“I’m going to say it one
more time, man. A Christmas album is the best option for you.” Ozi North leaned
back in his desk chair looking relaxed, but Matthew knew that the music
producer was frustrated with him. After his slip in an interview, his sales had
dropped and then continued in a downward trend. To make matters worse, people had
started a #boycottMatthewWhittier campaign on social media urging people not to
listen to any of his music.
Matthew propped his right
ankle on his left knee and sighed. “You know that isn’t going to happen, Ozi. I
can’t do it.”
Ozi shook his head. “You
are bound and determined to be the martyr in this situation, but this is the
mess you got yourself into. I’m offering you a way out, but you refuse to take
it.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his black desk. “No one even
wants to talk about supporting your next album. Your other option is to take a
sabbatical and pray to God that one day what you said will be forgiven and
forgotten so that you can make music again.”
Matthew ran a hand down
his face. A year ago, he had been one of the top selling Christian artists in
the nation. Crowded arenas had sung his songs with him in worship. Churches
regularly used his songs for their worship time. Now, no one wanted to hear
from him at all.
“How long can they hold a
grudge? It’s not like I committed some serious sin! All I said was that there
was nothing worth celebrating at Christmas.” Even as he repeated it, he didn’t
see anything wrong with what he said. Christmas was over-commercialized even
within the church. The holiday didn’t even take place during the time of year when
Jesus was most likely born. As far as he could tell, that day in December only
promoted self, greed, and indulgence.
Ozi sighed, and Matthew
took a moment to study the man who had been his mentor and supporter since the
beginning of his career. Ozi hadn’t seemed to age a bit in the ten years that
they had worked together. His black hair was done in cornrows tight against his
scalp. Black glasses framed his brown eyes and he had a goatee. His brown
fingers drummed a beat on top of his desk.
“That was only your
opening statement,” Ozi reminded Matthew. “If I remember correctly, you started
on a tirade that the interviewer had to cut off because you were getting a
little too – animated.”
Matthew shrugged. The
actual interview was a blur for him, and he had refused to watch it or listen
to it after it happened. To be honest, he had thought it would blow over faster
than it had.
“I’m entitled to my
opinion,” he said folding his arms across his chest.
“You certainly are, but
people generally don’t like to be called ‘dumb sheep’ and hear their pastors
called ‘wolves’ and ‘false teachers’ for ‘exploiting’ the birth of Jesus for
monetary gain.” Ozi looked down at some notes on his desk. “You also said that
anyone who bought gifts, had a tree, or listened to Christmas music should
question their Christianity, because they were worshiping the gods of
commercialism, greed, and comfort.”
While he didn’t remember
saying it, Matthew didn’t question that it had happened, because they were
thoughts he had often had before. He never went to church during the month of
December because of his strong feelings on the subject.
It wasn’t that he didn’t
think that the birth of Christ was important. He often read the accounts in the
gospels about the nativity, but never in December. It was better to keep it
separated from the taint of modern Christmas celebrations.
“It seems like we’re at
an impasse,” Matthew finally said. “You think the only way to get back into the
good graces of the industry is to do a Christmas album, and I refuse to do
that.”
Ozi grinned. “Why not?
You could release a new Christmas classic called Why Christmas is
Detrimental to Christianity and let’s not forget that great hit, Christmas
is for Suckers.”
“I’ve never said that!”
“I believe that was your
closing line before the interviewer cut you off,” Ozi said with a chuckle as he
looked back down at the transcript. “Yep, here it is. ‘People should wake up
and realize that Christmas is for suckers.’ Seems like you were about to go on,
but the interviewer had more sense than you did and stopped the interview
before you dug your grave any further.”
Matthew frowned. “Okay, I
might have gone a little far with that.”
“You think?” Ozi scoffed.
“You insulted almost everyone that would support your music. How did you expect
them to react? Even the people who tried to support your beliefs did so
tentatively and reluctantly because they didn’t want to be seen as supporting
you personally after how antagonistic you were. If you genuinely wanted to
change the culture, you couldn’t have done it in a worse way.”
“Well, I can’t go back
and undo it. I refuse to apologize for my beliefs. There’s no way I’m going to
make a Christmas album. So now what?” Matthew felt his stomach twist. He knew
that Ozi could very well tell him that he appreciated what he had done, but
Glory Records no longer had a place for him there. If it came to that, he
didn’t know what his next step would be.
Ozi stood up and came
around his desk and perched on the front of it. “I know you well, and I know
that you love the Lord dearly. There’s a reason why your music has been so well-received
for the past decade. There’s a chance that if you lie low for a little while,
you can stage a comeback, but I’d give it at least a year. People have a short
memory most of the time.”
“What do I do in the
meantime?”
“Write your music like
you would normally. You can even use the studio to record it.” Ozi put a hand
on Matthew’s shoulder. “You have a God-given ability to express the truths of
God in a way that resonates with people. I believe that He has more for you in
the future. This is just a little setback. You’ll get through it.”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
Matthew was thankful that he had lived modestly and saved most of what he had
earned. It seemed like he was going to need that savings for a while.
Ozi smiled. “And if you
need a little extra money, you can always teach piano to kids in the
neighborhood.”
“I doubt any mothers are
going to want me near their children. I might tell them Santa Claus is a myth
or that the Easter Bunny isn’t real.” Matthew didn’t even want to get started
on that tangent.
With a laugh, Ozi stood
up. “Glad to see you can joke about it.”
Matthew got to his feet.
Ozi was a good friend, but he was also a busy man. He no doubt had other things
to do than deal with Matthew’s mess.
A tap on the door drew
their attention. The person on the other side didn’t wait for an answer. She
burst through, her chest rising and falling as if she had run, but Matthew
wasn’t sure how she would manage that with the three-inch heels that she was
wearing.
“I’m sorry to barge in,”
she said, “but I need help!”
