LightsOut!

16/05/2026

14/05/2026

A couple ministry days on the road for LightsOut’s tour chaplain = Check-in flight ✅, FSD-FAT ✅ Find In-n-Out w/Jesse ✅ observe sound check ✅ Check check 1-2 ✅ ✅

25/12/2025

Merry Christmas to YOU!

23/12/2025

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02/12/2025

A few photos from September’s LAPFestival in Wissen, Germany with a bunch of bands we’ve been serving for years & some new friends too! Last pic- our friend Lucas who serves tirelessly at the band camp getting a sauna ready for the guys

02/12/2025

Autograph to share?
A signature on a check is less commonplace than it used to be as most of us are using cards or digital payments these days. Regardless, our names have worth! When I was a kid, my dad often said, “When you do something, it’s like signing your name to it.” You’re putting your autograph on each thing you do or are a part of.
This past month, a band I work with gave their fans an opportunity to be on the OTHER side of the autograph line, and it blew my mind. Most of the work I do around the touring community has me seeing “fans” WANTING something—an autograph, guitar pick, drum stick, hug, a photo—something they can TAKE. That doesn’t make it weird, it’s what being a fan is usually about. But when a fan changes seats with the band, and instead GIVES to them, that is a rare and holy moment. And through this band’s fundraiser for a new-to-them tour bus, I got a front row seat to that holy moment! It’s a blessing seeing those I serve be cared for and it has even helped to redefine how I see that band’s work; their fans are joining them in ministry.
I tell you this because 1) it blessed me to see a spirit of giving from a place where I normally see getting, and 2) I want to invite you to share your ‘autograph’ – signing your name to the ministry of LightsOut by joining us. This ministry takes prayer and caring from our community, but also takes financial resources. Your partnership helps cover the costs of travel to be with artists, the salary we live on, and the rising costs of insurance for our family–all of which are covered by our non-profit. We believe that who you are when you step off stage matters. We seek to serve artists thru discipleship teaching a life of Christ-like serving, not just in the bright moments, but also when the Lights go Out. Can you help us do that with a contribution? Head over to the LightsOut Giving Tuesday fundraiser please and thank you :)

02/12/2025

It's Giving Tuesday- a big day for LightsOut, can you help us reach our goal?!?!

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23/10/2025

Sometimes people ask us about what Pastor Dave does as a chaplain to touring artists with LightsOut. Often their follow-up question is about how cool or fun the show is or the band is, and that is real- parts of every day are great. This is a good little peek into the rest of the day though- the 'tour life' that the artists we work with have as their reality. Not for pity, just for understanding - worth a quick read.

The Hidden Cost of Touring

Wake up on the bus. Don’t know the city. The time zone. You’re in Europe—can’t remember what country you’re in today. Shoes smell. Back hurts. Still fighting jet lag. No time to think. No time to feel.

Rough load-out. Bad sleep. Lukewarm shower. No lock. Forgot soap—again. Feeling low. Things unresolved at home. But you don’t say anything. Don’t want to bring others down. Don’t want anyone thinking you can’t do your job. So you push through. Take an Advil. Maybe three.

You check your phone. Text from dad: Mom’s in the hospital. No need to come home. Love you. You stare at it. When was this sent?

Then: bill past due. “When are you back?” “A/C’s broken.” “Did you get my message?” Messages come while you’re asleep. You reply at weird hours. Everything feels off.

“How you doing?” “Fine.” “Tired.” “Cool.” Keep moving. Load in. Fix gear. Skipped breakfast. Line check. Sound check. Guests. “Go for show.”

Tough show. A few mistakes. Thinking about mom. Too late to call now. Hope the band didn’t notice. Probably did.

Break down. Pack up. Bus call: 2am. Wired. Can’t sleep. Day off tomorrow. Then—repeat.

Final show. Final flight. Then—home. Crash hard. Wake up. Excited… but something’s off.

No call time. No radios. No forklift beeping. Just quiet. And it feels overwhelming. Like a loss. You miss the rhythm. The crew. Home feels distant. Routines gone. Starting back up feels impossible.

Now that you’re still… your back? It’s a herniated disc. You’ve been pushing through for weeks.

People at home missed you. You missed them. You try to explain… they don’t get it. They think it’s all fun and games. But the grind—eating, showering, no sleep, physical nature, disconnection—takes a toll. And things at home you still can’t fix.

Mom wasn’t okay. Your partner says they can’t do this anymore.

Touring gives. Touring takes. But tour won’t ever be your home—it’s not meant to be.

Take care of your relationships and your body. Stay connected to the people who know you, not just the version who works the stage.

Because someday, the road won’t be there.
And if you’ve let too much go—
the people you love might not be either.