 2006 autobiography, I Was There When it Happened: My Life with Johnny Cash. "But there was power and presence in his voice."
Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two
In July 1954, another Memphis musician, Elvis Presley, cut his first record, sparking a wave of Elvis-mania as well as an interest in the local producer, Sun Records owner Sam Phillips, who had issued the record. Later that year Cash, Grant and Perkins made an unannounced visit to Sun to ask Phillips for an audition. The Sun Records owner gave in and Cash and the boys soon returned to show off their skills. Phillips liked their sound but not their gospel-driven song choices, which he felt would have a limited market, and asked them to return with an original song.
The trio did just that, beginning work on the Cash-written "Hey Porter," shortly that first Sun session. Phillips liked that song, as well as the group's follow-up effort, "Cry, Cry, Cry," and signed the newly branded Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two. "Hey Porter" was released in May 1955 and later that year "Cry, Cry, Cry" peaked at No. 14 on the Billboard charts.
Other hits followed, including the Top 10 tracks "So Doggone Lonesome" and "Folsom Prison Blues." But true fame arrived in 1956 when Cash wrote and released "I Walk The Line," which catapulted to No. 1 on the country music charts and sold 2 million copies. He released his debut album, Johnny Cash with His Hot & Blue Guitar in 1957, and cemented his fame with chart-toppers like "Ballad of a Teenage Queen" and "Don't Take Your Guns to Town."
Drugs and Divorce
By the early 1960s, Cash, who had relocated his family to California and left Sun for Columbia Records, was a musical superstar. On the road for 300 nights a year with the group now known as the Tennessee Three, he was often accompanied by June Carter, who co-wrote what became one of the Man in Black's signature songs, "Ring of Fire" (1963). Cash also sought to establish himself as an actor, starring in the movie Five Minutes to Live (1961) and a few Western-themed TV programs.
But the schedule and the pressures that faced him took a toll on his personal life. Drugs and alcohol were frequent tour companions while Vivian, left home to take care of their family, which now included daughters Rosanne (b. 1955), Kathy (b. 1956), Cindy (b. 1959) and Tara (b. 1961) grew increasingly frustrated with her husband's absence. In 1966, she finally filed for divorce.
Cash's personal life continued to spiral out of control. The following year, after a serious drug binge, Cash was discovered in a near-death state by a policeman in a small village in Georgia. There were other incidents, too, including an arrest for smuggling amphetamines into the United States across the Mexican border, and for starting a forest fire in a California park. "I took all the drugs there are to take, and I drank," Cash recalled. "Everybody said that Johnny Cash was through 'cause I was walkin' around town 150 pounds. I looked like walking death."
Remarriage and Revival
Cash got the lifeline he needed from his old touring companion, June Carter, who helped him refocus on his Christian faith and get the drug addiction treatment he needed. The two were married on March 1, 1968.
With his new wife, Cash embarked on a remarkable turnaround. In 1969, he began hosting The Johnny Cash Show, a TV variety series that showcased contemporary musicians ranging from Bob Dylan to Louis Armstrong. It also provided a forum for Cash to explore a number of social issues, tackling discussions that ranged from the war in Vietnam to prison reform to the rights of Native Americans.
The same year his show debuted, Cash also took home two Grammy Awards for the live album Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison (1968). A critical and commercial success, the album was credited with helping to revive the artist's popularity. In early 1970, Cash and Carter experienced more joy with the birth of their first and only child, John Carter Cash.
The ensuing decade offered up more success for the artist, as Cash's music career flourished with the release of hit singles like "A Thing Called Love" (1972) and "One Piece at a Time" (1976). He also co-starred with Kirk Douglas in A Gunfight (1970), wrote music for the feature Little Fauss and Big Halsy (1970) and published a best-selling autobiography, Man in Black (1975). In 1980, he became the youngest living person to be elected to the Country Music Hall of Fame.
Cash continued to maintain a busy schedule, and he increasingly teamed up with other musicians. In 1986, he banded with old Sun Records colleagues Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis and Roy Orbison to record the widely popular compilation The Class Of '55. Meanwhile, he joined forces with fellow country stalwarts Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings to form the Highwaymen, which released three studio albums between 1985 and 1995. In the early 1990s, Cash stepped into the studio with U2 to record The Wanderer, a track that would appear on the group's 1993 release, Zooropa.
Throughout this time, though, Cash's health problems and his continued battles with addiction were nearby. After undergoing abdominal surgery in 1983, he checked himself into the Betty Ford Clinic. In 1988, Cash again went under the knife, this time for double-bypass heart surgery.
But, like always, Cash pushed on. He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1992, and in 1994 he teamed with music producer Rick Rubin to release American Recordings. A 13-track acoustic album that mixed traditional ballads with modern compositions, American Recordings earned Cash a new audience and a 1995 Grammy Award for Best Contemporary Folk Album. He followed with another Rubin-produced album, Unchained (1996), and in 1997 he published his second memoir, Cash: The Autobiography.
Final Years, Death and Legacy
Cash's physical health became more of an issue in the late 1990s. He was diagnosed with the neurodegenerative disease Shy-Drager syndrome—a misdiagnosis that was later corrected to autonomic neuropathy—and was hospitalized for pneumonia in 1998.
Still, the artist continued making music. In 2002, he released American IV: The Man Comes Around, a mix of originals and covers, including songs from the Beatles to Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails. The album, recorded at the Cash Cabin Studio in Hendersonville, Tennessee, was the fourth Cash-Rubin compilation.
Over the next year, Cash's health continued to decline. He was devastated when his longtime love, June Carter, died in May 2003, but he continued to work. With Rubin at his side, the singer recorded what would become American V: A Hundred Highways. Just a week before his death on September 12, 2003, from complications associated with diabetes, Cash wrapped up his final track.
"Once June passed, he had the will to live long enough to record, but that was pretty much all," Rubin later recalled. "A day after June passed, he said, 'I need to have something to do every day. Otherwise, there's no reason for me to be here.'"
That November, Cash was posthumously honored at the CMA annual awards, winning best album for American IV, best single and best video. In 2005, the story of his life and career through the late 1960s was made into a feature film, Walk the Line, starring Joaquin Phoenix as Cash and Reese Witherspoon as Carter.
In 2006, fans were treated to new music from the late artist. May brought Personal File, a two-CD set of unreleased material recorded decades earlier. In July, American V: A Hundred Highways was unveiled. Starkly arranged and sometimes mournful, the songs highlighted Cash's older and rougher sounding voice, which seared with a raw honesty.
Not surprisingly, Cash's influence continued to resonate. In 2007, the community of Starkville, Mississippi, paid honor to the performer and his arrest there in 1965 for public intoxication with the Johnny Cash Flower Pickin' Festival. The following year, the late artist won another Grammy, for Best Short Form Music Video for God's Gonna Cut You Down.
"I think he'll be remembered for the way he grew as a person and an artist," wrote Kris Kristofferson in 2010, upon Cash's selection by Rolling Stone magazine as the 31st greatest artist of all time. "He went from being this guy who was as wild as Hank Williams to being almost as respected as one of the fathers of our country. He was friends with presidents and with Billy Graham. You felt like he should've had his face on Mount Rushmore."
In 2010, additional material from recording sessions with Rubin were released as American VI: Ain't No Grave. In December 2013, it was revealed that another album from Cash had been unearthed. Out Among the Stars, which had been recorded in the early 1980s but never released by Columbia Records, was discovered by John Carter Cash in his father's archives. Underscoring the singer's sustained popularity, the album became a chart-topper following its release in March 2014.
Mastery Clothed in Humility: The Extraordinary Life of John Ryland
John Ryland (1753–1825) published his first book at age 12 — an accomplishment not nearly as impressive as the fact that he had learned to read Hebrew by age 4, had translated the entire Greek New Testament at 8, and was proficient in Latin and French by 11. By any account, his life was astonishingly productive. Ryland pastored two of the most prominent Baptist churches in England, served as a college president and professor, mobilized Dissenting Christians to the cause of abolition with MP William Wilberforce (1759–1833), and founded two missions societies (the Baptist Missionary Society and the interdenominational London Missionary Society) — all before his fortieth birthday. Between his missions advocacy, his passion for theological training, his love for the exposition of Scripture, his zeal for church planting and strengthening, and the invitations from students he shaped at Bristol Academy, Ryland preached no fewer than 8,691 sermons in 286 different locations. Perhaps of greatest consequence, long after his death, Ryland’s family spoke of his unimpeachable integrity and his tender and attentive presence as a husband and father. Yet despite his industrious and tireless efforts, Ryland never ascended to the star status of others in his orbit — George Whitefield (1714–1770), John Wesley (1703–1791) and his brother Charles (1707–1788), Andrew Fuller (1754–1815), or William Carey (1761–1834). In all likelihood, you’ve never heard of him. Ryland, most likely, would have had it so. Auspicious Beginnings It didn’t start out that way, however. Intellectually gifted and curious by nature, Ryland was decidedly on the path to celebrity from his youth. His father, J.C. (1723–1792), an eccentric but personable man, made use of his wide network of prominent friends to fan his son’s talents to public flame. As a child, Ryland’s home was host to Whitefield, John Wesley, inimitable theologian John Gill (1697–1771), and all manner of prominent pastors and thinkers. The elder Ryland, himself an author of seventeen books and numerous articles, was eager to see John ascend to a status and usefulness he himself was never quite able to achieve. So, in 1767, J.C.’s ambition to get his preteen son’s work into print came to fruition. The book, a collection of poems, was the first of five volumes to be published over as many years. The poetry itself is lackluster, but Ryland’s remarkable intellect and profound grasp of the Scriptures shine through. Given John’s talents and formation, though, perhaps it is no surprise that an inordinate pride lurked not far from the surface as well. Spared by Amazing Grace Mercifully, Ryland was spared cataclysm through the kindness of a forthright friend nearly thirty years his senior — a former slave-ship captain turned Anglican pastor named John Newton (1725–1807). Many years before, the young sailor’s detestable ways and arrogant mockery of Christianity had been dramatically upended. Left behind by his ship and crew in West Africa, Newton was himself enslaved and spent three years in bondage, sickness, and poverty. As Newton later recounted, this profound humiliation ultimately delivered him from his arrogance and softened the ground for his conversion. “In all likelihood, you’ve never heard of John Ryland. He, most likely, would have had it so.” Perhaps it was the stark deliverance from a life of high-handed sin that forged Newton’s deep suspicion of pride. Perhaps it was the rescue from slavery or deliverance from near-shipwreck on the open sea. Whatever the cause, Newton was seized by the profound grace of redemption in Christ and struck by the humility that permeated Jesus’s mission and ministry. He marveled over the profound self-humbling of Jesus — that the One worthy of all glory “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). On account of this, humility became the predominate characteristic of his life, and Newton sought every opportunity to cultivate it in the life of fellow Christians. “Above all things,” Newton wrote, “we should pray for humility. It may be called both the guard of all other graces, and the soil in which they grow” (The Works of John Newton, 694). Humility and love, he argued, “are the highest attainments in the school of Christ, and the brightest evidences that he is indeed our Master” (62). Gracious Rebuke In April of 1771, Newton grew concerned about Ryland after several of the teenager’s essays were published in The Gospel Magazine, along with a glowing commendation from the magazine’s editors. Newton wrote that, contrary to appearance, the editors had harmed John by fueling the temptation of pride. “I love you as well and wish you success,” Newton wrote, “but durst not have addressed you in their words, if I had thought ever so highly of your [work].” “As a real friend,” he continued, “I shall mix my approbation with a gentle censure of some things that I wish had been otherwise.” Newton assured his young friend that, with humility, he would have “considerable usefulness” for gospel ministry, and he took direct aim at what threatened to wreck it before it began. You say, “I have aimed to displease the Arminians.” I had rather you had aimed to be useful to them, than to displease them. There are many Arminians who are so only for want of clearer light. . . . Now, these should not be displeased by our endeavoring to declare truth in the terms most offensive to them which we can find, but rather we should seek out the softest and most winning way of encountering their prejudices. . . . You will perhaps say, “An humble Arminian! Surely that is impossible.” I believe that it is not more impossible to find a humble Arminian than a proud and self-sufficient Calvinist. The doctrines of grace are humbling, that is in their power and experience, but a man may hold them all in notion, and be very proud. He certainly is so, if he thinks his assenting to them is a proof to his humility and despises others as proud and ignorant in comparison with himself. (John Newton’s Letters to John Ryland, 15) “Extraordinarily gifted people often collapse under the weight of unchecked hubris. Pride is the fault in our stars.” Two centuries before someone aptly coined the term “cage-stage Calvinist,” such men existed in the world — and young Ryland was one. Newton identifies the unique species of pride that too frequently blinds heirs of the Reformed faith. The gracious nature of God’s unshakable call in election, the irresistible reality of Spirit-transformed affections, the efficacy of Christ’s atoning work to justify all whom he calls, the constancy of God’s preserving grace in the life of faith, should result in profound humility. Yet, as Newton saw in Ryland, sometimes those who see truth most clearly are the most susceptible to blinding pride. Freed from Celebrity Selfish ambition has a way of disordering that which ought to make us humble (James 3:16). But seeing all that we have and all that we are in Christ frees us from clamoring for significance in the eyes of others. When we see the joy to be found in magnifying Christ, we can say with the apostle, “I must decrease” (John 3:30). “I hope your soul prospers,” Newton wrote Ryland, “that is, I hope you are less and less in your own eyes and that your heart is more and more impressed with a sense of the glory and grace of our Lord. . . . Your comfort and success eminently depend upon your being humble, and if the Lord loves you and has sent you, he will find ways and means to humble you” (Letters, 16). Newton’s letter — gracious, yet direct — had profound impact. Renewed in his identity in Christ, Ryland was freed from the need for celebrity. He immediately softened the tone of his essays and sent them for reprinting. It would be the last thing he published for eight years — despite the fact that his pastoral ministry during this period was substantial (he preached 217 times in 1776 alone). Ryland was so concerned that his youthful arrogance not be imitated by others that, near the end of his life, he even asked his family to destroy anything he had written (but held back from publication) before the age of 30. Even when he returned to print in 1780, it was a single sermon issued at the request of fellow pastors in his region addressing — fittingly — God’s gracious purposes in overcoming human pride. Clothed with Humility Apart from his conversion, Ryland’s early lesson in humility was the most significant turning point in his life. Writing to his dear friend and fellow minister, John Sutcliff, Ryland confessed, “You complain of self and pride; I join you in the complaint.” He had learned by experience what he youthfully penned in one of his earlier essays: T’ exalt the great Creator, and abase the haughtiness of man’s polluted race. His gentle and humble ministry would become a striking contrast to the outspoken and unrestrained character of his father’s (and many others of his era). Robert Hall, Ryland’s successor at Broadmead Baptist Church, noted that Ryland’s “disposition to conceal his attainments was nearly as strong as that of some men to display them.” “His mental opulence,” Hall continued, “was much greater than his modesty would permit him to reveal” (Works of Robert Hall, 5:404). Despite Ryland’s impressive administrative, prophetic, literary, and theological mastery, “his religion appeared in its fruits; in gentleness, humility, and benevolence; in a steady, conscientious performance of every duty; and a careful abstinence from every appearance of evil.” Humility was “the most remarkable feature of his character,” Hall wrote, “and he might most truly be said, in the language of Scripture, to be clothed with it” (Works of Robert Hall, 5:392). State of Christian Celebrity History is replete with the stories of gifted men and women whose meteoric ascent to celebrity was followed by an equally dramatic humiliation. In nearly every instance, extraordinarily gifted people collapse under the weight of their own unchecked hubris. Pride is the fault in our stars. “Celebrity is ordinary — anybody can be famous. A lifetime of humble faithfulness is truly extraordinary.” As much as we might hope it weren’t the case, this is just as true in Reformed evangelicalism. One need not look far to see many of our stars’ long fall back to earth. The history of American evangelicalism and the powerful influence of popular culture have cultivated a troubling comfort with Christian celebrity. Additionally, contemporary theological education (and much discipleship) tends to emphasize knowledge acquisition over character formation. Thus, it should not be surprising that we tend to cultivate leaders with big heads and hollow chests. That’s why Ryland’s story is so timely. Newton’s gentle correction helped Ryland check selfish ambition and cultivate gospel-centered humility. Ryland experienced the freedom of not needing to be known — a freedom that fueled a remarkably productive and faithful life. There is nothing essentially wrong with celebrity. Perhaps, in some cases, it may be unavoidable. But celebrity is ordinary — anybody can be famous. A lifetime of humble faithfulness, like the life of John Ryland, is truly extraordinary. Article by Ryan Griffith