Sitting in the front row of the church was something I had gotten used to.  Being the Worship Leader afforded me a seat in close proximity to the platform.  The seat in the front row didn’t have my name on it but everyone knew it was mine.

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On this particular Sunday, however, I wanted my seat to be anywhere but in the front row… preferably in the very back… maybe nowhere in the church at all.  My beautiful wife and children sat next to me as we waited with deep sadness for the pastor to call me to the platform.

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Everything inside of me was telling me to get up and run.  I looked down at the faces of my grieving wife and children and became flooded with regret.

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I had failed my wife, my children, my church family, my God…