The Reason: How I Discovered a Life Worth Living (12 page)

If I sat through a thousand sermons that detailed all the good things about God, but didn’t spend time worshiping God with my whole heart and spirit and mind, those messages would be forgotten. Worship plays such a vital role in my relationship with God. For it is in those times when you rend your heart and throw it at God’s feet that you finally realize how wide and how deep his love really goes. There’s freedom that comes with consistently increasing your understanding of who God is, and you can’t acquire this knowledge anywhere else. God created us for that special freedom. That’s why our hearts ring out when we experience it.

That’s why I wanted to be at church every time the doors were opened. Anytime the altar was open to go up and kneel in prayer, I was there, asking God questions I was wrestling with, repenting of things I needed to let go of, asking for strength and wisdom for different situations I was going through. I began to go to church all the time.

My Band, My Voice, God’s Miracle

I was still playing in the band Sofa Kingdom for a little while after I became a Christian, but the lyrics seemed like they weren
’
t really true or from my heart anymore. I wasn
’
t as angry about the things I was singing about. I no longer viewed people as wasted space.

So I tried to change the lyrics. That helped a little, but my heart was still changing and it got to the point where I didn
’
t
want to go to the parties the band was having, and I didn
’
t want to even listen to the same music they were listening to. I wanted them to know God like I had gotten to know him. I talked to them about what had happened to me. They seemed kind of shocked and happy for me, but I don
’
t think it really stuck with them like it stuck with me.

But something happened that solved everything. I got a tumor in my throat.

A little while after I became a Christian, Granny noticed a lump on my neck. She asked me about it, and I wasn
’
t aware that it was even there. She took me to the doctor and they took some X-rays. Sure enough, there was a tumor growing in my throat.

The doctor sent the pictures to Tulane University in New Orleans, and the doctors there asked me to come to their hospital right away for a biopsy. I went to church before I left, and everyone prayed for me. One woman put her hand on my throat and prayed that I would be completely healed, that the tumor would shrink until it disappeared.

When she had prayed, I reached up and touched my neck where the lump was and it was gone. I started crying and knew that God had healed me right then. I went to Tulane that next morning, and they had the original X-rays with the picture of the tumor. They took some new ones and could not find the tumor at all.

They kept asking the nurse if she was sure she had the right X-rays. They compared the pictures and stood there amazed. My tumor was completely gone.

When I returned to church that next Sunday, the music leader was on the keyboards playing this song to which everyone always danced.

The words rang out with joy about how we should get up and praise and thank God if he had been good to us. The worship leader bounced his hands on the keyboard with such freedom as he led the congregation in declarations about how God had set us free in so many ways.

The joy of this song, being so true in my heart and explaining my experience so sweetly, filled my heart until that joy overflowed. It always overwhelms me to acknowledge, “Yes, God, you are good and you are real, and you care about every square inch of our lives.” I had read about Jesus healing people in the Bible, and I had read where he told the people who believed in him to go and heal in his name. I believed so much when I read it, but I had never seen it play out in my own life. So this moment of praising God was very special to me.

I was dancing around the church, thanking God for healing me. It was the first healing miracle I had experienced as a Christian. The next thing I knew, the music leader was saying, “If this is your prayer tonight, if you have something to thank and praise God for, then come up here and sing this song to Jesus!” Before I realized what was happening, I was on stage holding the microphone and singing that song with all my heart. I just wanted to thank him so much for healing me.

This was the first time I had ever used my voice to sing in front of people about what God had done in my life. I watched the whole room begin to move. Every person in that room danced with joy as long as I continued to sing. That was when I knew I could never use my voice to sing for anything
or anyone except God. He had redeemed me
and
healed my throat, so now it was all for him.

I gave my voice to him that night, and I said, “God, have your way in my singing. You made it, you healed it, and you gave it back to me, so now I give it back to you. It
’
s yours forever. Amen.”

I decided to quit Sofa Kingdom.

O
riginally the vision I had for starting a band came from my love for Nirvana. Nirvana came on the scene during one of the most disgustingly materialistic times of this century. The 1980s were all about being vain and having the most expensive, most in, most fashionable
whatever
. If you were a poor kid in the ’80s and early ’90s, you were pretty much an outcast. So after my years of wearing my brother’s ridiculously oversized hand-me-downs from the thrift store and getting relentlessly made fun of by all the pretty girls in nice clothes at school, Nirvana suddenly made this outcast cool. Thank you, Nirvana!

The members of Nirvana were just regular anybodies, but they took the stage and shocked everyone with how heartfelt and amazing their show and sound were. I thought this contrast was beautiful then, and I still do now. They were the antirock stars who showed the world that it was okay to be yourself and hate whatever was popular because, whoever you were, that was the coolest thing to be. They pointed to the heart and away from the outward appearance, which was so inspiring for an awkward, ugly girl like me, who felt life deeply in her heart. They gave a voice to those the world deemed weak and worthless by calling them to sing along, “We have passion! We have passion about not caring what anyone says or thinks!” They were themselves, and because of that they gave everyone, especially the underdogs, permission to be themselves too. They rose to be one of the biggest influences of our generation, and I believe the philosophy they promoted is still changing the world.

My driving desire to start a band and play the music beating in my heart came from the fact that so much of my life had been changed while I encountered the Spirit of God during the worship music in church. I thought if I could bring that experience into a bar, people would experience a longing to live their lives to the full potential for which they were created.

If I could play loud enough and sing honestly enough with all my heart to God, about what he had done in my life to save me from suicide and death and hell, then God would show up in such a tangible way. And not only would he show up, but he’d do the same thing in the hearts of the desperate people in the room that he’d done in mine. I knew that there
was a whole generation of people who had fallen in love with Nirvana for the same reasons I did and felt sympathy for Kurt Cobain’s suicide, even to the extent of taking a step closer to dying themselves. I once believed in the death wish of a generation who felt like they were less than others, like they were a burden to the world around them, like they were not important and had no purpose.

So, out of the inspiration I received from Nirvana, combined with the way I was rescued by a living God and saved from suicide, I was determined to assemble a group of unassuming anybodies—
passersby—
who, once they got on stage, blew the roof off of the place.

Pat, our bass player, is a rock star with his instrument, but if I had never seen him play, I would have never called him that. He is exactly the kind of anybody I’m describing—unassuming, polite, and honoring of every human he encounters. He comes from a family of artists and can sit quietly for hours working on his mind-blowing artwork. Pat is also just generally brilliant.

So is Sameer. He is the kind of guy who loves friendship and adventure, and he has a fearlessness that encourages people to be risk takers in cool ways. But he is also an intellectual, nerdy type who loves astronomy and science fiction and is perfectly happy to curl up in a corner with a good book for days. So it is always a little surprising to see his passion pouring unpredictable sounds into his guitar through riffs and progressions that make my heart soar.

Jared, our youngest member, has a mischievous kind of smarts, especially when it comes to pulling pranks. But he also possesses a deep wisdom for his age. Jared would have been happy to stay at home being the best at every video
game created, but he could also write tremendous progressive metal songs, and slam into the guitar with a contagious, joyful freedom and a hit-you-in-the-chest kind of crunch.

James builds computers and can fix anything that’s broken. He is the kind of person who gives all his time, money, and sleep to help anyone around him with a need. But he also plays like a human metronome and almost perfectly hits the crap out of the drums.

They are all soft-spoken too, perfectly unassuming.

Perfectly unassuming, that is, until the feedback starts on Sameer’s guitar. It was at that electric moment we hoped to steal people’s breath. In a general way, this is the heart behind the band name we chose: Passerby. Our mission statement said, “We are just a Passerby with a story like anyone else. We want to inspire people to stand up in their purposes and be moved to change the world the way God made each person to change it, in their own unique and very important way.”

I still believe in this mission statement. Kurt Cobain had a passion to dismantle the spirit of the age, the selfishness and hatred and materialism that cause narcissism. His legacy in that regard continues. He changed the entire music culture with passion and a brilliant nonchalance that came as spring water to a thirsty culture of nobodies like me.

The Birth of Flyleaf

The
scene
: it was a typical, clear blue Austin sky. The South by Southwest music festival drew people to Texas from all over the country. New bands, old bands, solo artists, and busking homeless musicians filled the downtown Austin air with music. The smell of Texas barbecue was making my stomach rumble. I hadn’t eaten yet, and it was nearly three
in the afternoon. But I could never eat before we played in those days.

Our very first show was a battle of the bands event in the youth building of a Methodist church in downtown Temple, Texas. We were the first band of the night. I had copied a makeup trick I learned from another local band with two female lead singers called Animal Couch. I took hair gel and mixed it with a bunch of red glitter, smeared it over my eyelids, and let it dry. I looked like I was a professional battle of the bands contestant now.

Just before the doors opened for the show, the DJ for the headlining band, The Grove, brought in a sack of Whataburger burgers loaded with onions. I hadn’t realized how nauseated I was until that moment. It felt like he had shoved those onions right up my nose, and I started to gag. I walked out of the youth building and found the bathroom, and I barely made it in the door before I threw up in the sink. I kept dry heaving after that and was tearing up the whole time. Glitter was sliding down into my eyes and making them water even worse.

“They’re opening the doors, Lacey!” someone yelled at me from outside.

My stomach knotted up again, and I dry heaved a few more times before I was able to stand up straight. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror before rushing out. I looked like I had just lost the battle of the bands now. But there was no time to fix anything.

I’ll just
keep my head down
, I thought.

I reached in my pockets and felt the handfuls of tiny red plastic party stars, and I was nervous.
Is this gonna be cheesy?
What are the lyrics to the first song? I hope
I don’t fall on
my face. I gotta remember
to keep my head down. Why am I doing this?

“Oh, Jesus.” I said out loud. “Help me. I can’t do this without you.”

Everyone was already on stage. I walked up and Jared and Sameer began the feedback on their guitars. “Red Sam” was our first song. I still felt like I was going to puke.

Help me
, help me, help, help, help . . . Oh, Jesus, help me, please
. Don’t let me puke.

The intro riff ripped from Sameer’s guitar, and everything in the building seemed to rise with the notes. I put my hands in my pockets and filled them with those tiny red stars.

Here
comes the hit
, I thought.

As soon as James had smashed the cymbal I spun around and threw a handful of stars into the air above the kids who were all smashed together at the front of the stage. The second hit came and I flung my arms across them again, sending an arched streak of sparkling stars over them a second time. This time their hands went up—they were reaching for them.

Oh, God bless them, Lord
, I prayed.
Especially the ones who struggle with wanting to be
alive and not knowing who they are or why they
are here. Pour out your love and grace and peace
over them, Lord, and let them know that you are
close and here and that you care. Tell the devil
to shut up, God.

Then I opened my mouth and sang the first line of the song.

“Here I stand, empty hands . . .”

Right then peace fell over me and my nausea passed.
I knew in that moment I was not going to throw up on the audience.

That was the first time I had gone through the process of preparing mentally for a Passerby show. By now, after a few dozen shows, I was familiar with the process. I knew better than to eat before we played.

Our South by Southwest showcase was an early one, so it wouldn’t be that hard to wait. So when my stomach rumbled at the smell of barbecue, I ignored it. My makeup was already done and I didn’t want to risk throwing up and crying it all off. Not today. RCA was in the audience. Our friend and manager at the time, Gabriel Colbert, assured us that not only was RCA watching, but so was someone called a music entertainment lawyer, who could help us get signed. He said her name was Monika, and she was already obsessed with our demo. “Broken Wings” was her favorite song. Of course we’d insert that into our playlist just for her.

The sound engineer for the band PushMonkey was brilliant. We’d met him when we opened for them a couple months ago. His name was Rich Caldwell. We didn’t have a sound guy to help us that night, so Rich had offered to run sound for our show for free. He liked our set so much that he offered to do it again sometime. Later that night we’d all gone for Taco Bell and Rich had joined us. We laughed over lots of dumb jokes, the dumber the funnier. It was our very own dumb joke–telling contest.