Phyl

Fall, redemption, from rock and roll star to pastor in training, Phyl’s journey is the road less traveled

On a cold night of December 2013, I sat down for dinner at my aunt’s dining table in the warm embrace of my estranged family. Their faces were familiar, their love was real but the picture felt foreign. They had just started to become a part of my life the previous year and this was only our second attempt at becoming a “normal” family. At the time it felt like I wasn’t even there. The isolation I was experiencing in that moment was a reflection of the desperation and emotional pain I had suffered for many years. Everyone around me cared for me and loved me but my mind was trapped in a distant land, tormented by destructive thoughts. It was a time where I could barely contain my tears long enough to see their faces distinctly, let alone witness their joy. My entire being was aching and everything was darkness in my life.

In the midst of my solitude and despair, something about my uncle caught my eye. He was a man who dealt with tremendous pressures and responsibilities every day, but his attitude never wavered. After dinner I approached him and asked if we could talk. He took me to his office and patiently waited for my tears to dry out. After gathering myself I muttered: “How come you never get angry or sad? I see you dealing with stressful situations every day and you’re always full of joy. My life is a mess and no matter what I do, everything turns to ruin.” I was barely able to finish my sentence before my emotions spiraled out of control. What he said thereafter changed my life forever: “Do you expect to have a different dish if you put all the same ingredients into the same pot over and over again?” I knew exactly what he meant and those words cut through my soul like a double-edged sword. He continued and said “the reason I never get angry or sad is because I have a friend I can always turn to for guidance and comfort.” I naively asked him, “cool, can you introduce me?” He smiled and paused before he said, “his name is Jesus Christ.”

At the sound of his name, I burst into tears, as I imagine the prodigal son did thousands of years ago when he plunged — defeated and humiliated — into the arms of his loving father.

Could this Jesus bring light into my darkness?

Later that night, I stepped outside in the cold winter snow, got down on my knees and begged, “God if you really exist, I give you permission to take control of my life. I’ve tried my own way and have failed time and time again. I give up, I can’t do this anymore. I hate this life. Get me out of this place…”

My life was radically different before I surrendered ownership of it to Jesus Christ.

I was born into a Christian family but God wasn’t really part of my education. Both of my parents are from Brazil but I was born and raised in Belgium. My grandfather on my mother’s side is a pastor but I unfortunately never benefited from the sound foundations of his Christian faith until I turned 32. My parent’s violent separation at the age of 5 led to the abandonment of my mother and her extended family. This created a void which never ceased to increase. A series of disappointments and multiple betrayals in my teenage years made me very angry at the world. My only way out at the time was through music.

I became the singer of a hardcore heavy metal band when I was 16. We were idealists. We fought for animal rights and our lyrics were very political. Most of us came from broken homes so loud angry screams and powerful guitar riffs seemed like the perfect way to vent our pain and frustration. We toured Europe extensively a year later and went on to sign a record deal with the biggest European hardcore record label at the time. This gave us more visibility and access to bigger platforms and bigger tours. In July 2001, we became the first ever European hardcore band to tour the US. It wasn’t a big tour but for five 20 year old kids, it was wilder than anything we had ever dreamed of doing. With the exposure and achievement came tremendous pressures from record labels, managers, promoters and fans. We were young, naïve and inexperienced.

A few months later, there was so much tension between us, we parted ways in the most destructive way. We started our journey as brothers – thick as thieves – but we ended up backstabbing each other until hatred became the last man standing. Seeing my closest friends leave my life revived old wounds of the past. By the age of 21, I had lost faith in family, friends and people. I became this dark version of myself and I set out to avenge the pain I continually experienced growing up by treating everyone else like they were lesser beings. I became extremely arrogant and the accolades I received from my musical accomplishments didn’t help tame the monster.

A year after the split, I was recruited to join another band and became one of the lead singers/guitarists and songwriters. Having learned so much from my previous experience in the music business, we turned it into a “carefully marketed emo boys band.” To tell you the truth, we spent more time straightening our hair and working on our stage presence than actually working on our music. If you’d see the pictures, you’d laugh. Our music was good, but not as good as our brand identity or our synchronized leg kicks. I was just starting my career as a graphic designer and this was the perfect outlet to put everything I learned in college into practice. We quickly started touring in Europe but contrary to my early days, it wasn’t about defending ideals anymore but was more about success.

We were on the road a lot and with the touring came the lifestyle. With no values to keep me grounded, the passion for music gave way to a passion for parties, success and women. Drugs, alcohol and sex rapidly took center stage. The rest was simply dead weight. On the surface, it seemed like I was having the time of my life. But deep down… It was a different story. I was sinking into depression and addiction. One by one, my lifelong friends tried to rescue me by calling for group interventions but I was too stupid and full of myself to listen. I lost some really good friends and hurt some really good people.

In January 2006, I went on the biggest tour of my life. I played in 21 different cities and 11 countries in the span of 23 days. On the night of my 25th birthday, we were playing at a renowned venue in Germany where legends like The Who and The Beatles had played many years before us. That night, I became the worst version of myself and did something I never thought I was be capable of. I remember looking in the mirror after the fact and not recognizing the man I had become. How had I sunk so low? Where had the idealist run off to? I came back from the tour and tried desperately to get my life back together. It worked… but only for a while.

Because of growing tensions within the band, partly due to my destructive behaviors and bad attitude, the other lead singer suddenly left the band on the eve of a tour without notice. I felt abandoned all over again. What I didn’t know at the time was that I was creating this pattern in my life because of my behavior. One can only imagine how a victim of a childhood abandonment would react 20 years later to a similar situation, only this time under the influence of toxic mind-altering substances. Without a platform to sing from or the comfort of praises, all that was left was the drugs, the booze, a nagging ache and a deafening void. I was 26, broke, an addict and I was living with my parents. It was humiliating. I felt forced to give up on my dreams of becoming a rock star and had no other choice than to focus on my career as a graphic designer and get myself a “real job.”

I was recruited that same year by the head of the Levi's marketing department after she saw one of my illustrations in a trendy magazine. And so I began my career in advertising. If you know anything about advertising, you'll know that it's no different from the world I had spent the last ten years of my life in.

The parties and glamour continued, except this time I was making more money and traded beers for champagne. I was hungry for success and wanted to be the best. I won my first award in 2009 and gradually gained national recognition throughout my career. I moved my way up the ladder and ultimately became the head of the design department for a large European agency. I was fortunate to work on some great projects and work with some seriously talented people but no matter how many awards I received or how many big contracts I signed, the void followed me. I remember sitting at my desk one day thinking, “is this all there is?”

In November 2016, I had a profound encounter with God that ultimately resulted in me moving to Sydney to pursue His call and purpose for my life. God radically opened my eyes that winter. He helped me realize I wasn’t living the life He intended me to live. I suddenly awoken to the reality that every experience, good and bad led me to Jesus Christ. In a moment, the pain of the past turned into gratitude. That day He gave me two verses. The first was Genesis 12:1 – “The Lord had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.” The second was Joshua 1:9 – “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

I didn’t know what I was saying yes to but I knew it was going to be far and I would need courage. That day I made the decision with God that I would spend the rest of my life using my gifts so He could bring healing to those, who like me, had lost all hope in life. In that time I thought back to that cold night many years ago. The hopelessness and despair I once felt that cold night of December 2013, gave way for Jesus to bring hope and peace and light into my once dark and desolate life. I have yet to stumble upon a word that adequately describes how grateful I am.

My journey has taught me many things but if there’s one thing I believe I should highlight, it’s that success means nothing and fulfills nothing. Seeking validation from others leaves you empty and insatiably thirsty. Whether you were like me and are trying to fill a void or whether you secretly dream of success and wrap it all in a nice holy and godly robe, self-glorification in a robe is still self-glorification. Thrive, but be humble enough not to seek a position or a title. Success to me today is being obedient and faithful to God. So stop trying to be the best. Instead, be the best you can be in the eyes of your Creator.