My name is Lilly Goyah and when I was fourteen, I was suicidal.

I had grown up in a volatile environment. I was raised by a strong, immigrant single mother who struggled to provide for her kids in an unknown country. As a result, we found ourselves living in every form of housing: homeless shelters, cars, friends' homes, and wherever else we could go. We often relied on food and clothing drives for our basic needs. It was a lifestyle I had grown accustomed to.

Then it seemed like we finally had a breakthrough.

A generous man offered to allow us to stay with him until he found new housing and would give his home over to us. Those were the best few months of my life. It was our first time living in a real house.

One day after church, we came home and found the locks changed.

The landlord had evicted us. Our belongings had been bagged up and given away. All we had to our name was the car and a bag of white clothes from laundry day that we hadn't brought inside.

We were back where we started.

Mary's Place.

But something about this time was terrifying.

Life was taunting us with the reality that we would never amount to anything. While we were at Mary's Place, my world turned bleak. I remember thinking the worst possible things about myself, but those thoughts felt more like damning facts.

I was poor, dirty, dumb, homeless, fatherless, and incapable of advancing in life.

The thoughts grew ominous and loud until I decided the only way out was to kill myself.

I settled my heart and didn't tell anyone.

As if an angel had prompted her, my mother decided to force us to attend a youth retreat in Washington, D.C. It was the worst sixteen-hour trip of my life.

One night, the dance team performed an interpretive dance to My World Needs You by Kirk Franklin. The dance told the story of a young boy struggling with suicidal thoughts who was about to commit his final act when an angel stopped him on account of his praying mother.

The dance was touching.

But the music...

The music spoke directly to my soul.

Every note felt like a hug, only it penetrated more deeply than any hug. It was the first time I had heard a Christian song like that and the first time in a long time that I had seen light.

Life didn't become magically perfect after that.

It didn't need to.

I found something special that made enduring the darkness worth it.

That experience changed the way I understood music.

If my spirituality were to have a shape, I believe it would be in the shape of a music note.

I've used music as a tool—a connection between me and God. I believe there is something spiritual about music. It's one of the only forms of communication that transcends language. Humans love it. Animals love it. There are even studies showcasing that plants love it. Music has amazing healing properties, and it helped connect me with God and even hear God at my lowest.

As I got older, I started asking a different question.

If music had the power to reach me in my darkest moment, why was it so difficult to find Christian music that reflected the creativity and diversity of God's people?

I began searching everywhere.

For years, I built libraries of Caribbean Christian music, African Christian music, and independent Christian artists from around the world. I kept thinking, It shouldn't be this difficult.

People shouldn't have to know what they're are looking for before they can find it. It should simply be there. Easy to access. Easy to discover.

The deeper I researched the Christian music industry, the more convinced I became that there was an extraordinary world of Christian creativity hiding in plain sight. I realized that what had helped me survive in my depression wasn't just faith in the abstract. It was faith played out through real human experiences, documented and highlighted in stories of redemption.

I believe everyone is creative. We simply express that creativity in different ways. God gave humanity the ability to sing, to make music, to harmonize, to create every sound, every genre, every form of musical expression we can imagine. But so much of that wasn't being showcased.

That's why ANP exists.

I want to build something that matters.

I believe music can save people in ways we don't always talk about. I want to create a space for healing, worship, and honesty for people who often feel left out of those spaces.

My hope is that this has a lasting impact on Christian creativity, Christian identity, and personal relationships with God.

More than anything, I hope it helps people build the habit of seeking Him personally.

Do you know God?

Do you experience Him?

Do you recognize His voice?

If no one else were listening, if you weren't trying to give the "right" answer, could you honestly say you know how He shows up in your life?

That's the habit I'm hoping people develop.

To seek Him for themselves.

To experience Him for themselves.

Because the song that changed my life reminded me of something I'll never forget:

My world needed Him.

And I know I'm not the only one.

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Lilly Goyah

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