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Nerves


It was a Sunday morning, soundcheck was done, and lights were low. She stood just off center stage, guitar in hand, heart racing.
She’s a young adult who’s been faithfully playing with our worship team for a while. A couple of years ago, I told her, “You're going to be a worship leader one day.” She shook her head. “No way. I hate being in front of people.”
But here she is now—leading worship regularly, stepping into something she once ran from.
You can tell she's still nervous. And that’s okay. We all are when we begin something that matters.
His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface, he looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgetting
What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's chokin', how? Everybody's jokin' now
I’ve been there… it wasn’t spaghetti tho.
I told her what I wish someone had told me early on:
Confidence doesn’t come from getting it right. It comes from getting it wrong—and realizing you’re still loved on the other side.
I’ve made every mistake possible. Cracked notes. Lost rhythm. Wrong chords. And every time, the same lie tried to creep in:
You’re not good enough. You’re not really called. People are going to see right through you.
But here’s the truth that steadied me—and I hope steadies you:
We’re not performing for approval. We’re worshipping our Father. And He already loves us as much as He loves Jesus.
To Him, our mistakes aren’t embarrassing. They’re endearing.
When we lead worship, yes—we’re serving people. But ultimately, we’re helping our brothers and sisters come before God. And the best way to do that? Lead from a place of joy and intimacy.
Have you ever watched American Idol?
When someone is visibly nervous, you get nervous for them. But when they’re confident—when they’re having fun—you relax too.
That’s what we’re aiming for as worship leaders. Not perfection. Not performance. But a deep confidence rooted in this truth: You are already accepted.
So the next time your voice cracks or you miss a lyric…
Smile.
Laugh.
And keep singing.
(easier typed than done… but true nonetheless)
You’re loved.
You’re accepted.
And your Father is proud.
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