The Time I Had a Panic Attack While Leading Worship
And so many other times too
*Before I share my story, I’d like to preface that anxiety is a condition with varying levels of severity and many valid forms of treatment. Please know this is a testimony, not advice. If you are experiencing anxiety or any other mental health struggle, please prayerfully seek a course of action that pertains to your specific needs. You’re not alone.*
In 2005, my husband and I started a band called, Lovelite: an indie rock worship band that fuses our love for dream pop and alt-rock with congregational worship.
At the peak of our musical career, we were opening for artists like David Crowder, Phil Wickham, Jeremey Camp, Gungor, and Rend Collective. Bookings were pouring in, we were writing some of our best music, and working with high-caliber producers and musicians who took our art to new heights.
I truly look back on this season as one of the most blessed times of my life. I still can’t believe God opened so many doors for us and used our music in such a way.
But seasons of even the richest blessing can also come with suffering. Life isn’t so simple as to be all blessing or all curse. We almost always find the two holding hands.
During the summer of 2010, I remember pulling up to a mountain chapel at a campground in Northern California.
We were starting a short tour where we were going to lead worship for a week-long high school camp, followed by three nights opening for David Crowder during his California tour dates.
This was an exciting time for us, and this week of camp was the best possible place to get warmed up and well-rehearsed for those upcoming dates; not to mention the fun and welcome challenge that comes with leading worship for a large group of young people.
The weather at the camp was perfect: gently sunny with plenty of shade, birds chirping, and air fresh and sweet with the scent of pine drifting at a pleasant 68 degrees.
As we loaded our gear into the camp sanctuary, I remember feeling a bit of baseless unease. It felt like something was wrong, but nothing was. I pushed away the feeling and started to plug in my pedal board, guitar, and amp. Once everything was set up, we rehearsed, ate dinner, and waited for the first session to begin.
The band sat around talking and joking about nothing in particular — just friends hanging out… Again that nagging, albeit mild, unease. I shoved it down again.
Worship began and we had a great start. The band was rocking, the crowd was singing along, and there was a general buzz of camp excitement in the room. We were ready to blow the roof off of that place and invite kids into God’s presence in the process!
But I had a secret.
Out of nowhere — and I mean nowhere, for no reason — my fingers went cold and my palms started to sweat so profusely that it was dripping off of my knuckles as I played guitar. I don’t typically get nervous to lead worship, so it wasn’t nerves; I couldn’t figure out why I was sweating so suddenly and profusely. I quickly tried to wipe my hands off onto my jeans and continue playing, but it just kept coming.
During that same moment, my mouth went dry and sticky. I guess my body stupidly decided that my palms needed more liquid than my tongue. In the same dry breath, my chest tightened up like a locked bank vault, and I suddenly couldn’t remember the words or chords of a song I had written.
As this rapid-fire sequence of events took place, I grew more and more light-headed and my heart began to slam against my ribs with unsettling speed.
Panic attack.
Had I not been standing on a stage in front of a few hundred people, I might have found a quiet spot to try to breathe, drink water, and calm down.
Instead, I was sharing a very small space with a full drum kit, two electric guitars, bass, and keyboard, and my husband who doesn’t just sing: he shouts. It’s a cool rock ‘n’ roll shout, but it’s a shout just the same.
In the meantime, a room full of high schoolers either watched us, enthusiastically joined in with singing, or visibly sulked if they thought our music sucked. Either way, all eyes were pointed in my direction to varying extents.
This was not an ideal place to experience an anxiety attack.
But I kept it hidden, continuing as though nothing was wrong. I let the band carry the song as I faked my way through those few chords until I could pull myself together.
By the end of the worship set, the panic had subsided, but I felt completely wrung out and exhausted. My body and brain had taken me on a marathon without ever leaving an area of about five square feet.
I’ll never forget that feeling. It was awful. And it wasn’t the first time. Or the last.
The life of a musician
Like I said a the beginning of this story, I wouldn’t trade these years. I love Jesus, I love music, and He let me play and write music for Him all over the country. The majority of that time was more fun and fulfilling than anything else. I am so grateful.
That doesn’t mean it’s an easy or glamorous road like people might think.
Touring with a band completely removes your sense of control. Because of hectic scheduling demands and the unpredictability of new surroundings, you generally don’t get to choose what you eat, where you sleep, who you’re with, or what city you’ll be in from one night to the next. You take what you’re given and hope you’re taken care of.
(Side note: Dear church leaders, if you’re hosting a guest band that’s been on the road for a while, you’ll bless them exceedingly if you feed them a healthy, high-quality meal. They’re tired of pizza.)
When you’re on the road, you try your best to steal small amounts of time here and there to recharge and feel like yourself again — but that time is not promised and it doesn’t always come.
Adventurers who get antsy if they’re in one place for too long are made for that life. I mostly loved the adventure of it all: traveling, seeing new places, trying new foods, and meeting cool people… but these are also prime conditions for anxiety if you’re prone to it — which I am.
My most heebie-jeebie charismatic experience ever
More than ten years before our success in music turned our lives upside down, I was already dealing with pretty intense anxiety during my everyday life. It’s come and gone over the years, and in college, it was impressively grievous.
There was a span of almost two years during college when I would sit near a fountain on campus every morning, praying tearfully, and begging God for freedom… to no avail. I’d often fall asleep in a panic and wake up exhausted. And in that exhaustion, I’d drag myself back to that same spot before classes started and pray some more.
I wouldn’t consider myself a spiritually charismatic person. I was raised in a conservative church that was cautious with spiritual expression, so I haven’t had much exposure to that style of Christianity. I have no judgment toward it, it’s just not a lane I typically drive in.
One evening, however, my husband and I (we were engaged at the time) were leading worship for a church service during a school break. Worship was particularly exciting that night, with people dancing, singing loudly, and praying for one another — including praying for me.
Afterwards, a friend approached me, timidly. She seemed embarrassed but took a step of faith anyway. She said, “I feel like God is telling me to tell you, ‘The King has heard your cry.’ Does that make sense to you?”
I came unglued. Yes. That made sense.
I returned to school with a new battle plan, given to me by that friend. She told me that I needed to start replacing my anxious thoughts with the truth of scripture. I was to open my bible every time I started to worry or be afraid. Suffice it to say, I memorized A LOT of scripture that year, and it was supremely life-giving and healing for me.
My fountain-side crying sessions were replaced with digging, digging, and more digging into God’s word. The funny part of this is that I was attending a bible college at the time — but this was my own private assignment, issued to me not by a resident theologian or bible professor, but by the Holy Spirit Himself. The most important, impactful homework of my entire life.
Anxiety is a liar
“Anxiety is just a feeling,” my mom once said to me. That has always stuck with me.
Truth is truth. Anxiety is a feeling. Feelings can lie, and I learned that more and more as I began to bury the rightness of God’s word deeper into my heart.
- Anxiety says: I am scared.
Truth says: The peace of God transcends/overrides that which scares us (Philippians 4:6–7). - Anxiety says: I need to be in control.
Truth says: God is in control (Job 12:10). - Anxiety says: I am in danger
Truth says: God is with us wherever we go (Joshua 1:9). - Anxiety says: I’m doomed
Truth says: There is hope (Isaiah 40:31). - Anxiety says: I’m dying
Truth says: Worrying doesn’t add even an hour to our lives. Trust God to care for you. (Matthew 6:25–27).
God’s path laid out before me: a balance beam
Once I built a better arsenal of scripture, I also learned practical techniques that are designed to bring calm to anxious moments.
Prayer, scripture memorization, worship, basic grounding techniques, breathing exercises, focusing exercises… I’ve rotated through all of these and found value in each one.
Christians can sometimes make the mistake of not tapping into available resources if those resources aren’t explicitly spiritual.
As recently as this afternoon, I walked myself through a 5–4–3–2–1 grounding exercise as stress and busyness have triggered anxious feelings this week. I also prayed and asked God to center me. It’s okay to turn to the King as well as the tools He’s made available through intelligent, capable professionals.
The other mistake Christians can make is not leaning enough into the power of Jesus. Sit with Him. Cast your cares upon Him. He hears, even if it feels like your prayers are just hitting the ceiling or falling on deaf or uncaring ears, He hears. He loves you. He weeps with you.
I never want to underestimate the power of God’s word to heal our minds. That’s not to say that there’s not a place for professional help, but believers should not forget to plant the word of God in their hearts as they plant practical tools there as well.
“For the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It exposes our innermost thoughts and desires.” (Hebrews 4:12, NLT)
If it wasn’t for Jesus…
Amanda Cook led a song with Maverick City Music called, “Names.”
In the song, she starts with the refrain, “Where would I be if it wasn’t for Jesus? If it wasn’t for His love?”
If I had to choose one phrase to sum up where I was and where God has brought me all these years later, it would be that simple refrain.
Where would I be? Probably curled up in a ball somewhere, too anxious to face life.
“But God…” (Ephesians 2:4)
But God sat in the dirt with me, right there in the muck, until I was ready to get up and follow Him to freedom.
But God held me in my darkest, most terrorized moments. When I had no control, no sense of His presence, He was there.
But God peeled me off of my metaphorical and literal bathroom floor, showing me a way out.
But God was bigger than my fear and fully able to carry every stronghold that I couldn’t even touch.
I take zero credit for any of the healing or freedom from anxiety that I’ve experienced. In fact, sometimes I still struggle with it, but it doesn’t own me anymore.
I’ll say that again. Anxiety doesn’t own me.
That’s the difference. I still struggle to this day, but God has shown me how not to buckle under the weight of it.
“But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved.” (Ephesians 2:4–5)
I’m here to wave my flag of freedom. Though I occasionally flail, I will not drown. Not anymore.
“I’m a living miracle… Oh, this is a healing kind of love,” -Names
Thanks for reading!
All of my Disco & Lightning articles are available to read on Medium for FREE. If you’d like to support my writing, you can “Buy Me a Coffee,” by clicking the link below!
