My Voice, My Worship, My Yes

Some moments in life feel too precious to rush through.

You stand there with your hands full of emotion, trying to find words for something God has been quietly building for years. Something you didn’t force. Something you didn’t crown yourself with.

You just kept saying yes.

And now here I am, stepping into the role of Worship Leader and Music Director, and I am TRULY humbled.

Not in the “that sounds good to say” kind of way.

I mean humbled in the way that makes you look back over your life and see His fingerprints in places you once only saw pain. Humbled in the way that makes you realize this was never just about singing. It was never just about music. It was never just about standing in front of people.

It was about obedience.

It was about surrender.

It was about yielding to God.

It was about God taking the very thing the enemy tried to silence and using it for His glory.

Because I can look back now and see every single step.

I can see the moments I was nervous and when I doubted myself. The moments oppression pressed so heavy against my voice that I wondered if I would ever really be able to use it the way God intended.

And yet, God kept pulling me forward.

Step by step.

Song by song.

Service by service.

Prayer by prayer.

There were places where I had to fight just to open my mouth. There were seasons where I knew something was trying to silence me. Not just quiet me emotionally, but spiritually. Something wanted me small. Something wanted me afraid. Something wanted me hidden.

BUT GOD.

Those two words still carry SO much power.

But God had already spoken over me.

But God had already placed something inside of me.

But God already knew the day would come when what once trembled would lead.

And THAT is what keeps me in awe.

This was not something I just woke up one day and decided I wanted to do. This was not me grabbing for a title or trying to make a place for myself. This was not ambition dressed up in ministry clothes.

This was God-led.

And that matters so deeply to me.

Because when you know God opened the door, there is a different kind of peace that comes with walking through it. There is still nervousness and reverence. There is still also that holy awareness of, “Lord, I cannot do this without You.”

But there is also a settled knowing.

He brought me here.

He trusted me with this.

He called me to this.

And I do NOT take that lightly.

Just within the last few months, God has been doing such a quick work in my life. In my ministry. In my vision. In my calling. Things that felt distant have suddenly come into focus. Things I prayed over quietly are now standing in front of me with a microphone in hand and a responsibility I can feel all the way down in my bones.

I am in complete awe.

Not of myself.

Of Him.

Of His timing.

Of His patience.

Of how He prepares us even when we do not realize we are being prepared.

Of how He heals pieces of us while also calling us higher.

Of how He does not waste the wrestle.

And yet, even in all the joy and gratitude, there is a tender ache tucked inside this moment.

Because Levi would have been my first call.

The second I found out, he would have been the one I wanted to tell. I can almost hear his voice. I can almost feel the smile on the other end of the phone.

He would have been so proud of me.

And that hurts.

It hurts in that deep mother-place where love still reaches for someone who is no longer here to answer.

But I also know what he would have said.

He always told me, “Mom, I get that you’re nervous, but God is going to use you.”

And I hold onto that.

Because he saw something in me when I was still fighting to see it in myself.

He believed God was going to use me when fear still tried to talk louder than faith.

And now, stepping into this role, I carry those words with me. Not as pressure, but as a gift. A holy little echo. A reminder that even before this door opened, God had already been speaking encouragement through the people who loved me.

So yes, my heart is full.

Full of gratitude.

Full of reverence.

Full of wonder.

Full of that strange mixture of joy and grief that only someone who has loved deeply and lost deeply can understand.

I wish Levi were here to see this.

But I believe Heaven knows.

I believe God knows exactly how tender this moment is for me.

And I believe the same God who called me is the same God who will carry me.

So I step into this role with open hands.

Not to perform.

Not to prove.

Not to be seen.

But to lead people into the presence of the One who saw me when I was hidden.

The One who strengthened me when I was afraid.

The One who restored my voice when oppression tried to steal it.

The One who called me before I ever felt qualified.

I am humbled that God chose me.

I am grateful that He led me.

I am amazed that He trusted me.

And I am standing in complete awe of what He is doing.

This is His.

My voice.

My worship.

My calling.

My yes.

All of it. 🤍