“Can These Bones Live?” : When Passion for Worship Feels Lost

There are moments when God doesn’t speak in full sentences, just one piercing question that rests in your spirit like a holy echo.
This past Sunday, I felt one of those moments.

A question rose quietly but firmly in my heart:
“What stole your passion for worship?”

Now hear me, this wasn’t because I’d stopped singing.
I still show up. I still lead. I still serve.
But deep inside, worship started to feel like a duty instead of a delight.
A job. A task. A role to fill, not a fire to burn with.

And when I sat with that question, I began to trace where things shifted.
And I realized; it happened when worship began to feel more like entertainment than encounter.
When excellence mattered more than presence.
When the altar felt more like a stage.

My spirit became vexed. I didn’t fully realize it then, but looking back, I can see how that atmosphere affected me.
I was grieving something sacred… but still functioning.
Going through the motions. Leading with a cracked heart.
And though I’ve continued to minister, I’ve quietly wondered if I’d ever feel again what I once knew so intimately.

A Valley Full of Memory

Then this morning, I heard another whisper.
Three simple words, heavy with hope and mystery:
“Can these bones live?”

Immediately, I thought of Ezekiel.
Standing in the valley of dry bones.
Looking at what once had breath.
Hearing the Lord ask him what seemed like a loaded question.

And Ezekiel, full of reverence and honesty, responds:
“O Lord God, only You know.” (Ezekiel 37:3)

That hit me hard.

God wasn’t asking Ezekiel about bones that had never lived.
He was asking about something that had once been alive.
Once thriving. Once breathing. Once standing.

And the Lord showed me something so tender:
My passion for worship wasn’t artificial.
It didn’t fade because it was fake.
It faded because it was mishandled.
Because it was offered in environments that weren’t safe.
Because it was poured out in places that treated the sacred as common.

But if God breathed it into me once…
If the fire was once there…
Then resurrection is possible.

Obedience in the Valley

This wasn’t a moment for shame.
It was an invitation to remember, and to respond.

Because just like with Ezekiel, God wasn’t just pointing at bones.
He was giving instructions.

“Prophesy to these bones…”
“Call breath back into them…”
“Say what I tell you to say…”

The Lord is reminding me:
This isn’t the end.
This is the valley of revival.
The place where what felt dead gets called back into purpose.
The place where my yes becomes oxygen again.
The place where worship is no longer what I do but who I am.

A Heart Returning

I’m no longer asking “What happened to me?”
I’m asking, “What is God instructing me to do now?”

Because the bones can live.
The fire can return.
The oil can flow again.
Not for performance.
Not for perfection.
But for presence.

So here I am, not just as a worship leader, but as a daughter—
Standing in a valley that once made me numb, 
Opening my mouth again to say:

Breathe, Lord.
On these bones.
On this voice.
On this heart.
On this calling.
Let it live again.

Written by: Ebony Headspeth