Wendell Kimbrough
11 min read ⭑
“The experience of singing the psalms really unlocked for me their power to transform. God didn’t give us a book of poetry because he wants to teach us new ideas. He is after our hearts. He wants us to be honest, to feel our feelings—however scary that may be—and bring them to him.”
QUESTION #1: ACQUAINT
There’s much more to food than palate and preference. How does a go-to meal at your favorite hometown restaurant reveal the true you behind the web bio?
My family’s dinners and get-togethers over the years have largely influenced the songwriting I do today. Let me take you back there … It’s Thanksgiving and I’m in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Scattered around the house are cousins, aunts, and uncles holding paper plates bending beneath the weight of heaping portions of diet-specific food—gluten free, dairy free, nut free, vegetarian.
My mom’s side of the family is a tribe of self-described health food nuts. Despite that (and sometimes because of it), most of the food is delicious. And all the cousins have well-honed radars for detecting and avoiding the truly healthy (read: blah) foods, like cookies with too little sugar.
I did most of my growing up in nearby Mount Olive, a town so small that there was always a scarcity of kids my age to play with. So for me, the places my cousins gathered were places of belonging. I felt a deep joy and safety with them. We got dirty in creeks and dug gigantic holes in the ground, climbed trees, and made up games.
It was also in those get-togethers that I discovered a delight in vocal harmony as we sang hymns together a cappella or occasionally accompanied by various guitars, pianos, accordions, or penny whistles. How I approach songwriting today is deeply shaped by the imprint of those hymns with their simple yet memorable folk melodies.
Wynand Uys; Unsplash
QUESTION #2: REVEAL
We’ve all got quirky proclivities and out-of-the-way interests. So what are yours? What so-called “nonspiritual” activities do you love and help you find spiritual renewal?
The first time I got on a friend’s paddle board, I fell off—repeatedly. But the second time around, magic happened. Not only did I find my footing, but I also found a pod of dolphins pursuing a school of fish up and down the coast. They swam around my board, encircling the fish and feasting while I watched with awe. I felt like I had stumbled on a burning bush, a holy place, and I was immediately hooked on paddle boarding.
I didn’t see it at the time, but those dolphins were an image, an icon of something for which I was deeply longing. Here were these glorious mammals doing exactly what God made them to do—being social, playing, exercising, and working together. And I wanted more of that in my life.
It took me some time to understand that, though. I thought paddling was the thing I wanted. I bought a board and started going out alone, but I would often come home in the same mood as when I left—disgruntled by choppy waters or oppressively hot, stagnant air.
Eventually, two good friends bought boards and we developed a practice together. On Saturday mornings at sunrise, we would gather at Mobile Bay. On a good day, the rhythm of the water kept our boards gently bobbing up and down while we paddled along and shared about the ups and downs of the last week. When the weather didn’t cooperate, we would sit under a pavilion drinking coffee and catching up. Regardless, I went home re-anchored in who I was.
QUESTION #3: CONFESS
Every superhero has a weakness. Every human, too. We’re just good at faking it. But who are we kidding? We’re broken and in this thing together. So what’s your kryptonite and how do you hide it?
I struggle with self-care. I grew up in a spiritual climate where being Christian meant self-sacrificing and focusing on the needs of others. As an overachieving teenager, I worked hard to kill the parts of me I perceived as selfish, and I strove to be a needless, wantless superhuman who could always give and never need to receive. I thought I was building the kingdom of Jesus, but I was building a false self.
That false self began to crumble in my late 20s. Loneliness came because I didn’t know how to reach out to friends. Anxiety came with various physical ailments. I would forget to eat and have crippling stomach pain at the end of a church event.
But it wasn’t until my wife and I got married that my false self in Jesus-looking clothing was revealed for the naked lie it was. I would blow up, blame, and criticize when I was lonely, hungry, and tired. Instead of taking responsibility for my basic needs—sleep, food, and friendship—I expected others to take responsibility for me.
Today, I still struggle with developing and maintaining healthy practices of self-care. It took me 30 years to build a false self, and it will probably take at least as many to nurture the real one. But those first two painful years of our marriage drove me to begin a healing journey. With a lot of help from therapists and friends, I slowly began to discover the real me, who is both a great servant and also a vulnerable child, hungry for love.
QUESTION #4: FIRE UP
Tell us about your toil. How are you investing your professional time right now? What’s your obsession? And why should it be ours?
I spend my creative energy writing modern musical versions of the Psalms—ancient Hebrew poetry that is disarmingly honest. It has become a healing practice for me and a way I can invite others into a more authentic relationship with God.
Several years ago, a pastor asked me to try writing short refrains for various psalms that we could sing in church. I accepted the challenge because I wanted to grow as a songwriter but had no idea that it would become an integral practice in my own healing.
Every week for the next three years, I wrestled with a different psalm, trying to feel its emotions and put it into modern language.
I had to sing about anger, sadness, fear, shame—you name it. Whatever emotion you can think of is probably in the book of Psalms. For someone who had spent most of my life in church trying to hide, it felt radically vulnerable.
But the experience of singing the psalms really unlocked for me their power to transform. God didn’t give us a book of poetry because he wants to teach us new ideas. He is after our hearts. He wants us to be honest, to feel our feelings—however scary that may be—and bring them to him.
So I write and record these psalm songs, and I get to share them on Spotify, YouTube, and other platforms. I even travel to churches and college campuses to sing and share about the psalms. It’s such a joy to see lightbulbs come on as people experience God’s invitation to come be honest, known, and loved.
QUESTION #5: BOOST
Cashiers, CEOs, contractors, or customer service reps, we all need grace flowing into us and back out into the world. How does the Holy Spirit invigorate your work? And how do you know it’s God when it happens?
The best moments for me as a songwriter are when a psalm I’m working with illuminates something in my own heart that was hidden. Maybe I’m working on a psalm of lament. My focus is on the craft, capturing the author’s meaning in language that packs a punch, has meter, and is singable. But then I zoom out and actually “hear” what the psalmist is saying: “Lord, I’m hurting! Do you see? Will you help? Please hear me!” (or something like that).
Suddenly, I’m not just a songwriter in the workshop; I am a human being, feeling my own pain and bringing it to God. The psalm gives me language I didn’t know I needed, waking me up from my numbness. It surprises me when this happens, but I immediately feel that God is with me, that he gets what I am going through, and that he wants to hear more.
I feel similarly enlivened when I share a new song with a group of people and get to watch them experience it. Often, I’m unsure whether the song is good or complete enough, so I feel vulnerable. But when I see friends (or strangers) respond with emotion, I feel a tremendous affirmation of God’s presence in my work.
It still seems miraculous to me that the fruit of my labor—usually done in private with a journal, Bible, and piano—can resonate with another person in a way that draws them closer to God.
QUESTION #6: inspire
Scripture and tradition beckon us into the rich and varied actions that open our hearts to the presence of God. So spill it, which spiritual practice is workin’ best for you right now?
I’m a recovering spiritual overachiever and perfectionist. So spiritual disciplines are tricky for me. Am I doing it right? Am I good enough? Those questions run silently in the background of my mind and can turn any spiritual exercise into a harsh self-evaluation. So after years of striving for regular quiet times or reading the Bible with great discipline, I am now trying to rebuild my spiritual life with practices that simply help me experience myself as beloved.
Here is one of those practices: I sit still and try to be present with myself for five minutes. If weather permits, I’ll go outside or find a corner of the house where I can’t see any chores calling me. I close my eyes, breathe, and listen. What I hear is usually not great—anxiety about tasks left unfinished or fear that I’m failing.
When my mind wanders, I say aloud, “Here I am, Lord.” After the silence, I grab a journal and write about what I experienced. What usually emerges is not some great voice-of-God moment but simply the fruit of self-awareness, which I find makes communion with God possible.
As I become aware of how burdened I am, for example, it makes space for me to experience compassion. It’s hard to put into words, but on good days, it’s like I can see God seeing me with kindness. God is looking at the storm of my thoughts saying, “It’s okay. I love you.” And if I can hear that, that’s enough.
QUESTION #7: FOCUS
Our email subscribers get free ebooks featuring our favorite resources—lots of things that have truly impacted our faith lives. But you know about some really great stuff, too. What are three resources that have impacted you?
First, I would say Terrence Real’s book I Don’t Want to Talk About It: Overcoming the Secret Legacy of Male Depression. How’s that for a title? I have a hard time convincing people to read it, but it was profound for me. Reading it raised my awareness of how our constructs of masculinity have suppressed parts of my essential God-given humanity.
For instance, we tend to teach boys to disassociate from their feelings. People tend to see it as “unmasculine” to express pain or sadness, and we discourage it in boys from a young age. Relationality is another. In myriad ways, we raise boys not to have intimate friendships. (Hint: if you can’t talk about your feelings, you won’t have very intimate relationships.) As a result, so many men don’t know how to make or maintain meaningful friendships.
I was a lonely, emotionally unaware young man when I read this book, and it helped set me on a path toward emotionally integrated, relationship-oriented living.
Pete Scazzero’s Emotionally Healthy Leader podcast has been an orienting guide for me as I’ve tried to navigate being a “professional Christian” and staying awake to what’s real in my own heart. My church in Alabama went through the book together, and it had a profound impact on our staff.
There’s an album of sacred music called Among the Thorns by my friends at Pillar Music that has been a balm for me in various circumstances. The music is simple and calming, not to mention beautifully recorded. I especially like their song “Prayer of St. Francis.”
We all have things we cling to to survive (or thrive) in tough times. Name one resource you’ve found indispensable in this current season—and tell us what it’s done for you.
I’m reading Curt Thompson’s The Soul of Desire: Discovering the Neuroscience of Longing, Beauty, and Community, and it’s giving me new language to talk about what has been a life-changing experience for me over the past several years.
Curt talks about “confessional communities” that he runs—places where a therapist facilitator invites a group of people to journey together in a radically safe, confidential space. It’s a place where people can work through their deepest hurts, traumas, and areas where they feel stuck in the context of a community, not just a one-on-one therapist setting.
What’s profound about the book is how he connects current findings in neuroscience with that experience, showing that our brains can really only heal and develop new neural pathways in a relational environment.
In other words, we can only unlearn relational trauma by experiencing relational health.
The book has had me shouting, “Yes! That’s it!” because I’ve experienced what Curt is talking about at the Men’s Coaching Weekend retreats led by my therapist, friend, and mentor, Phil Hardin. Picture 10-15 men spending a weekend together, creating a safe community, sharing their stories, and receiving supportive feedback from each other.
I’ve attended more than a dozen of these weekends, and my experiences there have been the single most significant way God has brought healing to my life. Curt’s book has helped me retrospectively understand and explain what I’ve experienced. It’s also reignited my passion to share that sort of experience with others.
QUESTION #8: dream
God is continually stirring new things in each of us. So, give us the scoop! What’s beginning to stir in you but not yet fully awakened? What can we expect from you in the future?
Okay, this feels way vulnerable, but here I go.
For several years, I’ve wanted to develop a retreat that invites creative professionals to experience healing. I want to integrate the psalm songwriting experience I’ve had with the relational healing environment of the Men’s Coaching Weekends that have been so profound for me.
Most of the breakthroughs I’ve had in my craft came when I was having breakthroughs in telling and understanding my own story. So I’ve dreamed about creating an environment where creatives can not only share their stories but also create art that expresses aspects of their story.
What would it look like for artists to practice biblical lament through the medium of their craft? How might it unlock their creative potential to do this in a safe, supportive community? I dream about building a retreat model that offers this sort of experience.
I’m not exactly sure where to start, so this has been just a vague dream for some time. But I hope I’ll re-read this interview several years down the road and say, “Ah! There it was! I said it out loud for the first time, and now look at what’s unfolded!”
We were made for community. While it may feel natural to isolate ourselves when we’re hurting or ashamed, that’s the exact opposite of what God has called us to do. Instead, he tells us to “confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed” (James 5:16, ESV).
Did you catch that last part? That you may be healed.
Our God knows exactly what we need for true, lasting healing. Yes, it starts with being with him. Yes, it involves being alone in his presence, meditating on his love and truth. But it also requires relationships—the kind of authentic community where you can safely share who you are and where you want to be. The kind that points you to Jesus, holds you accountable, and compassionately helps you back up when you stumble.
Do you have that kind of community, friend? If not, what is God calling you to do this week to join or cultivate one?
Wendell Kimbrough is a singer/songwriter and worship leader reimagining the Psalms for emotionally honest worship. His music makes space for the whole range of human experience, from lament and anger to playful celebration. With singable melodies steeped in the sounds of folk, Gospel, and soul music, Wendell’s songs are sung in churches around the world. He’s currently releasing a new song every month to his supportive community on Patreon. He lives with his wife and two daughters in Dallas, Texas, where he serves as artist-in-residence at Church of the Incarnation.
