A while back, I created a 90’s Christian music playlist…
but never really played it.
Until last week.
Traveling.
I needed something familiar.
Something I could sing along to.
Something that would keep me alert.
And then I remembered—
the playlist.
Very nostalgic: felt like stepping back into my young adult life.
Those songs carry so many memories.
Travel.
Youth camps.
Events.
Family trips.
Church life.
Formative years—
filled with firsts.
First trip without my parents.
First long drives with friends.
First real sense of navigating the world on my own.
I miss that version of wide-eye wonderment.
The kind that shows up on the road—
with a stack of CDs
and no real sense of where life is going…
but full confidence you’ll figure it out.
There were a lot of good memories.
…but also some I don’t care to revisit.
First betrayals.
First realizations that people aren’t always who they present themselves to be.
First disappointments.
And a lot of first mistakes.
There are things I might have done differently.
But those experiences shaped how I see the world.
In some ways—
I’ve spent years deconstructing some of that framework.
That’s part of maturity.
The summer I turned 18—
every trip included at least one full play through
of the Jars of Clay debut album.
We almost booked them for Congreso.
Missed them by days.
To this day, I still catch myself calling them “Earthen Vessels.” (Story there - Listen to Blind on that album around the 6:30 marker)
Some things just stick.
That album became more than background music.
It shaped direction.
It’s what led me into playing in a band.
Developing my musicianship.
Investing in tools I never imagined I’d own.
And stepping into something that, at the time,
felt like endless opportunity.
And the truth is—
that growth never stopped.
It just changed form.
I’ve never been okay with the status quo.
There’s always been a pull to be better.
Do better.
Learn more.
That hasn’t changed.
But 2024 going into 2025 felt different.
I felt… stale.
Stuck.
Like I had quietly started waiting
instead of moving.
And somewhere in that realization—
one truth became clear:
If you want to reap,
you have to sow.
And if I didn’t like where I was—
it was my responsibility to change it.
Pursuing a doctoral degree has always been part of the plan.
People ask, “Why now?”
Because now makes sense.
I’ve been looking at programs for years.
But I’ve also learned something about myself:
I don’t move just because something is available.
I move when it’s aligned.
And this time—
it aligned.
But before that…
I had to get honest.
I had the academic foundation.
But there was still hesitation.
Not about capability—
about confidence.
So I did what I’ve always done.
Closed the gap.
Applied to a master’s program.
Started.
Finishing.
And positioned myself for what comes next.
And once again—
everything moved fast.
Applied.
Accepted.
Started within weeks.
That’s been a pattern in my life.
Preparation takes time.
But when God moves—
it moves quickly.
The last year and a half?
Full-time work.
Full-time school.
Not easy.
But necessary.
And somewhere in that pace—
I found something I didn’t realize I had lost:
A love of learning.
I’ve learned something else too:
I need challenge.
I need pressure.
I need tension.
That’s where I grow.
Am I fully back in rhythm?
Not yet.
But I’m moving.
Graduation is coming and this time, I’m walking/celebrating for me. No loud fanfare.
So where does that leave me?
Doctoral application submitted.
Under review.
Next step: pending.
Can’t say much more than that…
But the real takeaway isn’t the degree.
It’s this:
The capacity to learn never leaves you.
And for me—
learning fuels everything.
So what does all of this have to do with the playlist?
If you had asked me years ago where I’d be—
I would’ve given you a different answer.
Retrospectively, full visibility to the connects that have led to this point.
Predictively, the road was never meant to be fully visible or even defined.
Sometimes you only get the next step.
You don’t fully know until you arrive.
And that’s enough.
Love Song for a Savior carried a kind of honesty about faith that felt simple back then.
My journey since?
Not simple.
Mountaintops.
Valleys.
Deep ones.
Lonely ones.
But through all of it—
God never left.
He’s been with me.
ALWAYS.
Have I struggled?
Yes.
Been disappointed?
Yes.
Been hurt?
Absolutely.
…but God.
His presence carried me
through moments I didn’t think I’d make it through.
And if I’m being honest—
it’s taken time
to separate my faith in Him
from my experiences with people.
That tension?
It may never fully resolve.
But maybe that’s not the point.
Maybe the real question is:
Does it matter?
It matters…
only when I let it interfere with forward movement.
And I’m not doing that anymore.
Because the same God who met me in those early years—
in the music,
in the moments,
in the wonder—
is the same God
who’s carried me through every valley since.
The soundtrack changed.
The perspective matured.
But the faith?
Still intact.
Still moving forward.
— Louda
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