
I don’t remember many of the sordid details of my years in addiction, but I can tell you that if I was awake, I was scheming. If my mouth was open, I was lying. When my feet hit the floor I was running towards something, and it certainly wasn’t God.
Lately, the one thing I seem to be remembering quite vividly is my time in church as an addict. Now, please understand…this is MY story, and in no way do I want anyone to take it as their own or feel judged in regards to their own experiences by what I am about to admit. Each of our journeys is unique to each of us, and no matter what it looks like, it is yours.
This is a little bit of mine.
In late 2013/early 2014, I began to attend a Free Methodist Church in Waynesboro, Virginia. It was a quiet church but enormous (to me) in its size and in its potential of the number of people that could fill it. I quickly became friends with the pastor and his wife and served where I was needed. It was not very long into my time there that the pastor’s wife noticed I could carry a little bit of a tune and emphatically encouraged me to serve on the worship team. Of course, I was ecstatic to oblige. I loved music, and I loved to sing. And, quite honestly, I loved being the center of attention. I loved to hear how good my voice was. But my focus was secretly about who would see me, who would compliment me, and who I would impress. I was quite prideful, to be sure.
What no one knew (as far as I know) is that I always, always, always had a bottle of pills or a baggie of white powder in my purse. On any given Sunday, I never got up on the platform to sing unless I was high. Never. I was a high functioning addict at that time, and successfully pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. Not only had I convinced people that I was confident in worship, but I also convinced them that I had a relationship with the God that I sang about.
It just wasn’t true.
I spoke Christianese quite fluently. I wore the right clothes. I donned the right mask over the ugly truth of my real life. For all intents and purposes, I was a complete phony attempting to usher in the presence of the Lord each Sunday with the rest of my worship team. I took the responsibility of worship and poisoned it with the lie that was my life. I was a joke, and so was my worship.
I didn’t know a thing about Jesus nor did I have any sort of relationship with Him that I could express in worship. I played a part and put on a show for people. And I am confident that the Lord looked away from me every time I got up there in dishonesty.
That was 8 years ago. Three years ago on July 26, 2019, I took my last hit and drank my last shot. Three years ago on August 11, 2019, I surrendered my fakeness to Jesus. I took off the mask, forgot the language, and crumpled at His feet–a shell of the person I used to be. That day He began to fill my empty shell of nothingness with the beauty and perfection that is His grace, mercy and love.
If you have an intimate relationship with Jesus, you already know that there can be collateral damage after living a life of sin. Consequences, perhaps? Lingering feelings? I was no exception.
For three years I have struggled with the shame that was left behind at my behavior and treatment of worship in church. And for three years I have vehemently told God I would never be a part of worship like that again nor would I ever stand on a platform and be responsible for bringing a church into His presence.
For three years, God has listened to me and allowed me to be obstinate. For three years He has given me that space and not argued with me or asked me to stand up on a platform in this role…until now.
Recently, I was asked to, not only be a part of a worship team, but I was asked to lead it. Me. Amanda. The same girl who treated worship like a game, a talent show, a ruse to cover up the truth of who and what I really was.
And I accepted.
Please don’t misunderstand–I am thoroughly terrified. I feel completely inadequate, unworthy to accept such a responsibility. I am constantly praying for God to straighten and unblur the line between pleasing Him and pleasing man when I ponder this for any length of time.
But it’s time. It’s time I step out of the shame of this particular piece of my past and walk in the freedom that He’s made available to me.
My worship to the One who literally saved my life will not be a show. It will not be centered around who will see me or what compliments I might get. But it will be honest. It will be raw. It will be vulnerable.
I am painfully socially awkward and my worship may appear just the same to man, but to Jesus it is beautiful. When I feel the power of the Holy Spirit in lyrics I’m singing, I tend to cry…and then I tend to stop singing just so I can really cry. But to Jesus my tears are worship, too.
And He knows the true condition and posture of my heart. That is all that matters.
*Big, deep breath*
So…if you are in the Aberdeen, NC area on September 16-17, 2022, please join us for:
‘Freedom’ Conference
Aberdeen Pentecostal Holiness Church
217 S. Pinehurst St.
Aberdeen, NC 28315
Don’t come to see me or the speakers who will share bits and pieces of their own testimonies. But come and see what freedom in Jesus looks like, and perhaps, experience it for yourself.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the
Lord is, there is freedom.
And we all, who with unveiled faces
contemplate the Lord’s glory,
are being transformed into His image
with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the spirit.
2 Corinthians 3:17-18
I love yooouu!! ❤️
I love you my sweet cousin. Can’t wait to see what God has for you next!
This sounds amazing!! What a line up. Blessings and prayers ahead of this needed conference!
Thank you for sharing ♥️
Poetic and beautiful. Thanks for sharing