I still remember the day vividly.
I was getting ready to head to church on a Saturday afternoon in 2003, but I was also waiting for a phone call from my girlfriend at that same. She had been gone about a week and I had only talked to her once while she was gone.
Long story, short…she broke up with me on the phone after having a week to think about things. At the time I wanted to marry her. You know, young love.
At the time I was about as heart broken as I can ever remember being.
A few times a year the youth band would lead worship for the weekend services of my dad’s church. It was a fairly large church, couple thousand at the time. This happened to be one of those weekends.
So I went to church that afternoon for our practice before the two Saturday night services.
Exactly zero of me was into worshiping God, leading people, or singing that afternoon or the next morning. In fact, leading worship that weekend was probably the last thing I wanted to be doing after what had happened.
I remember driving off to the church that afternoon about as angry as I had ever been. My mom knew what had happened and ran out to the car as I was pulling away. She told me it was okay if I needed to fake it.
So I did. I faked it. I faked worshiping God in order that others might. Sure I had my moments when I wanted to worship God, but I mostly just wanted to get the heck out of there.