“Birds fly. You sing.” These words ring out and touch every part of Mandy Joy Miller’s life. She will tell you God spoke these words to her. She will tell you, through tears, that she feels them every time she sings—every time she raises her voice to her Abba. “I am always singing. It helps me connect the moment,” grins the Psalter, “When I praise Him I realize how much further I can fall into Him.”
But it wasn’t always this way. Like so many people, Mandy’s faith journey weaved in and out of confusion and fear with God. One of eleven siblings, Mandy can knock you over with funny coming-of-age stories and draw you in to intimate stories of wrestling through difficult spiritual battles.
But no matter the circumstances brought on by life, for Mandy, God always transcended. Her passion and her voice could not be bottled up by mere confusion or fear. It was this transcendence that drew Mandy toward a heavenly freedom, a freedom to belt her praise with reckless abandon.
Freedom watermarks Mandy’s spiritual journey, and hallmarks her ability to lead the Family of God into a place of worship. “It’s about learning to live, loved,” she says through her southern Dutch accent (yes, there is such a thing). Living, loved. Therein lies the freedom of Mandy’s walk with God. She hears God say, “Trust me with your gift,” and does so by using it for His glory.
God’s glory, to Mandy, looks very much like voices rising and people falling. She just wants to find more ways to decrease so all that remains is a human conduit for His loving-kindness. “I want to be a part of how God wraps himself around His people.”
Ten minutes around Mandy reveals a few secrets. Here passion for God translates into her children and her relationship with Brian—the man of her dreams. There is a giddy reverence to their interaction. It is infectious. She is also more concerned with “being” than “singing”. When asked about singing worship music she finds that private nook in her brain and says, “If I can understand more how to be more like His child, to be someone who abides—that is what I want. Singing is a bonus.”
If you see Mandy on the stage leading worship then you’ve seen her in her kitchen washing dishes singing to her kids or huddled by a candle with Brian writing her heart. But Mandy will tell you that if you only see her on the stage, and not the God she loves, then she failed to lead, she failed to serve. “I want only for people to see a child worshipping her Father, and if I can do that, they won’t focus on me. Only Him.”
Only Him. That is Mandy’s song. “Birds fly. You sing,” says the Father. And she does. In the shadow of His wings she sings—invisible and wrapped by Love.