Not Alone After All
Psalm 94:19 — When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.
I should have been on cloud nine, but instead I’m falling apart inside.
On paper, life is unreal. I’m touring with Bethel Music. I’m writing with people whose songs shaped my faith. I’m standing in rooms I never dreamed I’d ever be invited into. Everything is moving so fast, and everyone keeps telling me how blessed I am. I believe them. I really do.
But that night after returning from tour, standing in my boy’s bedroom, something inside me starts to break down.
My wife Brittany is putting one of our sons to bed. I’m lying next to another, just listening to his breathing. And out of nowhere, this wave of panic and depression hits me. My thoughts spiral so fast I don’t know what to do. I don’t recognize myself. I feel like I might crash out or do something crazy just to make the feeling stop.
Pride keeps me from calling anyone. It feels too vulnerable. So, instead, I text two of my closest friends. I tell them I’m not okay. I tell them I’m scared.
They try to call me back, but I don’t answer. I’m still trying to be dad, trying to be steady, and did I mention how vulnerable talking on the phone felt?
Then my phone buzzes again. It’s a voice message.
It’s my buddy, Micah.
I can tell he’s worried. But on his message, he just prays for me. With my son curled against me, I just listen to Micah’s prayer. And something breaks inside of me in a good way. It’s enough to breathe and enough for me to finally admit I can’t carry this alone.
You see, I haven’t told anyone how this season of touring and success makes me feel when I come home. Not even my wife. So I go to Brittany and confess everything I’ve been holding in. She just holds me close in that moment.
Looking back, and after months of professional counseling, I see what was going on that led to my crash out.
On tour, I had gotten so used to the adrenaline, mountaintops, and constant motion that my body didn’t know the difference between joy and pressure. It only knew stress, and when I got home and life got back to normal, the adrenaline crashed. It hit my mind hard and dark thoughts filled the places where stress once lived. Insecurities. Questions I’d never asked before. Lies I never thought I’d believe.
Getting help changed everything. Talking to my counselor reminded me that there is a true north even when my internal compass is spinning. Through every high and low, God is my steady constant to comfort me in the deepest places.
As we see in the Psalms, “When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul” (Psalm 94:19). And sometimes, God’s consolation sounds like a friend praying over you, or feels like arms holding you when you finally tell the truth.
That night changed how I listen to my limits. Even when life looks meaningful and full, the soul can still be overwhelmed. But God’s consolation often comes through people willing to step into the weight with us.
So maybe the bravest thing we can do is stop pretending we are fine and allow His comfort to meet us where we actually are.
— Brandon Lake
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
- When life looks “good” on the outside, are there places in your heart that still feel overwhelmed or heavy?
- What keeps you from asking for help when you’re struggling—fear, pride, or the pressure to appear strong?
- Who has God placed in your life that could be a source of His comfort if you let them in?
- In moments of anxiety or emotional exhaustion, where do you usually turn first—for relief or for distraction?
- What would it look like today to stop pretending you’re fine and allow God’s consolation to meet you where you truly are?
