Jesus wants me for a ... lawyer?

On giving up dreams and getting them back

This week, I wanted to share an essay that’s a little bit different from my usual fare. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which is a huge part of my identity and has greatly influenced the decisions I’ve made in life.

Because we’re a volunteer organization that doesn’t have paid clergy, we are frequently asked to give “talks” in church—essentially, sermons given by lay congregation members. The following is a talk I gave a couple of years ago that I’ve adapted for this format and updated. Looking back over it, I was pleasantly surprised at how well the themes fit The Fare Well Files.

That said, I know not everyone wants to read something with a religious lens, and (if it’s possible) this is slightly more personal to me even than what I’ve been posting. So I’ve paywalled this post so you don’t have to worry about it unless you’re particularly interested. For those of you in that category, or who are already in the inner circle, I hope you enjoy this very personal foray into my reasons for pursuing law in the first place.

I.

I think all of us have, at some point in our faith journey, looked ourselves in the mirror and asked: are you willing to become a lawyer for the Lord?

Here’s the thing: I never set out to be a lawyer. My dream was to be a musician.

Classical music was my youthful obsession. I wanted nothing more than to become a famous musician and world-class composer. And I was serious about it, too. I saved up my allowance for things like sheet music, CDs, and even—I’m not proud of this—those little composer busts. (Look, it’s not that weird. It was like G.I. Joes, except it was, um…Felix Mendelssohn.)

(not Mendelssohn)

I would conduct Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony¹ along with Vienna Philharmonic recordings in my room—think Star Wars Kid but with a conductor’s baton. I spent one of my teenage summers eschewing Slip ‘N Slides in favor of composing a two-movement piano concerto (total runtime: twenty minutes). I practiced piano even when my mom didn’t make me. My motto was: WWMD (“what would Mozart do?”).

As I grew up, my tastes evolved to more modern music. Instead of wanting to write and conduct symphonies, now I wanted to write songs and record albums. I applied to the Media Music program at BYU, which taught contemporary music, production, and recording. It was a competitive program, and I was thrilled when I got my acceptance. It was a bit of a dream come true.

But those older and wiser than me often warned me that the rock-star lifestyle that I imagined for myself may not be the best choice. Making it big as a musician is about as safe as playing the lottery, and even making a living is far from guaranteed.

But I didn’t personally mind a little risk. I was even fine with the prospect of life as a starving artist. It was a small price to pay for my passion. But there was one factor that weighed on my mind: