A Work of the Heart: “Letting Go” Song Story

There is a constant struggle in my life as a worship leader— a persistent drive to do all and be all to everyone and everything. When I formally became a worship leader in 2011, a co-worker made an observation: “You didn’t realize when you accepted this job that you would be doing more than just playing music. You are going to have to work with others, collaborate, and embrace different personalities.” This same person later approached me to impart some tough-love advice. “Sometimes you may have to sacrifice perfectionism for compassion.”
In my early days as a worship leader, I quickly learned that I was indeed a perfectionist. I was blessed with like-minded female vocalists to make up my first worship team, and we called ourselves OneVoice because we truly sounded like one voice— a pleasant-sounding unison that blended seamlessly. Singing with OneVoice was easy and low on the stress scale.
But then less-than-perfect dynamics began to bump into my music-making. I struggled to collaborate with one of the other worship teams. I fumbled through the summer of 2014 when all of our teams were mixed up and in chaos. We began to welcome new members into our teams who changed the easy and once in sync sound we had established. Instead of simple unison, we branched into harmony. New songs were being introduced frequently. I was creating new arrangements and trying to keep up with piano accompaniment. All of it was rewarding, but it was hard too.
Then one day, I was too critical of a fellow musician, and not-so-gentle words were exchanged. I felt lower than low and as far from being Christ-like as I could possibly be portrayed. I doubted my role as a worship leader who was prominently visible on Sunday mornings. In many ways, I felt like a fraud because of the conflict that sprang up in our department. Another team member pulled me aside and wanted me to explain how worship team members were selected. Were there standards that needed to be upheld in order to participate in ministry? I felt crushed that someone would even question those standards. Again, I felt like a fraud because obviously something was wrong with me and my leadership of our teams. I began to wonder if we were even effective. Were we fulfilling our mission to lead others in worship and bring our congregation into His presence? When others saw me on the stage did they see Christ reflected in me? Or did they see someone who was failing miserably?
I thought back to when I had just graduated from college. I performed anywhere I had an invitation as long as someone was willing to drive me there. I was confident in my abilities. I had a voice and I knew I was talented. When I was asked to provide special music for a Sunday morning service, I usually chose a song that was flattering to my voice and would showcase my skills well. I was pretty egotistical, and leading worship was definitely not on my radar.
Then to my absolute horror, my pride and joy (my voice), was taken from me. I battled through nearly eighteen months of debilitating sickness and weakened breathing. I coughed and wheezed to such a degree that I no longer had the breath support to sing, and my voice was raspy and fatigued.
I cried out to God, devastated that the one thing I loved so dearly— singing— was clearly not going to be a part of my future. I questioned my gifts and talent, my calling, and purpose. I spiraled down into deep depression. My world was shaken, and my once intimate relationship with my Savior was now strained.
I was a mess, but little by little, God began to love me back to life. Those dark days between 2009 and 2011 taught me that I was never too far gone to be deserving of His compassion and mercy. My voice gradually returned to full strength, although I still relied on medications to keep my breathing clear and calm. As my physical healing took place, God also worked in my heart. Spiritual healing did not materialize overnight; instead, it has continued to be an ongoing process, as I witnessed in my interactions with my worship teams. As the dynamics changed, I had to make room for the new and unknown. I couldn’t be afraid of the questions and potential conflict. In the end, I wasn’t leading worship for my own glory or notoriety. I was leading worship to do just what my title implies: lead worship. With leadership would come struggle and challenging circumstances, but it didn’t mean I was a failure. I needed to realize that the most important factor in all of this was that I simply needed to let the Lord into my life. I had to embrace imperfect progress and move forward. I had to let go of all of my intentions and let Him work through me.
“I’m letting go to let You in.”