You might say that music has been a part of my life since before I was born. My mother was the organist at the local Portland, Oregon church my family attended. I recall lying on my back on a wooden pew as she practiced, feeling the vibrations reverberating throughout my body, soaking in the cool, dark stillness of the auditorium. As the strains of Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze” drifted languorously through the air and my bones, I felt calmed, quiet and safe, a sensation of peace in the presence of the Great Shepherd. Perhaps Bach desired to evoke this visceral reaction by his lilting counterpoint, a gentle reflection of the rippling waters of quiet streams. To this day, organ music unfolds in me a curious tranquility, which I have never been able to explain. I believe that in the womb, I experienced the same deep bourdon of the organ coursing through my mother’s body as she played. As God was knitting me together in such a purposeful way, His purpose for my life was being played into me through these hymns of praise.

While the organ initially might have caused a spiritual reaction in me, my musical tastes followed a decidedly different path. Although my parents attempted to raise me on classical music, the influence of rock and roll and pop music continued to creep into my musical vocabulary, primarily through the explorations of my older brothers and sister. While I was discovering “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,” my sister Rebecca was enjoying the gentle melodies and hypnotic grooves of the Carpenters, which is probably why the tune “We’ve Only Just Begun” invariably causes me to think of Narnia. When my oldest brother dropped the needle on that memorable harmonica riff of Love Me Do,” I was amazed that the Beatles had stolen the theme song from Sesame Street. And when one auspicious day the guitar crunch of “Carry On, My Wayward Son” came pounding from the living room, I knew I was hooked. Pop music was where it was at.

In high school, I followed my musical passion wherever it led me. I had a strange fascination with big band and vocal jazz, immersing myself in Manhattan Transfer and in their forebears Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw and Tommy Dorsey. I was first introduced to Frank Sinatra on a Reader’s Digest vinyl collection of big band favorites, and in my estimation, no other version of “Stardust” matches the warmth, purity and phrasing he employed on that Columbia rendition. I used to stand behind the piano as my mother played Broadway favorites of the 30s, 40s and 50s, and loved to croon along on those incredibly-crafted tunes of Porter, Rodgers and Hart, Kern and Gershwin. These were my formative musical experiences, and I was baptized into the craft by soaking in the best. But I also indulged in my share of rock and pop music, diving into Depeche Mode, Echo and the Bunnymen, INXS and U2. The first record that I ever purchased was U2′s debut album, “Boy,” released in 1980. It still sounds as fresh today as it did then, and I maintain that it is one of their best.

My parents recognized my penchant for music, and so I began taking voice lessons in high school. Although I wasn’t studying opera, this was my first exposure to classical vocal repertoire. As my training progressed, I began to experience some of the subtle nuances of the Italian art songs, and found them somehow more appealing than the less sophisticated vocalizations of Duran Duran. While I certainly reveled in the energy of popular music, there was something more elevated and lofty about this material, and I discovered an image or identity to which I could aspire. I began singing in a local choir that presented masterworks of composers like Brahms, Mendelssohn and Mozart. When I won first place in the Oregon all-state high school vocal competition, I believed that I saw a future opening up for me. I began thinking about opera and classical voice, and soon found myself enrolled at Biola University in Southern California.

When I came to Biola, I had a not-so-subtle sense of my own importance. I was convinced that my life was going to have significance, and I believed that I knew how. I wanted to pursue opera, because that was the most legit and elevated musical expression. It was the exalted pursuit of any vocal musician, and more than anything else, I wanted to be exalted. Biola was also the place and time, however, in which God began to shape and focus my life in a more direct manner. While I was preoccupied with my own exaltation, God was more interested in crafting a servant who would bring Him glory. He stripped away my voice, forcing a spiritual and emotional catharsis. Instead of exaltation, He led me down the dark lanes of brokenness, which involved yielding my musical aspirations and releasing control of my life. As I struggled through this dark night, I found myself at the crossroads of “surrender,” telling God that I was ready and willing to be used by Him in any way He desired, even if it meant giving up music altogether. Through the talents of a brilliant vocal coach, God redeemed my gift, when I was ready to place it upon the altar of His service.

During this time, I had begun a career in the record industry, landing at Virgin Records in Beverly Hills. Although it was a great departure from my original aspirations, working in production kept me close to the music and renewed my interest in pop culture. I also became involved in my local church, first leading a small discipleship group in the College group, and then leading worship gatherings for that body. When we pioneered an alternative worship service at the church, I found that the Holy Spirit began pouring out songs upon me in a supernatural manner. Never having written a song in my life, I received acclaim for the songs and arrangements that I was conceiving for the service. It was one of the most phenomenal outpourings that I have ever experienced, and honestly, I often wish that the process of songwriting was still so effortless. God was confirming in me a direction, providing supernatural empowerment. Although I have since moved on from that church, God has continued to develop a songwriting gift and passion wherever I minister as a worship leader.

As a singer, songwriter and worship leader, I have been anointed with a dynamic passion to see people make a heart connection with God in worship. I have been called to use all of my gifts and abilities to enable individuals to pursue God in a worship setting, establishing a conversation of worship that is honest, refreshing and transformational. I believe that there should be spiritual windows in our worship, times when we speak and times when we listen, so that worship is a genuine interchange between a gracious Father and His children. The only way that I know to lead people in this pursuit is to seek God with everything I have been created to be, drawing them along with me as I worship, and hopefully removing any roadblocks that might impede their intimacy with God. My life has been shaped with a purpose-not just of making music-but of bringing the greatest glory to God in my sacrifice of praise, and encouraging others in the same passion.