They call America’s Got Talent the biggest stage in the world, and it definitely felt like it that day last April. I stood on that huge, brightly lit stage in Pasadena, California, with my guitar, my throat dry, palms sweating, stomach in knots. I had flown in for the audition the day before from my home in Trumbull, Connecticut. As I stared out at the audience of thousands, it hit me that this moment could change my life forever.
When judge Howie Mandel asked my name and I tried to speak, nothing came out. The crowd fell silent, as silent as I was, waiting for the words to come. Finally I stammered my name and then my age, 19.
“As you can probably tell,” I haltingly explained, “I have a bit of a speech impediment….”
I’d always loved to sing and had already signed up for the school talent show in fourth grade when, out of the blue, I started stuttering. No particular event brought on the impediment; it just happened. I went from being an extroverted, carefree 10-year-old to a shy and insecure one. I dreaded speaking in class, ordering at restaurants, even introducing myself. Fortunately, most of the kids at my small Christian school were kind, and I was rarely picked on.
My dad told me that he’d also had a stutter when he was young. He’d gone to speech therapy, and the techniques he was taught worked for him. I tried speech therapy as well. It didn’t help, though I did learn how to relieve some of the tension in my throat and how to breathe properly.
I pleaded with God to rid me of my impediment, but nothing changed. I was angry with him and very confused. Why did you give me this stutter, Lord? I asked. Why won’t you take it away?
If I couldn’t bring myself to speak in class, how would I be able to sing in the school talent show? I decided to practice at home, where no one could hear me mess up. To my amazement, the words came smoothly when I sang. My stutter vanished. I felt so free onstage performing in the talent show. After that, I joined my church worship team and began learning how to play the guitar.
By the summer I was 16, severe anxiety and depression set in. My stutter had become my entire identity, and I was afraid to talk at all. I didn’t tell anyone how I was feeling. I didn’t want to appear weak or vulnerable. But I couldn’t stop worrying about my future because my present was so discouraging.
One steamy August afternoon, I retreated to the coolness of the basement, where I kept my musical equipment. I sat down and sobbed, overcome by the hopelessness and frustration I hadn’t been able to express. My eyes lit on the acoustic guitar I had gotten for my thirteenth birthday. I picked it up and started strumming. Then I opened my mouth, and the words came flooding out.
On the spot, I wrote a song I called “I Will Trust.” I sang about how lost I felt, how the pain I’d experienced weighed me down—everything I hadn’t been able to voice because I was afraid of showing my vulnerability. I sang about the Lord’s goodness and my acceptance of whatever he had in store for me. It was part prayer, part promise.
I cried again, this time for joy, thanking God for granting me the inspiration to give voice to my deepest feelings. The next day, I filmed a video of myself performing the song and posted it on YouTube. Hundreds of complete strangers left comments that I had uplifted them with my music. Ever since, I’ve been writing songs, not necessarily worship songs, but they all have inspirational lyrics that explore the human condition.
Last year, I started college at Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia, where I’m majoring in music production. When I saw the America’s Got Talent audition announcement pop up on my computer, I felt called to give it a try. I signed up and did an initial audition by Zoom.
A couple months later, there I was—standing on that enormous stage in Pasadena, trying to calm my nerves as I introduced myself to the America’s Got Talent judges and audience.
“I have a bit of a speech impediment,” I told everyone there. “It was definitely something that caused me to…” I took a long pause to find the words. “…to shy away, to hide. But I found that I don’t stutter when I sing.”
Then I launched into a new song I’d written, titled “Back to Life.” I tried to focus on the music, not all the eyes on me. And just as I’d said, there was no stutter at all. Not a hitch.
When I finished, the whole crowd was on its feet, and so were the judges. I couldn’t believe it! Judge Simon Cowell told me I had a pure and beautiful voice. He and the other judges gave me the four votes I needed to advance to the next round of the competition. I couldn’t hold back my tears. My wildest dreams were coming true, dreams I’d never thought possible.
For my second performance on America’s Got Talent, I sang another original song, this one called “Worth Fighting For.” The lyrics resonated with every fiber of my being:
I’ve waited long enough
For what I thought was impossible for me
For me
I’ve walked through fire
But I’ve come out higher
Cause inside me there’s a fighter.
This time, the voting was up to the public. I placed fifth in my round of the semifinals and didn’t advance. I definitely felt sad about being eliminated. But I had discovered something about myself: I do really well under pressure and with the adrenaline pumping.
Since the show aired, I’ve been playing in different churches and coffee shops. I even performed in the half-time show at a Miami Dolphins game. Being on America’s Got Talent opened many doors for me, but I realize the music industry is not easy to navigate. Still, after the experiences of the past year, I’m more comfortable putting myself out there, taking the risk that I might get denied or rejected. So far the risks have been rewarded: I recently signed with Next Records, and I’m beyond excited and grateful.
I’ve learned to embrace the paradox of my condition. I continue to have difficulty speaking, yet God has given me the gift to speak eloquently through my music and to share his love. I still find myself worrying about the future I can’t control, but I know that God will take me as far as he wants me to go. As I sang in my audition, “What if I could go back in time and change the way I felt about my life? But then would I still have inside everything that brought me back to life?”
My answer is a resounding no. The hard times I’ve been through, the struggles I’ve endured, are what make me me. I won’t go back—I’ll keep moving forward. In the silence of the pauses as I’m trying to find the words, I pray, Okay, Lord, help me. And he always does.
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