For those of us that are musicians and worship leaders, where does our identity come from? Is it in our musical talents? Our artistic spirit? Our ability to lead a room?
I spent much of my life carrying the identity of a musician. I played multiple instruments, sang to rooms filled with hundreds, and soaked in the applause.
Yet behind the spotlight lived a scarred soul. My birth mother attempted an abortion while pregnant with me, yet I survived. Later, she abandoned me at a hospital. While I was adopted by a loving family and celebrated my adoption every year, I did not grow up in church. Not knowing what God says about adoption, I carried deep abandonment wounds, haunted by the thought that I was never meant to exist.
“Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me” (Psalm 27:10, NIV).
This verse anchors my story. The Hebrew word for “receive” (qavats) means to gather up, accept, or draw close. My identity is wrapped up in His arms, being received by Him.
This is because, even when earthly relationships collapse, God remains. He steps in as the God who receives, the One who defines identity, belonging, and love. That truth does not just comfort the wounded; it transforms worship. As worshipers, we come before God knowing He already adopts us.
When Worship Meets the Cross
In the Old Testament, worship marked Israel as God’s chosen people. In the New Testament, worship is redefined as a living sacrifice (Romans 12:1) and transformation (Romans 12:2). Worship no longer seeks validation but flows from God’s acceptance and our new identity in Christ. The cross is where this shift becomes most clear, worship rooted not in our striving, but in Christ’s finished work.
Jesus does not invite us to earn identity through worship. He calls us to let worship flow from the identity He has already given. A. W. Tozer wrote, “True worship is a response to the cross… When we come to the cross, we are undone, and our worship becomes the expression of a heart that has been broken and made whole through His grace.”[1] Worship shifts our gaze from ourselves to Christ.
Jesus said, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23, NIV). Worship at the cross means surrender. We lay down false identities and embrace the one God gives us in Christ. That identity frees us from the need for recognition, approval, or validation.
And surrender begins in the heart. We lay down our agendas, humble ourselves, and put God’s kingdom first. Whether leading a congregation, serving a neighbor, or walking through daily routines, every act can become a sacred offering.
At the cross, striving to be a somebody ends. Performance-based worth dies. With our identity secure in our Father’s love, worship becomes a life of obedience and gratitude. It no longer seeks to be seen, but seeks to see Jesus clearly and to make Him known.
“With our identity secure in our Father’s love, worship becomes a life of obedience and gratitude.”
From Anointing to Assignment
Like David, many of us carry musical gifts such as singing, songwriting, and leading worship. But the true anointing never rests in the song itself. God develops His people in unseen, uncelebrated places.
As the Lord told Samuel, “People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7, NIV). God does not measure outward success. He raises leaders through obedience, humility, and surrender.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.”[2] True worship begins where self-centeredness ends. The early Church lived this truth. Many leaders wrote music, but their leadership went far beyond performance. They became martyrs, pastors, and servants of the gospel. Paul and Silas, singing in prison, worshiped through obedience in suffering. Their songs shook the foundations and opened the doors to freedom (Acts 16:25–26).
We find worship in every act of obedience and every moment we choose His kingdom over our own.
“We find worship in every act of obedience and every moment we choose His kingdom over our own.”
Surrender Over Skill
In a world full of noise, the Church does not need more talent; the Church needs more surrender.
Jesus said, “True worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks” (John 4:23, NIV). God seeks worshipers with hearts aligned to Him, not performers chasing recognition.
This is why the greatest worship leaders may not carry the most skill. God measures the heart, not the performance. In this place, God works through us with power that the world cannot explain.
Private Worship: Where Fire Falls
Since God measures worship differently than crowds do, it makes sense that some of the most powerful worship happens when no one else sees it.
Jesus said, “When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen” (Matthew 6:6, NIV). In those hidden places, intimacy grows, and God’s refining fire burns away impurities.
Private worship fuels public strength. The strength we draw from God’s presence in secret becomes the foundation of all we do in public. Without it, public worship risks becoming shallow. With it, every act of obedience becomes holy.
Again, worship is not only expressed through music but through the ordinary rhythms of life, our very lives offered as living sacrifices (Romans 12:1): doing the dishes, forgiving an enemy, keeping quiet when offended, or praying in the dark. Brother Lawrence called this “practicing the presence of God.”[3]
As we meet God in the secret place, He molds us into His image. The fire that falls in private worship fuels the light we carry into the world.
“The fire that falls in private worship fuels the light we carry into the world.”
Closing
True worship is not on an insecure search for identity. Rather, it rises from the identity we already have in Christ. As Lee Strobel wrote, “Christianity is not a religion of self-improvement, but a relationship with the Savior.”[4] And C. S. Lewis put it this way: “Worship is the process of becoming what we were meant to be.”[5]
Every act of surrender becomes a song to Him. Every step of obedience echoes His praise. God is not asking for polished performances but surrendered hearts.
For me, Jesus’ truth healed my deepest wound. I no longer live to prove that I deserve to exist. I live from the unshakable reality that God has already received me, and now my worship flows from the joy of being His.
“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.” (Psalm 150:6, NIV)
[1] A. W. Tozer, The Radical Cross: Living the Passion of Christ (Camp Hill, PA: Wingspread, 2002).
[2] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship (New York: Macmillan, 1959).
[3] Brother Lawrence. The Practice of the Presence of God, edited by S. J. Huxter (New Kensington, PA: Whitaker House, 1982).
[4] Lee Strobel, The Case for Christ. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1998.
[5] C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1952.
