The Whitney I Knew (11 page)

There was no jealousy or ego or spite between us. There was only song and mutual admiration and an uncommon joy. We loved each other and we loved the God we proclaimed. That studio was like our own little sanctuary, and we were free to praise and worship as we saw fit. We sang and sang and sang . . . We were not just any little children singing our favorite songs; we were God's children reveling in his glory, and we bathed ourselves in it.

“Thank you, Lord.”

If you ever listened to Whitney perform live, you'd inevitably hear her insert this tiny prayer of thanksgiving into most any song. It's almost comical, because at times she'd insert it where it really didn't belong. Yet she remained undeterred by whether or not something “belonged.”

Jesus was always on her mind.

Yes, she loved Jesus. And this fact was never more evident than when she called to tell me that “Jesus Loves Me”—Anna Bartlett Warner's little poem that so many children grew up singing in church—was going on
The Bodyguard
soundtrack as the B-side single. This was a triumphant moment for her and for us, as my brother-in-law Cedric Caldwell and I had arranged, produced, and written an additional verse for the song. It was making the cut! Whitney's excitement in telling us was unbridled.

During the height of her career, she'd unabashedly sing “Jesus Loves Me” at her concerts. I suppose some people chalked that up to mere patronization—assuming she was simply doing a shout-out to her upbringing. But I assure you, the Jesus in Whitney's life was the same Jesus in my life. And she loved to sing about him.

When Whitney sang “Jesus Loves Me” in concert—or any gospel song for that matter—it was not a mere shout-out. It was Whitney baring her soul. It was Whitney harking back to the Rock from which she was hewn and resting in the peace she gained from that Rock.

It's the place she always wanted to be.

When you listen to Whitney's 2009 interview with Oprah, she references that place of peace. By the time her marriage had fallen apart and things were off the rails with her drug abuse, she knew
she had steered off course. But she also understood that there was a divine grace that longed to help her get back on course.

I remember the day Whitney made a public faith proclamation. CeCe and I were in a Nashville church with her. The preacher gave an altar call—the part of the service where he invites folks in the audience to make a commitment to follow Jesus. Without either of us knowing or being aware of what she was doing, Whitney stepped out from her seat, walked to the front of the sanctuary, and gave her life to the Lord that night.

Her boldness knew no bounds, for she was “Whitney” at this time—someone so well-known that, really, a person didn't even have to say her last name. This wasn't pre-stardom, I-knew-you-when stuff.

What about her image? What about the tabloids and the rumors? None of that mattered to her at that moment. Though she was raised in the church, she had never professed her faith in Jesus as an adult. Seeing her up front at that Nashville church, praying with the pastor—that was one of the first memories that sprung into my mind when she left us. I can see her now up at that altar, kneeling and praying.

Her faith was real to her. She took it seriously. And lyrics like the ones from my brother Marvin's song “In Return” were what Whitney would use in the gospel section of her concert set to tell her story.
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The beauty of lyrics like these is that they don't just tell Whitney's story—they describe my story and yours, if we let them.

Whitney sang “In Return” as far back as 1991, never suspecting that only two years later, in 1993, her world would explode yet again with the release of
The Bodyguard
soundtrack and movie. The soundtrack—one of the ten best-selling albums of all time at her passing—included the single “I Will Always Love You,” which to this day is the top-selling US single of all time. It catapulted someone who was already an international superstar into another stratosphere altogether. Her life became the property of the world and her voice America's treasure. When she sang, “And in the midst of a raging storm, the Lord will calm the seas,” there was no way she could've known that her life would become a raging storm and she would be lost on those waters for a time.

The “Jesus Loves Me” single, which was on that record-breaking
Bodyguard
album, released in 1993. Fittingly, we recorded that song in Whitney's studio, which was located on the lower level of her home, down the hall from her trophy room. Since the studio was in
full use, audio techs and other hired personnel were in and out of the house—though they only had access to that one area. In order to have free roam of the house, you had to have a special pass. Since I held one of those passes, I was the one who always went upstairs to get Whitney whenever we needed her.

We'd lay down some tracks, and she might call me on the phone from upstairs: “Hey, how's it going? Everything alright? You need anything?”

“Everything's fine, but we'll be needing you soon to lay down some vocals.”

Just to get me going a bit, Whitney would be coy. “I ain't coming down there now . . . I've got so much to do up here.”

“Girl, you better come on down when I call you down, or I'll come up there and get you,” I'd say.

Eventually she would relent and get down to business.

Whitney was fast in the studio, but during our sessions for “Jesus Loves Me,” I pushed her a little more than she was used to. It's different when a vocalist produces a vocalist. A vocalist can push a bit more than a music producer who doesn't sing, knowing that there might be something just beyond the singer's “comfort zone.”

Whitney enjoyed the rigor of the studio and the fact that I made her work a little harder. And, because we were in
her
studio, she couldn't give me any excuses. We worked, and she loved it.

One of my favorite things about Whitney was that she had no real pretenses in the studio. She didn't need candles lit or something to set the mood. Her voice brought the mood, and her love for singing was her inspiration.

If she had any studio quirks at all, it was that she used any excuse
to talk. If she wasn't giving me a hard time, she was chit-chatting and cutting up. I'd get her focused again, then she'd start talking—about the song, about an upcoming concert, about going out and getting something to eat. All she needed was a window of opportunity, and she'd rev up again.

In the end, though, the decision to work at her house for that song was so good because Whitney was able to be in her element, comfortable in her own home, and do what she loved with people she loved. I can't help but think her love for Jesus—and especially his love for her—inspired her during that recording too.

When Whitney sang “Jesus Loves Me” during her live performances, she wasn't just performing, she was preaching. In 1994, she sang it in Brazil and gave the gospel message to the audience—telling them, “I love the Lord Jesus. I'm not ashamed to tell the world about him.” In that performance, she shifts back and forth between preaching and singing; it's a beautiful, passionate display of faith in song and message.
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The people who doubted her faith or thought it a charade simply didn't know Whitney.

When I play the song now and hear her sing the line, “See, sometimes I'm lonely, but I'm never alone,” my heart hurts. There were times in her life when she certainly felt lonely and, I would venture to say, times when she felt alone. I think gospel music always brought her back. I think that singing and feeling that joy again was her way of finding her way back to Jesus.

This life trembles beneath the waves of hurt and loneliness, and no one is exempt. The people who we think are the most successful and have it all together are often the ones who are unraveling underneath. Whitney had music, her family, and her faith to guide her during the hardest of times. But so many people feel they have nowhere to turn.

If Whitney were here now, I think she'd say that's one of the reasons she sang: to bring hope to people. Her voice could bring light to the darkest of days. Thousands of people said so in their tweets and blogs and YouTube comments after her death. Yet sometimes those who have the ability to bear the most light are the ones who fall into the deepest dark. And who is there for them? Who picks them up out of the pit?

The Scriptures say that when we are at our lowest, Jesus reaches down and pulls his children out of the pit. Whitney always seemed to find her way back into the light; she always seemed to find the strength to bear the light so others might have hope. My prayer today is that we return the favor—that we bring the light back to our princess and remember her in the way Jesus remembers each of his children: redeemed, made new, reborn, restored. Because that's what she is now, now that she's Home.