Why am I still here?

"Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take." - Proverbs 3:6 (NLT)

Man, I prayed hard the last several months, begging God to tell us whether to stay in California or move back to Minnesota. Actually, I didn't limit the prayer to familiar geography as I just pleaded for direction to find work anywhere. Atlanta? Alaska? Albequer... Albaquer... Alabama?

And which path did He tell me to take?

Seriously, if anyone heard Him, please tell me, because I missed it.

According to the Proverbs verse above, He should have shown me which path to take. Right?

"Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take."

Am I not living up to my end of that bargain?

I mean, technically, I'm probably not seeking God's will in all I do. That's a tall order, don't you think? Am I naive to think I can wipe my butt according to my own will? I have a method I favor, after all.

Butt wiping aside, of course I fail daily in seeking His will. It's not His will for my I'm-mad-cuz-you-did-something-stupid face to make appearances on the highway. It's not His will for me to pout when I continue to have doors closed on me in this town. And I'm pretty sure it's generally not God's will for me to envy those who've accomplished by age 20 more than I've done at age 30 (plus a decade or so).

But on the whole (not a wiping pun), I am seeking God's will. I truly want to do whatever He wants me to do. Whatever that is. Wherever that is.

The tricky part in my life is this dream I haven't been able to lose or fulfill. Does my seeking of God's will get hijacked by this Hollywood dream? Is the dream God's will for me or is it His will for me to give up the dream? Chasing it this long without receiving the success for which I'd hoped could certainly imply God prefers I focus my attention elsewhere.

The Hollywood dream is huge to me, but it's anything but huge to God.

What's huge to God is that I'm actively living His will no matter what I'm doing, where I'm doing it, or with whom I'm doing it.

My first year in Los Angeles has yielded only five principal acting roles, none of which were of the high-paying ilk. Most of my time on set has been as a background actor. An extra. An out of focus piece of meat there to give the illusion that Meredith Grey works in a real hospital.

But what's cool about background work is that I meet new people on every job. I have had abundant opportunities to share God's love with strangers and new acquaintances and friends. I've earned the reputation on multiple sets of being "the nice guy." I can live with that. To me, being a nice guy is the first step in sharing the Gospel. Sometimes it's the only step God needs me to take.

I don't wear religion on my sleeve. I try to wear love on my sleeve. Maybe that's why God has me here. Not to shove scripture down people's throats, but to live my faith and be an example of what God's love can do. Not to have success as an actor, but to be a servant who relies on charm and good-looks... um... charm and... um... well, not being a douchebag.

It's amazing how many expert extras there are here in Hollywood. I've become an expert nodder-and-smiler. Sometimes that's all you can do while the "expert" in the room explains that this is the first background work he's done in ages because it's the first day he hasn't had a principal audition in six months.

I don't preach the gospel to them. But I try to show them love. By giving them space. And finding a different corner of the holding room to hang out in.

But seriously, aside from the obvious attention seekers, I've met great people that I've hopefully impacted in a positive way. I feel like that's God's will for me right now. Be a nice guy, show love, and don't be a douchebag.

Theologically speaking, I know being a "nice guy" isn't the end-all, be-all of what we are called to do.  I've met plenty of nice atheists, after all. I'm just simplifying here so I don't ramble.

No, I'm not rambling. This isn't rambling. Rambling is when... oh... never mind.

So why am I still here? To be a nice guy on set? To plant seeds in others so they seek God? I can do all that in Minnesota. We should have moved back to Minnesota. It's cheaper. Family is there. It's more familiar. And there are plenty who need to be loved there, too.

God didn't tell me to stay in California. But He didn't tell me to move back to Minnesota. He remained largely silent, which leads me to believe He didn't care so much about where I was, but who I am. More specifically, whose I am.

I am His.

And He is not going to abandon me. We are scheduled to run out of money in a couple months. All our money. Literally. As perpetual planners and safety-net-employers, this is scary for us. Yet, God is bigger than all of this. I trust Him. No matter where we end up after Halloween, I trust God knows what's best for us.

But ya wanna know something exciting? I do believe success is just around the corner. It may seem contradictory to what I mentioned above, but I believe I'm supposed to be right where I am right now. Not because God needs me here more than He needs me elsewhere, but because I've been faithful in seeking His will and He desires to bless me with my heart's desire.

It makes sense. My heart's desire doesn't contradict scripture. It doesn't defame God. The desire isn't a pipe dream that I'm not qualified to achieve. It's my God-given gift.

It's also the right of anyone reading this to disagree with me. Go ahead. But mark my words: My dreams are coming true.

"Take delight in the Lord and He will give you your heart's desires." - Psalm 37:4 (NLT)

He's a good God. And that's why I'm still here.

What others say about me

"What you say about yourself matters very little, but what others say of you means the world."
-- Hugh Halter, from his book, Flesh

I don't sleep well. On a good night, I'm asleep within an hour of going to bed. If I wake in the middle of the night, I'm usually a couple dozen tosses and turns from my next dream. During the day, I can close my eyes, but rarely do I get past the "whoa, did I just doze off?" stage of slumber.

Why? Is it too much caffeine? Too much sugar? Too much excitement in my life?

Um. No.

It's because I can't shut my stubborn brain off. My thought control skills are on pace with Johnny Manziel's common sense skills. Below remedial.

If I'm not navigating creative waters, I'm treading the depths of self-doubt, God-doubt, and why-did-I-eat-so-much-ice-cream-doubt.

One prevailing narrative is the questioning of my value. Regardless of what Clarence taught George Bailey, I still find myself sinking into questions about my purpose.

On a micro level I know my kids need me. I believe my wife needs me. Still, it's hard not to consider the life my wife could have had with a more successful husband. A more stable husband. Someone who accepted his role in the blue collar world or maybe white collar world. There's nobility in working hard to bring home a paycheck.

But that's the thing. Man am I working hard. So hard that I'm getting burned out.

"I'm so busy" is a phrase that's thrown out almost as much as "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

More? Yeah, probably more.

I don't expect everyone reading this to believe me when I say I'm working my tail off. After all, what do I have to show for it? I should share my tax returns here to really humiliate myself. By my calculations I've made about $0.27 an hour over the last 10 years. I made that number up. I'm too busy to calculate it for realz.

We're a results oriented society and the results just haven't been there for me. My family has suffered because of this. My ego has suffered because of this (which is technically a good thing, I know). And there are times I lie awake wondering if the worst is still ahead.

But the question prevails.

Why?

Why have I been allowed to work so hard for so long and not see the results I'd expected -- dare I say -- deserved?

I don't know. This silly little blog that I started before blogging was "in" (I think blogging is actually "out" now thanks to SnapChatteragram or whatevs) was supposed to be an inspirational account of one man's journey of overcoming the odds to prove that dreams really can come true.

If you didn't read that last line in your best movie trailer voice, here's another chance...

One man's journey of overcoming the odds to prove that dreams really can come true.

The late, great, Don LaFontaine,
king of movie trailer voiceovers (born in Minnesota!)

I've developed a counter theory to all of this now. I don't know if it's any truer than the former, but it's something I'm gnawing over. In the middle of the night.

What if my story is the anti-dream-following story? Despite Joel Osteen's claims, not everybody gets everything they want if they just believe it to be true. Maybe God needs me as an example that safety is sometimes the best route. Maybe my story is supposed to inspire in a way that contradicts my original intention.

If that's my reality, all I want is for people to say is that in spite of adversity, I am a hard worker. A good father. A worthy husband. A faithful servant.

Of course, that's all I want people to say about me regardless.

But the hard worker part is particularly sensitive to me these days. Really, I'm starting to question if the work I'm doing is useful. All the hours of research, networking, and creating -- are (were) they all worth it?

If I give up my Hollywood dream, I don't care if people assume it was because I wasn't talented enough. What I do care about is if people think it's because I didn't work hard enough for it. They'd be wrong on both accounts, but there's a sense of pride in hard work done well. I feel I've done that. And that's the example I want to give to my kids, my family, my friends, and anyone with whom I interact.

I don't know why God has me on the path He has me on, but I so desperately want to be an inspiration to everyone around me. Yes, I have an everybody-must-like-me complex, but my people-pleasing curse isn't driving my concern of what others say. It's simply that I want to be a positive influence. Not for my sake, but for the sake of the greater good.

But what does it matter what I say? What matters is what others say about me. Am I giving others reason to call me a hard worker? A good father? A worthy husband? A faithful servant? Regardless of whether I make it in Hollywood or not, at this point, all I care about is representing my faith in a pleasing manner to God.

And, really... is Hugh Halter's quote accurate? Does it matter what others say about me? Well, on a macro level, no. What matters is whether I am pleasing God. Where Halter's quote comes into play is that if we are pleasing God, by default, others will say good things about us.

The reason I'm here

I've lived in Los Angeles for about 9 months now.

Popular recommendations for [already working] actors moving to Los Angeles for a [more significant] career in acting is to allow at least two years before giving up. It takes time to build relationships and find your way out here.

So who am I to have thought I could accomplish in a year what the "experts" say takes at least two?

Well, let's push aside the notion that there are actually experts who know definitively how long it takes to make it in Hollywood. We can study statistics and trends and add a little gut-instinct to form a theoretical equation, but every path is different.

Every. Path. Is. Different.

I was hedging my bets that my path would defy the experts. And it still may. After all, I had so many things going for me back in August when I made the move. I had a theatrical agent ready to sign me as soon as I got to town. And a reputable agent at that. How? I had a Los Angeles Casting Director who believed in me and set up a meeting with the agency. That doesn't happen often to small-market actors moving to LA. Unless you're ridiculously gorgeous. Which I'm not. Or remarkably unique. Which I'm not. Or related to Francis Ford Coppola. Again, which I'm not.

I'd made friends with successful actors out here, recognizable faces from film and television. Certainly they could help me kickstart things. They still may.

Even if the acting thing didn't pan out right away, I had screenwriting to fall back on. Heck, I have two scripts right now that have turned some heads. I mean, one of them has to hit, right? They may or may not.

I've produced two feature films. That must mean something, right?

I've appeared in dozens of commercials and hundreds of projects overall. I'm not completely green. I know what I'm doing in front of the camera and behind it.

But most importantly, I was convinced God brought me out here. He wouldn't bring me out here to fail, would He? If the 2-year-rule applied to me, God would have given us more money so we could afford to be out here more than a year, right?

Besides, how many people come out here without God and still find success? I'm pursuing this career for the right reasons. It's not fame or fortune I desire. It's happiness in doing what I love and sharing God's love with an industry that needs it.

God needs people like me in this industry.

Right?

Okay, here comes the revelation I have just recently experienced. No, let me rephrase that... here comes the revelation I finally realized.

God brought me out here not to fulfill my desires but to fulfill His desires for me.

Look, I still want to succeed in Hollywood more than most folks could fully understand, but I'm rearranging my thinking, even as I type this.

Let me paint the dots I'm now connecting in reverse.

Before moving to Los Angeles, I scouted many potential landing spots. I settled on Santa Clarita because the schools are outstanding and it's more affordable to live here than Burbank. I was specific within Santa Clarita of where we wanted to be according to school boundaries. A house was available in one of our chosen areas and I connected with the rental company. A woman named Kim was my contact there. We clicked right away, but when I admitted we were moving from Minnesota and were going to live off our savings and didn't have jobs lined up, she said they couldn't help us.

And yet, somehow we ended up in this lovely house on a quiet street without even seeing it in person before signing the rental agreement.

Did I mention our realtor in Minnesota, a friend of more than a decade, didn't want to put our house on the market because he didn't see any chance of it selling in time? It sold in time.

Now, another thing I'd done from Minnesota before moving out here was connect to a couple pastors of a Lutheran Church in Santa Clarita. Getting involved with a church right away was important to us and we were all set to visit that church on the second Sunday we were here.

The only problem was getting out the door in time. Kids have a way of delaying departure times. With the church being 15 minutes away and us being 10 minutes late, we decided to visit a nearer church.

Did I mention that Kim from the rental company is a Christian and had texted a few church options in our area? Yeah.

Five minutes from our house is a Baptist Church. Grace Baptist, to be exact. My wife and I grew up Lutheran. We sit in the back. We don't raise our hands during praise and worship. We don't shout "Amen" while the preacher preaches.

We also didn't know the difference between "Southern Baptist" and "Baptist."

But Grace was close enough for us to make it in time. We'd give the Lutheran church a chance next Sunday.

We've never looked back since visiting Grace that morning.

I've been a church goer my whole life. There's never been a time that I haven't attended a church, at least semi-regularly. There's also never been a time when I could say whole-heartedly that I love my church. Until Grace.

I love my church.

It's funny... My wife and I had a conversation a couple months ago talking about our future and whether we'll be staying in SoCal past the summer or back in Minnesota. We both admitted that if nothing else, at least being here and getting involved at Grace has strengthened our faith. So even if I fail in the movie industry, at least a bi-product of our journey to Santa Clarita will be a strengthened faith.

And that is where the revelation happened. That misguided statement of a strengthened faith being the bi-product of our journey west.

I now know that a strengthened faith is not the bi-product of our journey out here. It's the absolute reason God brought us here! I don't doubt that even a tiny bit.

God brought us here for Grace Baptist.

If I succeed in the movie industry, that will be a bi-product of us coming out here to strengthen our faith. I had it backwards before.

If you're not a man or woman of faith, I expect you to be skeptical of my claims here. Heck, I've been a man of faith my whole life and I would have been skeptical of this claim even a few weeks ago. But I'm telling you, I have not felt this close to God since before losing my sister in a tragic car crash nearly 13 years ago.

The practical side of all of us will scoff at the price my family paid to come out here. If we have to move back to Minnesota, we will be doing so with almost no money to our names. Gone is our savings, our equity, our stability.

But you know what? God is bigger than money and material things. He's never been unfaithful to us before and that's not going to change. I'd rather live poor and unsure of my next paycheck with a good relationship with God than live rich and apart from Him.

After all, Jesus tells us in Luke 16:13 that we cannot serve both God and money. I hate that I've spent so much of my life serving money instead of God. What did it get me? Less of both!

I still don't know where my family and I will be in August, but isn't it exciting that God is already there waiting to reveal Himself in a way I cannot even imagine today?

The dots I've connected in the last several years are amazing, and maybe I'll share more about them in a future blog entry. But for now, I'm just excited to connect tomorrow's dots the day after tomorrow.

I love you, Lord. Thank you for bringing me back to You.

Anything Worth Saying

In the words of Aaron Shust...

Give me words to speak

Don't let my spirit sleep

Cause I can't think of anything worth saying

So is the lament of the lonely blogger. I'm sure Mr. Shust was thinking of bloggers when he penned the lyrics to Give Me Words to Speak.

Give me words to speak

My blog is feeling weak

Cause no one really cares what I've been saying

That's gotta be the long lost chorus that didn't make it into the public EP release of Whispered and Shouted -- a great easy-listening Christian CD, by the way.

Moms' Night Out, my favorite faith-based film of 2014, opens with our hero, Allyson, typing, "I am a mommy blogger… I have 3 followers. Yesterday I had 4, so that's awesome."

Wow, can I relate. Although, according to my tracking software, last week's post reached a few more eyes than normal. Which is a good thing.

Except…

I'm not sure my words were received as intended.

I'm supposed to be sharing in this post some wonderful nuggets of wisdom from the superbly talented screenwriter of Moms' Night Out, Andrea Nasfell.

But…

I wanted to clear up any misconceptions that may have surfaced from my post imploring Christian filmmakers to take risks and raise their standards.

First, I didn't mean to imply that all Christian movies released in the time period between What If… and Moms' Night Out were bad movies. On the contrary, Christian cinema is progressing in the right direction, both aesthetically and message-wise. Yes, there have been Christian movies that fall into one or more categories of too preachy, meandering story, inconsistent acting -- but a similar percentage (probably a higher percentage, actually) of mainstream movies fall into the exact same categories.

I've produced two feature films that definitely fall into more than one of those categories!

It's not my intention to tear down any films or filmmakers, which is why I didn't reference specific titles. Still, specific mentions or not, speculative deduction can bring a number of titles to readers' minds. If that's the case, there's a good chance the reader feels the same way about certain movies. I can live with that.

But… as a filmmaker myself, I know how personal these projects can be and to hear negative comments, directly or indirectly, can spur emotions that debilitate and invoke fear of future failure. I know from experience! And I hate those feelings!

Or they spur anger over the idiot typing them.

Either way, the last thing I want to do is tear down Christian filmmakers. I'm trying to encourage, but I suspect that sentiment may not have been completely evident.

I'm not taking back my plea to make better movies, but I'm not implying that the majority of Christian movies in the market today are bad. I've seen probably 40-50 Christian movies in the last five years and I didn't hate a single one of them. Every one had redeeming qualities that I could appreciate, if not for my own personal growth, for the potential growth they could encourage in other audience members.

And that is the key. If a movie has the power to speak to somebody, anybody, in a way that can improve his or her life, that movie is a worthy tool in God's belt.

I have so much to say on this topic, but I don't know if any of it is worth saying, so I'll just Shust my mouth for now.

Christian cinema needs to take more risks

"God chose to introduce Himself to us in the first verse of Genesis as a Creator. And yet so few Christians really understand the power of creativity to influence the culture." -- Phil Cooke

Three years ago I saw a movie that forever changed my perception of Christian cinema. What If..., directed by Dallas Jenkins, proved that faith-based films didn't have to be plagued by poor production value, underwhelming acting, meandering story lines, and heavy handed preachiness. Finally, I had found a Christian movie I wasn't embarrassed to share with my non-believing friends.

Unfortunately, What If... didn't start a new trend. High quality faith-based movies are still the exception, but church audiences tend to give them a free pass because the filmmakers are "doing God's work." Really, does a movie have to look pretty to be effective?

Yes. It does.

I'm not talking pretty in the sense of beautiful scenery, gorgeous stars, and shiny plot points (though it's not like any of those elements are bad!). I'm talking about faith-based films meeting the production standards of the secular motion pictures that dominate the box office. There's no reason Christian cinema shouldn't be held to the same standards as, say, Dallas Buyers Club or Captain Phillips or The Hangover, part 8.

It's time for Christian filmmakers to raise their own bars. It's time to bring story to the forefront and let the message come out organically instead of forcing it down the audience's throat. It's time to employ talented folks who may not share our worldview, but who bring world-class sensibilities to any and all stages of production.

It's time to take the kid gloves off and tackle some of the bigger issues that are running this world into the ground. Or, on a lighter note, it's time to crack some jokes about ourselves and tear down that wall that separates the overly pious from the shunned bystanders.

Now, What If... isn't a movie that risks a lot, but its production value ranks up there with mainstream Hollywood cinema. The script is tight, the acting is solid, the direction is spot-on, and the overall feel is unlike most faith-based films available today.


New on DVD last week is a faith-based film that rivals What If... as my favorite Christian movie of the last decade. At times riotous, always heartfelt, and undeniably relatable to me as a stay-at-home dad, Moms' Night Out finally continues the trend I'd wanted What If... to ignite. It's no coincidence that Moms' Night Out is written by What If... screenwriter Andrea Nasfell, who will join me in my next blog entry to share some of the backstory behind Moms' Night Out.

I can't recommend Moms' Night Out and What If… enough. To me, they set the standard for what faith-based films should be. Are they perfect? Of course not. No movie is. But strip away the Christian message (which isn't nauseatingly forced down the throats of the audience), and these movies look like they belong in the same category as typical wide-release Hollywood fare.

And that is what makes them effective.

I wouldn't eat that if I were you

"All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on." - Havelock Ellis

Little fingers find the littlest trinkets and treasures.  Little mouths, like vacuous black holes, absorb everything those little fingers find.

My 11-month-old discovered an eraser today, a half-inch cube.  From where I do not know.  The level of his eyes introduces him to a world few walking erectly ever see.

Our eyes locked.

He smiled proudly.

I shook my head and lunged toward him, narrowly dodging the blocks, books, and bears scattered across the floor.

My old-man grunts were drowned out by his mocking laughter as he pushed the eraser in his mouth at Usain Bolt speed.

My arms thwarted his attempted escape and I quickly rolled him over and plunged my finger into his swimming pool of a mouth.

His laughter stopped when I successfully extracted the eraser and he gave me an "oh no, you di'n't" look.

Then the tears.  Oh the tears.

I just saved your life, young man!  And this is how you thank me?  With a tantrum?

You could have choked on this eraser and --

-- um --

-- wait a sec --

That's not an eraser.

It's cheese.

When was the last time we had cheese in the living room?  Couple weeks?  Month?

This cube of cheese was a little harder than an eraser.  Full of hair, dust, and probably enough microbials to give even the strongest of digestive tracks a good flush.  Pun intended.  Duh.

I had the disease-cheese safely contained, but baby boy wanted it back.

In his mouth.

And then in his stomach.

"Don't you get it?"  I wondered rhetorically.  "This is bad for you.  I took it away for your own good."

Cue the painfully obvious parallel.

How much month-old cheese am I still clinging to?  Why do I continually throw tantrums when God does His best to rid me of the intestine attacking milk curds?  It's for my own good!

I'm getting better.  Gradually.  Like a fine aged cheddar.

The less I whine over other actors getting roles for which I felt I was more qualified, the more roles I tend to get.  The less I sulk at another producer's connection to financiers, the more connections pop up for me.  The more I applaud others' fortunes and accomplishments, the more fortunes and accomplishments seem to come my way.

I'm getting better at letting the hard hairy cheese go and just living with the cheesiness of my parables, metaphors, and allegories.

But it's a process.  Like Velveeta.

And yes, Chad, I used the word "erectly".

A Perfect Life

"Dear God, please give Denise and her family more money so they can have a perfect life like we have." - P. Overlander

Sigh.

Heart melting.

Perspective granted.

Remember Rolf and Leisl chirping back and forth about being 16 going on 17 in The Sound of Music? My oldest is 7 going on 17.  She speaks of a boyfriend.  She demands a cell phone.  She begs to wear makeup.

This little girl, anxious as she is to grow up, has always had a heart of gold.  From her delicate way of prefacing criticism with: "I don't want to hurt your feelings, Dad, but..." to "I don't want to hurt other dads' feelings, but you're the best dad ever," she has me wrapped ridiculously tightly around every one of her fingers.

Yet she still floors me from time to time.  Like the night she said her table grace and threw in the above request.

Denise is a little girl from the Philippines that we sponsor through Compassion International.  She's been a remote part of our family for a few years now, sending notes and drawings regularly, occupying our prayers daily.  I've heard my girl pray for her many times.

It's impossible to know the exact image of Denise's family my daughter holds in her heart, but it's clear she understands that Denise's isn't a life of prosperity.

But how can my little girl think ours is a perfect life?  Doesn't she know that most months our bills are greater than our income?  Doesn't she know her dad is lustful of a bigger home, a lake home, a California home?  Doesn't our worn, stained carpet torment her like it does me?  What about our toilet than runs unless we lift the tank lid and wiggle the doohicky connected to the thingamajig?  And don't get me started on our yard.  And kitchen.  And my wardrobe.

Lest I paint myself a materialistic covetous whiner, please know I appreciate my blessings of which there are many.  Too many to count.

But I dwell too often on the have-nots in my life.  We all do.  Except my little 7-year-old.  She has it right.  In this instance, the student has outclassed the teacher by a mile.

My desire to be a professional actor and writer and director and producer is still there and always will be, but if life is already perfect, what more could a career in those fields add?  New carpet?  New shoes?  A steak dinner?

I want to close this entry with a pious spiritual claim that if nothing were to change in my career path I would be content in this already perfect life.  But I can't.  Doggone it, I can't.

Eventually my 7-year-old will tot's be 17 like for realz.  Is that how 17-year-olds talk?  Um probs not.  Anyway, she'll have a new perspective on this 'perfect' life.  Hopefully she's able to find a middle ground between the perfect life she perceived at 7 and whatever melodramatic malady she's burdened with at 17.

At any rate, if the life we live today is perceived as perfect by my 7-year-old, it brings sunshine to my periodic pessimistic pity parties.  And that's close enough to perfect for me.

The Richest Man Who Ever Lived, by Steven K. Scott

"Generosity starts in the heart. It always takes action, and it is never passive." - Steven K. Scott, from The Richest Man Who Ever Lived

I'm always looking for financial advice.  As someone who has never, ever been a member of the affluent or  semi-affluent or even quasi-affluent, I've always had to be careful about handling money.  I'd like to experience a life in which every significant purchase isn't crippling.


So when I got a free copy of The Richest Man Who Ever Lived, I was anxious to learn the secrets to creating a more comfortable lifestyle.  Unfortunately for me, I'm already applying (or at least trying to apply) every suggestion from said book.  I'm sure not rich from a financial stance, but I'm wealthy in more important ways.


Still... I look forward to being both!


For anyone interested, here's a review of the book:


The Richest Man Who Ever Lived is essentially a commentary on the Old Testament Book of Proverbs. That can’t be a bad thing. After all, Proverbs contains moral truths universally applicable regardless of one’s faith or lack thereof.


Despite its title, the book is not a guide for getting rich - at least not financially. While applying author Steven K. Scott’s suggestions can certainly contribute to financial gain, the core objective of the book is to provide a framework for achieving wealth in non-monetary forms.


Some readers may be disappointed that a book about the richest man who ever lived (the Old Testament’s Solomon) is not a get-rich financially guide, but rather a get-rich personally guide. True wealth comes not from the digits in a savings account, but from the peace within one’s heart and mind.


But who wouldn’t want a little more money? The Richest Man Who Ever Lived includes the author’s personal experiences of financial gain and loss, the latter of which was always the result of ignoring Solomon’s advice from the Book of Proverbs. When the author heeded Solomon’s advice, his financial success is, at least as much as the author admits, flawless.


The Richest Man Who Ever Lived is not a get-rich guide, but it will help readers manage their finances and personal and interpersonal habits more effectively.


Read Chapter 1 of The Richest Man Who Ever Lived.


I received this book for free from WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group for this review.