Vince Gill is a country singer with an impressive resume; boasting the most Grammy Awards ever won by a male country music singer and more than 20 albums to his name.
Gill who was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2007, first came to our attention as a member of country rock band Pure Prairie League in 1979.
Four decades later he is a much-loved and much in demand performer who was invited to sing on the legendary Grand Ole Opry stage alongside the band Little Big Town.
But bosses told him he could perform on one condition — he didn’t sing about Jesus.
So how could anyone deny this talented, brilliant artist the right to sing the song he wanted at a performance?
His response caused the crowd to jump to their feet.
Gill, who was born in Oklahoma in 1957, became a solo artist in the ’80s. In recent years the devout christian has incorporated more gospel music into his appearances.
Recently he was invited to perform at the Grand Ole Opry, in Nashville Tennessee, a weekly country music stage concert which has been going since 1925.
But bosses said he could perform as long as he didn’t do any religious songs, namely about Jesus.
Gill could have adhered to this instruction ignoring his instinct to want to sing about his faith. But instead he did something different.He ignored these rules and instead sang “Why Me Lord,” a powerful song written and recorded by American country music artist and gospel singer Kris Kristofferson in 1972.
Since, the song has been performed by musical greats such as Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash.
Gill’s performance resulted in a standing ovation showing that nobody else really cared what the song was about but how moving the performance was.
See a clip of him performing in the video below.
Gill’s decision to perform a song true to his faith and musical style is truly brave, and not everyone would have had the guts to defy orders this way.
Then again, when you’re in the Country Music Hall of Fame, you get to make your own rules sometimes!
What do you think of his performance? Feel free to comment on our Facebook page and don’t forget to share with your friends and family.
My Stepdaughter Insisted I Reassign All Her Deceased Father’s Possessions into Her Name – I Complied, Yet She Was Unpleased
The emptiness of George’s departure permeates their residence, his presence enduring in the shirt Mariana grips nightly. However, it wasn’t his passing that devastated her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s insistence on inheriting his wealth. When she reluctantly agreed, an unexpected twist left Susan enraged and Mariana strangely content.
Progressing past the death of a dear one is always challenging. At times, I still sense my husband George’s voice echoing in my mind. I awaken holding his cherished shirt, his fragrance still clinging to the material. Yet, as I mourned him, my stepdaughter’s actions… they utterly broke me…
I am Mariana, aged 57, wed to the kindest man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, aged 34, from an earlier marriage.
Our bond with Susan was once good. She addressed me as “Mom” and filled the gap in my heart from not bearing my own children. I never viewed her as “another’s” child. I cherished her as my own daughter, truly.
When Susan wed her chosen partner, George and I were thrilled. But then, everything deteriorated when George received a terminal cancer diagnosis.
Susan’s visits reduced from weekly to monthly, then ceased entirely. She seldom visited her father, occasionally phoning to inquire about his health.
One day, she posed a question that tore me apart. “How long does he have left?”
Clutching the phone tightly, my voice shook. “Susan, your father isn’t an item with an expiration date.”
“I just need to know, Mom. I’m swamped, you know that… I can’t come by often,” she responded.
“Swamped?” I repeated, my tone filled with disbelief. “Too swamped to visit your dying father?”
She exhaled deeply. “Look, I’ll attempt to come soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never materialized.
Then, the dreaded day arrived. The hospital informed me that George had passed away peacefully.
I was devastated, barely able to stand as the reality sank in. My beloved George, gone.
Shockingly, Susan didn’t attend his funeral. When I called her, she promptly excused herself.
“I’m expecting, Mom,” she stated, her tone strangely indifferent. “The doctors advised against lengthy travel due to some medical concerns.”
I swallowed hard, holding back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you wish to bid him farewell one last time?”
“I can’t jeopardize my baby’s health,” she curtly replied. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not truly, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, dear. Take care.”
As I sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t dismiss the notion that our relationship had irrevocably changed.
Six months post-George’s death, I was startled by a loud knock at my door. Opening it, I saw Susan and her husband Doug, along with a severe-looking man in a suit.
Susan entered without greeting. “Mom, we need your signature on some documents.”
Baffled, I blinked. “Which documents?”
Doug handed me a stack of papers, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. They’re for transferring all the properties into our names.”
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