It’s June. 1995. I’m traveling west on Highway 90, everything I own packed into my Toyota Celica: old Ovation acoustic guitar, 4-track analog music recorder, books (Vonnegut, Kerouac, Thomas Wolfe, a newly-bought C.S. novel), shoeboxes of cassettes, and a Rand McNally road atlas, the pages turned to the map of Washington state … and Seattle.
I’ve never been there, don’t know anyone there. But that doesn’t matter. I have a vision. A dream. To play in a rock band. And Seattle is the place to go.
Heading for the Mt. Baker Tunnel, I’ve got the windows down, my arm hanging out, a little burned from four days on the road, and the radio cranked. A song begins to play, Pearl Jam’s “State of Love and Trust,” my favorite. I turn it up, pump my fist, singing at full volume, and head for the tunnel, the Seattle skyline looming in the distance.
I’m finally here. Rock stardom awaits.
I lived in Seattle for six and a half years, playing in three rock bands. I also led Young Life ministry at a local high school in town. My time there was filled with great friendships, joy, and much struggle. I did not become a rock star.
At 30, I moved to Los Angeles to be an actor, film and stage, while still writing music. Years later, I found my calling as a writer and have pursued that since.
It’s never been easy. I’ve sacrificed more than I could imagine. But it’s always been exciting, and it makes me lean on faith … on God … more than I would otherwise.
I’m compelled to create, to write, to chase the dream, the impossible. To live in the uncertainty. Because it’s when we embrace the uncertainty—holding it, walking through it—that we feel most alive.