Ellie Holcomb

Singer and songwriter Ellie Holcomb is no stranger to sorrow. In fact, she recently wrote an entire album about it titled "Canyon." But she also is well acquainted with hope, and it's the deep, liberating hope that only Jesus can give. She says, "As I did grieve, I encountered the empathy of God in a powerful way."

But the presence of sorrow doesn't mean Ellie is lacking in blessings. Far from it. She knows every good thing in her life is from her heavenly Father, including her beautiful kids; husband, Drew; and a successful music career, complete with multiple Dove awards and co-performances with Third Day, MercyMe, Steven Curtis Chapman, Amy Grant, Chris Tomlin and more.

In today's interview, you get an insider's look at Ellie's adventure with Jesus, her grieving and healing process, and the resources that pull her closer to Jesus.

The following is a transcript of a live interview. Responses have been edited and condensed for brevity and clarity.

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?

There is a restaurant in our neighborhood in East Nashville called Lockeland Table. It’s locally owned and operated and a place where you’re going to see somebody you know. I try to walk by a lot because there will usually be people I know eating on the patio. And I have two favorite things to order — I’m a both/and kind of girl. I love their wood-fired pizzas, which they make every day. But they also have this incredible dish, which I usually split with my husband, Drew. It’s a steak with chimichurri sauce and fresh green beans. I like sharing and trying a lot of things, but usually, we split this one. And then we typically get whatever fresh local vegetables are available from their garden.

But here’s why I love it. Drew and I travel so much for work, and it’s just very grounding to have a place where you feel like you’re known — and where you’ll see people you know. It’s like Cheers, where “everybody knows your name.” It’s a beautiful thing. But even more than that, I feel like the folks who run it are just really good neighbors. In the wake of the EF4 tornado that hit Nashville in March, they threw a block party. They just cooked and fed anyone who wanted and needed to come and eat and be together

They have the pulse of the needs of the neighborhood. They understand the heart — the heartbeat of our area. Inside, they have a community table, where you may end up eating with eight very different people. And they have a community happy hour where everything is half-price because they want to make their food accessible to everybody. It’s a legit happy hour, but they don’t call it that. They call it “community hour.” And that’s why I love it so much; it embodies community for me.

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?

I love doing so many things, but the first one that comes to mind is this: there’s something about being in nature that’s always helped me understand the heart of God. I especially love water. I love being in the water. I think I love it because water always moves to the lowest place, and it carries us there if we just breathe, heart to the sky, arms wide open and let go. It makes me feel very small to be in the water — in a good way — and yet it makes me feel held too. So I love just floating, whether by myself or on a paddleboard. It helps me to come alive but slows my heartbeat down, too.

Now, here’s something that makes my heart beat fast. Every five years or so, Drew and I take an adventure. We pick something hard. For example, we were supposed to go to Kilimanjaro this year. But because of COVID, we’re going to summit Teton instead. There’s something about doing something hard, something you have to prepare for a little bit, something that maybe feels a little above my capability, that makes me feel like a kid again. And there are lots of metaphors too — like the difficulty of just being human. I mean, it’s hard to be alive. It’s hard to be a human. It’s hard to be broken. But it helps, it builds resilience, to lean into discomfort, to do something that makes me uncomfortable, to do something I haven’t done before. I mean, Drew and I are not hikers. But every five years or so, we’re like, “OK, let’s get out of our comfort zones.” And almost always, if I can breathe through the hard parts, there is just so much beauty and reward and joy on the other side of it. And it’s also really fun to do it with the person I love the most — to experience it together.

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 have a hard time with boundaries. I have a hard time saying no. I want to do everything. I say yes a lot and I get myself into serious trouble. The problem is I really do enjoy everything. But when you say so many yeses, you end up not doing some other things. But when I overcommit myself, it takes me a long time to admit that I’m in over my head. And my husband takes the brunt of it. When I’m stressed out, when I’m overcommitted, I end up taking it out on him — mainly because I don’t have any energy left. I’ll give and give and give and then end up not having enough energy and time and attention for the person I care about most in the world.

I’m also not good at self-care. I enjoy so many things that I tend to over-extend myself and crash. When I’m stressed out, I typically just plan more things. I think I’m scared to slow down, scared of what it might feel like. So, it’s easier to just keep going, to keep busy, than it is to sit down and actually deal with some of the things that are going on beneath the surface.

But, I got a serious dose of slowing down this past year. So, it’s been really powerful — to learn the power of slowing down, of breathing, the importance of being quiet, the importance of listening. I do a lot of talking in my life, and it has been really good for me to listen more. When I’m stressed, I’ve tended to talk more. I hide stress with words and energy and excitement. But really, inside, I’m just craving a quiet evening in a garden or some time in the water or time alone at the house. But I don’t often get a lot of that. That’s why I’m in the process of trying to create rhythms of Sabbath. Resting is just really hard for me, but it’s so necessary.

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?

It has been such a joy to make music in this season. My husband and I did this thing when COVID hit. He was like, “You know what? Music has always been a balm for us.”

Jeff Tweedy says it like this: “We go hear live music so we can suffer together.” Songs give us an invitation to be human together, and that includes the full spectrum of humanity — from sorrow to rejoicing.

So Drew said, “We’re going to sing our way to the sorrow.” And we did what we called Kitchen Covers. We shot videos of the two of us covering other people’s songs in our kitchen every night during COVID and put them on YouTube. And it was beautiful.

A lot of my toil this past season, though, has been learning to grieve the pain in my own story, my deepest wounds. And I wrote a whole record about that process — because, as I did grieve, I encountered the empathy of God in a powerful way. Grieving brought healing to the places that I thought would kill me if I ever visited them. Instead of death, I was given new life — as I visited those places and just allowed myself to breathe and grieve. So I’d written this whole record, and was getting ready to release it when that tornado hit Nashville. And then a week later, COVID-19 hit. There was so much loss and trauma and political division, racial division, racial tension within the nation, but also even within the context of the church.

In the midst of all of that, I went to the Grand Canyon for the first time. We camped on the Northern Rim, went down into the canyon, rafted the Colorado River, camped on the riverbanks and rafted out. I’ll never forget it. Our guide explained that on the canyon walls is written a story — a story of disaster upon disaster, landslides, mudslides, volcano, drought. And then in the midst of that, there is this giant divide. And I just thought, “Yeah, that’s a picture of what most of our hearts look like,” especially after this year that we’ve all been through. And yet in the midst of that, in the very pit of the canyon, there is a river running through it.

When I thought about that, I wept. One, because it was 170 degrees! It was so hot. But really, I wept because it occurred to me that the canyon is such a picture of the gospel. I think my understanding of the gospel used to be “It’s a beautiful, necessary raindrop for my own story.” And then when I went to the Grand Canyon, it was as if God was saying, “It’s not just a raindrop, it’s the ocean. It’s all the water. I’m everywhere.”

That’s when I think I figured out why I love water so much — because it always moves to the lowest place. And, it turns out, there is a current of living water. There’s a current of God’s love that flows to our lowest places. It runs deeper than our deepest sorrow, ache, longing or pain. That current will carry us, if we let it, to hidden underground reservoirs of peace and life and love that we can access at any time. And it will ultimately take us back to a place where we know that we belong to love, even our most broken places, and that we belong to each other.

I learned how to grieve in the valley, in the canyon, and then I learned to sing and rejoice because of the love and the kindness of God that I encountered there. When you sing in a canyon, you wouldn’t believe how it echoes off of every single broken place in the walls. There is a multiplication that happens when you learn how to sing in a low place.

I came out of the canyon and shoved a pile of 35 songs off my desk and wrote a new record, called “Canyon.” And to me, this record feels like an invitation to laugh with the deep relief that, as it turns out, we are the object of God’s affection.

So what am I obsessed with? It’s the idea that this record is saying, “Come, all of you who are thirsty and drink. Come with me to the river.” I hope it will beckon people into the reality that we are loved, that we belong, and that, because of Jesus, suffering never has the final word. I want people to know that there’s always good cause for rejoicing no matter the circumstances

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?

I read this article recently that said, in the Hebrew language, the name Yahweh sounds just like human breathing. So here’s this God who breathes life into each of us. But then, every time we take a breath, we’re saying his name back to him. That means that every living, breathing human being is maybe praying God’s name all the time, every day — whether we know it or not.

I think breathing is a superpower. For me, in this past season, as I have exhaled sorrow, I feel like I have inhaled peace and comfort and love and belonging and belovedness — and I know that those didn’t come from me because when you’re in those suffering places, there’s no good reason to have peace.

Songwriting is just like that — like breathing. There are certainly times when you work when you’re crafting something. But, even then, I feel like I’m certain there’s been somebody else involved in my work. My friend Thad Cockrell — with whom I wrote several of the songs and whose music I love — said, “Oh yeah, just let it out of you. All you’ve got to do is let it out and just sing it out.” When we wrote songs for this record, we didn’t have any instruments or anything, and “I Don’t Want to Miss It” came out, and “Canyon” came out. I was just breathing in the goodness of God and exhaling that out, in songs. Not all of my songwriting feels exactly like that. But I know that I can’t muster up that kind of thing, that kind of peace and sense of belovedness on my own — because my natural tendency is to go to shame. You should be better, do better. So, I know that’s something other than me, and I’m grateful that I get to sing about it.

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 love this question so much. I think it’s because I have experienced so much of God outside when I am in his creation. Well, he says it. He says the heavens declare his glory. And so my curiosity is … if the heavens declare the glory of God, how does the chorus go? What are they saying?

For me, I’m a gardener. I kill a lot, but a lot grows too. And there’s something grounding about the growth process. You get your hands in the dirt. You feel connected to the earth. You think about the power of pruning, you think about that for a seed to produce life, it literally goes under the earth. It gets buried. So there are a ton of spiritual metaphors with gardening, and I learn from them.

There is a poem that I love by Dorothy Frances Gurney. It goes like this …

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.

I think of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. And the Garden of Eden, where it all started, whether you believe that metaphorically or literally. But a garden is such a good picture of where we’re meant to be — one in community, one with the earth and one with God.

Also, there is a song that I love by The Highwomen called “Crowded Table.” Gathering in the sound of laughter and breaking bread together over a big ol’ table, pulling up all the extra stools in the kitchen to tell stories and to share the conversation is, to me, maybe one of the most spiritual acts that we can do. It feels like a protest of the darkness all around this.

There is a great book titled “Every Moment Holy” by Douglas Kaine McKelvey. He writes liturgies for ordinary moments — for the pouring of coffee, for the changing of a diaper, for road rage. Or for the beginning of a book. For the ending of a book. For the beginning of a holiday at sea. For stargazing. For the building of a fire. It’s totally in line with this idea of there being no separation between the sacred and the secular. I highly recommend it.

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 some resources that have impacted you?

Golly. I have a lot, but because I’m currently in a raising-children stage of life, I want to mention “The Jesus Storybook Bible” by Sally Lloyd-Jones. That book has been such a gift for me personally but also for our family. We’re wired for story and she pulls stories together in such a beautiful way. Her book is a daily practice for the Holcombs. We’re actually taking a break right now because we’ve read it so much. It’s a really great tool for starting conversations with my kids. It’s actually led them to invite Jesus to be in their hearts. It’s been incredible. Both of my older kids have said that they want Jesus in their hearts just from our conversations about that book. It’s crazy. I told Sally, “Well, thank you so much. You’re the missionary to my own house.” She’s a dear friend of mine. So, I’m really grateful for that book. And it’s not just a picture book. She also has a paperback entitled “The Story of God’s Love for You.” It has the same words as “The Jesus Storybook Bible,” just without the pictures. So, those books have been great resources.

I also want to mention the “Gifts of Imperfection” by Brené Brown. That’s the book I read when I first started my counseling journey. And man, I feel like she kind of repeats the invitation to all of us that where there's truth, there’s freedom. I recommend her TED Talks too. All of her resources came to me in that season of counseling.

I have another one, but it may not be for your readers. I’ve been reading a book called “The Gift.” It’s a book of poetry by a man named Hafiz. He is a Sufi master, which is the mystic wing of Islam. But it turns out it's the same God — the God of Abraham. Hafiz does talk about Muhammad sometimes, but when I’m reading his poetry, I’m like, this guy knows the God that I know. It’s wild. Not that I’m converting to Islam or anything.

He has a poem called “This One Is Mine.”

Someone put
You on a slave block
And the unreal bought
You.

Now I keep coming to your owner
Saying,

“This one is mine.”

You often overhear us talking
And this can make your heart leap
With excitement.

Don’t worry
I will not let sadness
Possess you.

I will gladly borrow all the gold
I need

To get you
Back.

The poems in “The Gift” have been good for my heart in a lot of ways.

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.

Here’s the one thing I can’t do without. I’ve started this practice called Lectio, which is listening prayer in the Ignatian tradition. There is this book, “First We Were Loved” by Gail Worsham Pitt. It walks you through a year of praying through Scriptures in the Ignatian model of prayer. Each day, it suggests Scripture — for reading and meditation and listening to the Holy Spirit. Her book has been a vital thing for me, as well as the Enneagram. Richard Rohr’s book, “The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective,” has been transformative too.

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?

I am getting ready to release “Canyon,” so there will be some touring that goes along with that. Touring always scares me because sometimes it means leaving my kids behind and sometimes it means bringing them on the road. Also, because we’re entering this post-COVID world, I am having a both/and sensation — feeling absolute delight in the anticipation and feeling like, “Oh, my gosh. Do I even remember how to do this?” Touring happens at a different pace than what I’ve gotten used to over the past year. But, I would say, the overwhelming feeling is gratitude. It’s just good for us to be together and to sing together.

I recently led a luncheon at the Southern Baptist Convention. They’re in the midst of a great struggle right now, for a variety of reasons. There were some heavy hearts there. But it was just beautiful to sing together. There were 800 of us at this lunch singing “How Great Thou Art.” I just need to hear people singing beside me because we were made to live in community. We’re made to remind each other (and weary souls when they forget) about the goodness of God. So I am excited about touring.

And then, I have been memorizing Scripture for over a decade now. I’m not very good at it, but it’s changed my life. It hasn’t necessarily changed my circumstances, but it’s changed my heart. I just finished writing a book called “Fighting Words,” which is what we call the scripture that we memorize. It’s a devotional, but it’s less of a book and more like an invitation to memorize some Scripture and bury some treasure right inside of you.

To be putting so much creative content out into the atmosphere feels like scary new territory but also really exciting territory. This book is different than anything I’ve ever done before. I’ve always written books for children, not for adults. And so, it feels pretty new — and a little intimidating. But I just want to give my surrendered yes to whatever God is calling me to.

No matter where you live, what you do for a living, or who you know — you’ve likely faced heartache. Suffering is no respecter of persons. Tragedy happens to us all, and it’s why Jesus came to deliver us from sin and its painful effects.

Yet many of us don’t know how to respond to tragedy. Many would rather get swept up in the busyness of everyday life. Work. Taking kids to school. Rushing to your next class. Finishing that next big project. Most of us have a lot to keep up with, so we focus on that instead.

That’s why we love what Ellie shared about her grieving process. As she surrendered and allowed Jesus to heal her heart, it wasn’t pleasant — not at first, at least. It was a struggle to reopen those rooms of suffering. It hurt to remember the pain and grieve over it.

Today, we invite you to search your heart. Could there be pain or tragedy in your life that you haven’t truly dealt with yet? Is Jesus gently beckoning you to let him grieve with you — and heal you in the process?