things change.

This post is for all the precious people in my life who may have wondered (kindly) if I lost my mind six months ago.

I have been a "professional" worship leader for ten years. I started serving on a worship team in college, and worship ministry was my chosen career path upon graduating. Over those ten years, I have been raised, trained, and mentored in one of the greatest churches in America. Everyone around me supported me in my gifting and confirmed that I am a worship leader. I served with an amazing, authentic worship team and with humble, supportive pastors. I loved the Lord with all my heart, and trusted that He was going to keep me in the trajectory He had laid on my heart in college.

Life for this 20-something worship leader was picture-perfect, all things considered.

Then.

Eight years in, something changed. I got tired. No, not just tired--dry. Bone dry.

I lost vision for where we were headed in worship. I couldn't see how I could lead anyone into further growth when I was growing so tired of the routine myself. So, I blamed the routine. And in search of something that would wet my soul again, I abandoned unity with my leadership and my team. Chaos followed.

Personal struggles started hitting me in a different way, a way I didn't know how to manage. I took offense after offense after offense, and grew paranoid that my "position" was in jeopardy. When my leadership decisions were called into question, I took it as a personal attack. I was in misery, and I put everyone around me in misery as well.

I didn't know it at the time, but my entire sense of identity and self-worth was wrapped up in a season that was drying up.

Shortly after Easter 2013, God put a stop to the madness. I took a week off to pray about what I should do, thinking at first that I would just easily transition into another area of ministry. After all, God called me into vocational ministry in college, and surely something like that wouldn't change.

Except.

That week, He told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was to leave paid ministry. After that, the world was wide open--I could do anything I wanted, but the one thing I knew, and thought I would always do, was off-limits.

When you hear something that clearly, it may be scary to walk forward in obedience, but saying no is even more terrifying. So, with Travis' full agreement, I resigned.

As soon as I made that step, peace overtook me. The areas of my heart that were experiencing such turmoil became quiet, expectant, and finally open to the means of healing He chose. The strained relationships in my life finally were able to breathe. And my transition out, unlike so many others I have witnessed, was one of peace, joy, and honor on all sides.

In my mind, that can only be God.


So, where are we now? Experiencing life to the fullest. Joy beyond imagination, peace beyond our prayers, and healing that I so desperately needed.

Life abundant...all while working at a coffee shop.

More on that to come...

failure.

“What great thing would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?” –Robert H. Schuller

I hate that question. To me, it’s like dangling a carrot. Sure, it’s nice to dream, but the question implies a life that does not exist—a life free of failure.

But this is earth. And here on earth, failure is no stranger.

I’ve always been afraid of failure. That’s probably why I drove myself to get straight As throughout my elementary school years, and why it irks me to this day that I ended my college career with a GPA of 3.97. (That stupid Shakespeare class…)

I’ve been afraid of failing in relationships, too—be it with my family, friends, coworkers, or even the Lord. I’m always working to do, say, and be perfect…to no avail, of course. Striving has always been my issue, and it’s because I’m afraid of missing the mark.

But if there’s one thing I’ve had to come to terms with in my adult life, it’s that failure is real. It’s a fact of life. But most importantly, I don’t have to be afraid of it. In the hands of my loving God, failure can be a tool to shape me into the person He designed me to be all along.

“The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in Him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.” Psalm 37:23-24 (emphasis mine).

I’ve been learning lately that failure can be a great thing. First, it certainly keeps me humble. It also teaches me how not to do things, which is often just as important as the how-to. And if I let it, it can drive me into deeper dependence on the Lord! Triple win.

Failure doesn’t have to be final. God doesn’t intend for it to be. Because of Jesus, we have the freedom to dream, to try, to fail, and to try again. We will stumble—fact of life. But He upholds us with His hand—blessed reassurance!

So, when it comes to dreaming of the future, I think a more apt question for me is:

“What dream has God placed on my heart that is worth the risk of failure?”

I’m going to experience failure. And then I’m going to learn from it. Because the risk of not living the life God has planned for me is too great to shrink back.