When I woke up this morning, I was anxious.
I didn’t know who I was. No, not in a scary, schizophrenic kind of way. I wasn’t at peace with who I was, my identity, and what I was called to do.
Every morning is marked by this stress, but especially Monday morning – the morning after I lead worship.
When worship goes well, Monday morning feels empty. I miss the compliments of the crowd. I miss the feeling of a job well done. I feel alone.
When worship is a train wreck (yep, it still happens sometimes), I feel like a failure. I feel like I shouldn’t be doing the things that I do. I’m a fake…a phony…I don’t have what it takes. It’s probably time for a new career.
Monday mornings. It’s quiet. And the silence is deafening to my ears.