It’s been a long time coming. A few hours ago, after twenty-six years as a professional musician and worship leader, I walked off the stage for the last time. Today completed a two year transition from a career in music to full-time writing as a blogger and novelist. While I’ve already written about some of the things I’ve learned as I’ve managed this change (Jan 2019, Feb 2019, May 2019), the last few days have taught me new lessons.
Going in, I knew this weekend would be emotionally challenging for me. Even though this career change was something I wanted and initiated, I had anticipated a roller coaster of emotions. An organized planner by nature, I had been tempted to look ahead and try to structure or manage my emotions, as in, “I should feel happy when I’m singing” or “I should feel sad when talking to this person for the last time.”
Fortunately, through my times of meditation and prayer leading up to my final weekend, I saw the futility of that approach. I shifted my internal posture to one of openness, exemplified by a mental image of my hands held loosely in front of me, palms up. It was a way of reminding myself to just experience my feelings organically whenever and however they came, or as my accountability partner advised me, “Just feel the feels.”
When I got off the plane in Phoenix where I was playing my last weekend, I had a surprise voicemail – my friends and long-time band mates had arranged to all be on with me for my final time. I was genuinely touched and knew it would make the experience so much sweeter.
I played in four services, two on Saturday afternoon and two Sunday morning. The time on stage during the Saturday services was enjoyable, but after each one, the tears welled up. At the end of the night, I felt like I needed some time alone to process the emotions I felt building up inside of me, so I drove my rental car across the street to an empty parking lot. Sitting alone in the dark, I willed myself to cry, to let those emotions out. Nothing happened. I had some good moments of reflection but no tears. It wasn’t time. I drove back to where I was staying at a friend’s house and crashed on the bed, exhausted. I talked things through with my wife Lisa over FaceTime, then fell asleep at 9:15 pm.
The next morning, I arrived for the final two services feeling great. I was upbeat and joked with my friends. The first service went well, and when it was time for the second, I stepped out on stage for the last time feeling good, relaxed. For the first half of the set, I was just enjoying the moment. Then I turned and looked over at my bandmates, friends I’d served, played, and done life with for ten, thirteen, and fifteen years. Our keyboardist caught my eye and gave me a knowing smile. That was the moment it really sank in – after doing this hundreds of times over the years, we would never be on stage together again.
Then the emotions started to come. I managed to hold myself together enough to finish the set. I made it through the curtains backstage and promptly lost it. My incredible friend and accountability partner Ty plays guitar in the band, and I collapsed in his arms as we wept together. I did the same with other members of the band, dear friends all. The release that I knew I needed had finally arrived. I resisted the urge to stuff my emotions down and just let them come. It was a painful, magical, bittersweet, beautiful moment that I’ll always cherish.
A short time later, I drove away with a light heart and an overwhelming feeling of relief. I felt at peace. Joyful. Free. No regrets. With what I believe was God’s help, I was able to navigate an emotionally charged weekend of significant change. As I write this, I feel a deep sense of satisfaction and “rightness.” Whatever further processing may be ahead, I know I did everything I could to fully experience this change in the moment.
Change comes to all of us, welcome or no. As you face significant transitions in your life, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1. All change can generate both positive and challenging emotions. Even desired change usually involves a measure of grief, saying goodbye to one part of your life in order to make room for something better.
2. Everyone processes change differently. While it is important to navigate change in an authentic and meaningful way, don’t feel like your process has to look like anyone else’s.
3. “Feel the feels.” Rather than focus on how you think the change should make you feel, allow yourself to experience your emotions however and whenever they come. Don’t try to stuff, delay, deny, or avoid your feelings – embrace them. As you experience the change, take time to regularly ask yourself, “How am I feeling right now?” There’s no right or wrong way to feel as you process change, only healthy or unhealthy ways of expressing those feelings. Find positive, constructive outlets for releasing your emotions – crying, shouting into a pillow, journaling, meditating, praying, dancing, celebrating, laughing, talking with trusted friend, whatever works for you. Trust your instincts.
Change is inevitable. Change is difficult. Change is liberating. Change is exciting. Learn to process change well. If you do, you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
So I switched mental gears, and we headed off to the park. As we were taking our walk, I was given another opportunity to be flexible. I started processing aloud some of the big decisions we were wrestling with, like whether or not to move and which retirement investments to pursue. I asked her questions, and she answered me but without a lot of enthusiasm. I missed the cues she was sending and continued talking. Finally Lisa said, “Look, I really just want to play some Pokemon here.” (Apparently, I’m not the only one who needs to work on being flexible. But I digress.)
Finally realizing that her expectations for what we would do during our walk were different than mine, I said, “ Well, I’m just going to go for my run then.” She thought that was a great idea (no surprise there) so off I went. As I ran, I began to think, reflect on life, and pray. When I finished running, I sat on a bench and read my personal development daily emails (from Richard Rohr at 
1. I need other people to speak into my life – Lisa brought up something that I needed to work on – being flexible. As hard as it was to admit, she was right. I’m a very routine driven person with a strong expectations of how things should go. Those traits can be strengths but at a certain point they become weaknesses. I had to be open to her critique, fight the urge to be defensive, and look at myself honestly. When I did, I put myself in a position to grow. I need to give people I trust permission to speak into my life and welcome it when they do. It’s painful but very necessary if I’m going to become who I want to be.
2.
So how about you? Are you inviting people to speak into your life? Give one person that permission today. Are you flexible and willing to try new things? Look for an opportunity to change your routine today. Are you open to the lessons life has to teach you? Take a moment to reflect on something you experience today. If you do, you’ll take another huge step toward Becoming Yourself.
It came as tragedies often do – unexpectedly. I was setting up for an Easter music rehearsal at the church where I would be singing when a member of the band came in looking exhausted. He’d gotten a call just six hours earlier that his good friend and brother-in-law had gone into the hospital for a routine, out-patient procedure that morning and died on the table. A simple biopsy led to internal bleeding, and suddenly he was gone.
Isn’t that true? In moments like that, when life turns sideways, we’re reminded of how good it is to have people around us. To know and be known. To love and be loved. It helps in good times too. Having people to share victories with makes them all the sweeter. I’ve heard it said that sorrows shared are halved and joys shared are multiplied. I think that’s about right.
I’ve been thinking a lot about community lately. My wife Lisa and I have been discussing where and how we want to live in this next season of life. Our son Kilian is a graphic designer in Sacramento and our daughter Kennedy heads to New York in a few months to pursue acting after her college graduation. We live in Phoenix in a house that’s more than we need for just the two of us. As an author, Lisa can work from anywhere, and as a contract church musician moving into novel and personal development writing, I have a lot of flexibility as well. Do we move near one of the kids? Downsize to a condo in Arizona? Stay in our current house so we have room for visits from potential future grandchildren?
It’s about more than just having someone to hang out with. Even more than having people who will hold me up in the hard times and share my joy when life is good. It’s about the kind of person I want to be. I’ve come to learn that I can’t become myself alone. I can’t fully develop into my true self without other people. Friends who help me discover the best in me. Who challenge me to smooth out my rough edges. Who encourage me to grow into the deepest, truest, most satisfying, and joyful version of myself.
That kind of community comes with a price. Relationships are messy, time consuming, and sometimes exhausting. There’s always the risk of being hurt or disappointed. But I wouldn’t want to live my life any other way. I’ve found that the benefits far outweighs the costs. My life is richer, more satisfying, and more joyful because of the people close to me. And I’m a better person too.
If you want to grow in this area, you may need to reach out to family or old friends who have drifted away. Or maybe you can seek out real relationships at work or a church or a club or a class. My son Kilian found community in his new city by going to “Game of Thrones” and Bar Trivia groups posted on