Page 29 of Dare to Hold
The room buzzes with life—people laughing, hugging, catching up like old friends. The low hum of conversation wraps around me like a blanket.
Then the first notes of live music float through the air—low, steady, and brushed with a peace I can’t remember ever feeling. Like someone’s whispering my name without a sound.
People start moving toward their seats.
The music grows louder, deeper, and the energy in the room shifts.
A guitar strums softly. A bass thrums low. A drum taps out a rhythm that feels like a heartbeat.
And then I hear it, a voice I know, one that has been living in the corners of my mind all week.
“Good morning, everyone. It’s a great day to praise the Lord. Let’s stand and worship together.”
Gray.
I look up, and there he is standing on stage, guitar strapped across his chest, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
Gray starts singing an upbeat tune. The others on stage stand to his sides, but he’s right in the middle, clearly leading the singing. Is he the lead singer? I wonder, watching him with quiet awe.
I’ve only seen him in person twice, but now I watch as he sings with everything he has. His voice is raw and full of soul, pouring out a melody that sends shivers down my spine.
The first song is lively and seems to make the whole room move. The woman I followed sways gently from side to side, eyes closed, hand raised, lost in the music.
Then the tune shifts. The next song is softer, more intimate. I lean in, listening closely to the lyrics that seem to fill the space around me and fill something inside me, too.
A few people nearby raise their hands, eyes lifted toward the ceiling. I feel an unfamiliar warmth rise in my chest, a swelling emotion I can’t quite name.
The words wrap around me like a whispered promise. I blink back tears, overwhelmed by the feeling of being seen, heard, and maybe even understood.
Here in Your light, I’m found, not lost,
More than I knew, worth every cost.
You see me whole, beyond my pain,
In Your love, I’ll never be the same.
As the last note lingers and fades, a hush settles over the room. The lyrics echo in my mind, strange and personal, like someone reached inside me and put words to feelings I’ve barely admitted to myself. It’s like they saw the parts I keep hidden and suddenly I’m not so alone. My chest tightens, a bittersweet warmth spreading through me, and it takes all of me to hold back the tears I didn’t expect.
Then another man steps onto the stage as the band quietly slips away.
“Good morning New Chapter Church family! Turn and say hi to those around you,” he says warmly, inviting connection.
A wave of panic crashes over me. My heart hammers against my ribs as I freeze, the vulnerable openness I felt moments ago retreating fast like a tide pulling away from shore.
But then, faces turn toward me, smiles full of kindnessand welcome. A woman nods with genuine warmth; a man offers a soft wave. Slowly, almost without thinking, I return their greetings. The genuine friendliness surprises me, softening the tight coil of nerves in my chest.
“Alright, alright,” he says, motioning for everyone to sit. “If you’ve got your Bibles, open up to Matthew chapter six…”
I freeze for a second. I don’t have a Bible. Was I supposed to bring one? My gaze darts around—some people are flipping pages; others just watch the pastor like they’ve heard this voice a hundred times. I’m not the only one empty-handed, so I let out a small breath.
The pastor’s voice is steady. “Today we’re talking about worth and grace. About finding light… even when life feels heavy.” He pauses, then reads, “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”
I sink into my seat, my fingers curling loosely in my lap.
“Jesus tells us here,” the pastor continues, “that your worth is not tied to how much you achieve, or how perfectly you perform. If He cares for the sparrows, if He clothes the lilies of the field in beauty beyond kings, how much more does He care for you? Grace means you don’t have to earn it. Light means you’re not walking through the weight alone.”
And just like that, it’s as if every sentence is somehow aimed at me, slipping into places I didn’t even know needed healing. Just like that first song.
