Biography
Ken Medema, from San Francisco, California, is a singer, songwriter and keyboard virtuoso. At a very early age, he demonstrated extraordinary musical ability—a gift made all the more remarkable because he has been blind from birth. He studied music therapy at Michigan State University and worked for a while in a psychiatric hospital, but his yearning to be a full-time songwriter and performer was very strong. This year Ken celebrates twenty-five years of life "on the road." He performs about 160 concerts a year, thrilling audiences with his ability to make them sense the sacred within themselves and in surprising places. [Biographical information is correct as of the broadcast date noted above.]

"The Kingdom in the Street" 
I  want to tell you about a dream. The dream begins with a real event in my life. I was just finishing my master's degree in music in college and I had been asked to sing the tenor solos in the performance of Messiah. Now, this was a big deal at Michigan State University! In my dream I can remember being on that stage and the orchestra beginning the introduction. My heart was beating so fast. This was my great moment...

Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people;
Comfort ye.

In the middle of the aria, suddenly I was accosted by a great wind. It howled around my face, it whistled around my back, and it lifted me right off the stage. I kicked and screamed and I said, "No. I've got to finish the aria. Please don't take me away from here!" And the wind blew and I sailed higher and higher until I was flying right out the back door of that auditorium. The wind would not let me go. I said to the wind, "Where are we going?"

And the wind said, "Listen to me, child, and I will tell you."

Come walk with me in the darkness,
And as we walk along;
I'll tell you quite a story,
And I'll sing you quite a song.
I'll sing about light and darkness,
About victory and defeat;
Corruption on the mountains,
And compassion in the streets.

For it's a long night,
And weary grow the feet that walked the long road,
But the morning will come sweet.
Yes, it's along night
And the Prince is in the streets tonight.

And suddenly the wind put me down and I was in the middle of the streets of a great and tumultuous city. The city was named Chaos and death was everywhere. Children with distended stomachs lay on the streets and vacuous teenagers stood on the corners wondering what to do with themselves. Old people rocked back and forth on their porches. The stench of death was everywhere. I could see that running through the middle of the city there was what used to be a river and now the river was dry. Between its banks was nothing but trash and weeds and refuse. A horrible place. I screamed at the wind, "Take me out of here! I can't stand to be here! I don't belong here!"

And the wind said, "Certainly, my child, I will remove you from this place."

The wind began to blow again and it lifted me high above the city streets. I said to the wind, "Where are we going now?"

The wind said, "Listen and I will tell you."

Now just outside that city of the blight and pain,
Is a holy mountain fortress where life seems calm and sane.
There is feasting there and singing by tranquil waterfalls,
And the street folks don't never come there,
Because they dare not climb the walls.

At the gateway to the fortress,
The Man of Sorrows cries.
A Prince in beggar's clothing,
With compassion in his eyes.
And the mountain folks they won't hear him,
So he'll turn his feet around.
And the ruler and the maker of the mountains
And the hills become the servants in the town.

For it's a long night,
And weary grow the feet that walked the long road,
But the morning will come sweet.
Yes, it's a long night
And the Prince is in the streets tonight.

Suddenly I was deposited on the top of a great and tall hill. There on the top of the hill was a holy mountain fortress cathedral. I could hear the bells ringing everywhere and the folk were all coming to worship. I said, "Yes! This is the place I want to be!" There were lovely houses all around the cathedral. There was a lake there that I knew had been made when the river that used to run through the city was dammed up. "I want to go in and worship," I said to the wind.

The wind shouted, "No. You will stay here." Then they closed the door of the holy mountain cathedral and I could hear in the background the music.

"May I please go in?" I said to the wind.

And agin the wind said, "No. You will stay here."

And then I saw him coming up the hill looking like a Man of Sorrows who bore the weight of all the world on his shoulders. And he sang these words:

If anybody would come after me,
Let him take up his cross and follow me.
If anybody would come after me,
Let him take up his cross and follow me.

Well, some of the people in the holy mountain fortress cathedral must have heard him because they came out the back door. They knelt at his feet and they said, "What shall we do?" They cried as if in abject sorrow. And he said with a smile on his face, "Get up, for we have great things to do in the city." And then he led them down the hill toward the city.

The wind said to me, "You will go, too."

I said, "No. I am afraid!"

The wind said, "You will go, too."

So I followed the little band into the city. There I saw all the things I had seen before, all the death and destruction, the vacuous teenagers, and the old people on the corners. But I saw something I had never seen before. A great banquet table was all set up in the city streets. There were hundreds of thousands of people sitting around the banquet table feasting and singing. There was great dancing and music everywhere. They were singing something like this:

When all of the world shall feast again,
Hurrah, hurrah;
Injustice and crime are ended then,
Hurrah, hurrah.
Then all the valleys with joy shall ring,
And all the people on Earth shall sing.
And we will not rest 'til all of the world shall feast.

When weapon is plow and hoe again,
Hurrah, hurrah;
Shall mercy like rivers flow again,
Hurrah, hurrah.
Then darkness shall be done away,
And we shall see salvation's day.
And we will not rest 'til weapon is plow and hoe
And we will not rest 'til all of the world shall feast.

And I along with the others sat at the table and enjoyed the great feast. Then it was that the Man of Sorrows came to me—to all of us who were gathered there at the table—and he said, "What will you do in my city?" To some who had the gift of building things he said, "Go build more tables so that there will be tables for everyone to enjoy my banquet. Go build shelters for the homeless and the hungry and the cold." To some who had the gift of telling, "Go and tell the story of my banquet table. Write it, fax it, send it on computers, put it on the telephone lines, put it everywhere that there is room at my table for everyone."

And then the Man of Sorrows gave to those who had the gift of disruption the assignment to go the holy mountain fortress and to break the dam which had blocked the river of life from running in the city. Then he came to me. "What will you do, son?"

I said, "I don't know. I don't belong here." I could hear the ringing of bells.

"Son, what will you do in my city?" said the Man of Sorrows.

"I don't know," I said, "I'm frightened! I would rather be up in the holy mountain fortress." The ringing of the bells was like the ringing of a death bell, the death of all the life I had known.

"What will you do in my city?" said the Man of Sorrows.

"I'm afraid!" I said. "I'm afraid!" I heard the ringing of the bell and suddenly the ringing of the bell became the ringing of the alarm bell on my bedside table. I shut off the alarm and I lay there for a long time thinking about the images in my dream, the Man of Sorrows, and the table in the city streets. Still I could hear the call: "What will you do in my city, my child?" So while I lay there in bed, I wrote my last verse to the song that the wind had taught me when we were flying high above the city streets.

Come see the kingdom coming,
Come see the victory day,
There will be no need for fortress walls,
For there is a better way.
The Prince will lift the lowly,
And the proud will know defeat,
Don't look for the kingdom on the mountain,
For it's coming in the street.

For it's a long night,
And weary grow the feet that walked the long road,
But the morning will come sweet.
Yes, it's a long night,
And the Prince is in the streets tonight.

Interview with Ken Medema
Interviewed by Lydia Talbot

Lydia Talbot: Ken, that was spectacular!

Ken Medema: Thank you.

Talbot: A powerful message, a profound message, and a compelling metaphor—the use of the wind—to tell us about the call to discipleship, isn't it?

Medema: Well, yes. Of course, one of the original Old Testament words for the Spirit of God is the wonderful Hebrew word, ruah, which means blast or wind of God. So it's a perfect image.

Talbot: How did you happen to connect the biblical mandate for the reduction of human suffering, inclusiveness, and creating a better world through music?

Medema: A couple of things. One, I have a wife who happens to be preacher and biblical scholar. We have thought about these issues ever since the mid 70's and have been trying to figure out symbols and stories that would help my audiences to grapple with these issues and yet still be metaphor. Metaphor always is more convincing than whacking people over the head with some Gospel doctrine!

Talbot: It's using your Brier Patch Music Productions to "comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable?"

Medema: That's right!

Talbot: Ken, you perform all around the country and the world...

Medema: About two hundred dates a year all over the world.

Talbot: Tell us about Call to Renewal?

Medema: One of the things that we are a part of is the Call to Renewal which is a broad based group of Christian organizations who have really come together to call the church to renewal and particularly to call the church to work on issues of homelessness, poverty, and justice. Around the country we are involved in some of the conferences that they have done. We were in Washington recently with 700 people gathered, representing some 600 organizations, to deal with the church and it's response to poverty. It's one of the most exciting things that we are a part of.

Talbot: And the most exciting part about it is that you are bringing people together who are Christians but who convey very different political positions.

Medema: We've got liberals, we've got conservatives, we've got middle-of-the-road people. It's amazing! They all come together around these issues because everybody knows if you aren't feeding the hungry and dealing with the homeless, you aren't doing the Bible. They know that.

Talbot: You have been blind since birth. You have never seen color and yet your images are extraordinarily brilliant. How do you imagine the images that you write and sing about?

Medema: First of all, a lot of my imagination is oral. I hear people talking about colors, so I get the oral connection. Plus, there is the tactile connection. When you say blue, I am swimming in the ocean. I am swimming in the blue water or I am floating in a sky. When you say red, I think of fire. I hear sirens, I think of anger, and I think of heat. I make all these multi-sensory connections. When you say green, I'm in a forest and I'm smelling the trees and the scent of the leaves. So there are all these olfactory, oral and tactile connections that I make. So when you say color, I have a whole other set of connections with it.

Talbot: And you have the gift to touch spots in the soul to truly bring people—all kinds of people from all kinds of places in the world—together.

Medema: I am grateful for that.

Talbot: There is something about that biblical vision. Where does that come from for you?

Medema: I have been driven by biblical visions for a long time. I love the Scripture. I love to read it, I love to study it, I love to play with it, and I love to ask it questions! My wife and I have spent years sitting in our living room on the couch reading this or that commentary or this or that biblical exegesis and having fun with it. It's just been fun for us. Those images have driven my work for years now.

Talbot: The Kingdom in the Streets. What a wonderful title! And the Prince of Sorrows. That touches us and that touches you personally, I can tell. You have won an award for this sacred concert?

Medema: We did a concert—this is part of a concert called "Backstage Pass" that we put on video. Actually, I will brag a little! Our little concert video done in a church in Tyler, Texas, won a Telly Award, which is a commercial video award. We are thrilled!

Talbot: Your next project?

Medema: I am working on a musical commissioned by a church in Denver. I'm also working on an album. I've got so many irons in the fire that I don't know which is going to happen first!

Talbot: What are you projecting? What is your vision as we look to the new millennium? How is that going to play out on the keys?

Medema: I don't know. I think there is going to be so much diversity, so much excitement, so much fear, so much new life, and so much anger and hatred. Who knows what it is going to be? It's going to be everything. Those of us who are Christians or who are religious folk at all have such a wonderful opportunity to meet the rage, to meet the anger, to meet the fear, and to embrace the diversity. It's going to be exciting!

Talbot: Ken, you are a gift of music and authentic ministry.

Medema: Thank you.

Talbot: Can you give us another song as we leave?

Medema: I would love to.

Is There a Place for Dreaming?

Is there a place for dreaming
In the corners of your mind;
In a world where dreams are broken down,
And dreamers hard to find?
Do you dream and weep sometimes about
the way that things should be?
Come dreaming with me, dreaming with me;
Admission is free.

Do you dream of another country now
Where there is no push and shove;
Where the rich don't rule and the poor will be fed,
And the only law is love, sweet love?
And where a neighbor is a real neighbor now,
And there is trust and loyalty?
Come dreaming with me, dreaming with me;
Admission is free.

When I was a child, I used to daydream a whole lot.
They told me that it would not last;
They said I wouldn't have time for such a waste of a good mind,
But my life really started moving fast.
Now that I'm grown, I find that life with no dreams
Is a hell that I simply refuse to bear.
And if it's alright, I'd like to open my mind,
And see if my dreams are still there.
My dreams are still there.

So it there a place for dreaming
In the corners of your mind;
In a world where dreams are broken down,
And dreamers hard to find?
Do you dream and weep sometimes
About the way that things should be?
Come dreaming with me, dreaming with me;
Admission is free.