Growing up in a ministry home, church wasn’t just a weekend thing. It was a way of life.

Our house bustled with activity as my parents, Rod and Shelley Solomon, hosted a steady stream of parishioners, evangelists and missionaries.

My father was executive pastor and worship leader at an Assemblies of God church in Birmingham, Alabama. My mother was the children’s pastor.

From an early age, I shared my father’s love for music and worship. By eighth grade, I felt a clear call to full-time ministry. I led worship during our church youth services and worked local music events.

While still in high school, I began interning with my dad, hoping it would be the start of many years of ministry together. But everything changed two years later.

After the Christmas service on Dec. 20, 1998, our family headed north to spend the holidays with extended family in Ohio and Kentucky.

Before leaving town, we had our own celebration at home. We exchanged gifts, laughed, hugged, shared a meal, and made sweet memories — not knowing these would be our last together.

As an 18-year-old, I felt confident behind the wheel. When I offered to drive so my dad could rest, he agreed.

While traveling through the night, the weather suddenly turned cold. Although the roads appeared clear, black ice began to form as we approached the Tennessee border.

Our car hit the ice, spun out of control, and flipped several times.

When the vehicle came to a stop, I looked over and immediately knew my dad was dead.

Breaking the glass, I climbed out to search for my mother and sister, Danielle.

I found my mom, who was also deceased.

Danielle was fading in and out of consciousness. I knew she didn’t have much time.

Running into the road, I tried desperately to flag down help, but cars just flew past. Finally, I saw a semi-truck quickly approaching. I stood in the middle of the highway, arms wide open, praying the driver would stop. He did.

Alone, I broke down and cried out, “God, my whole life my family has served You. Why would 
You allow this?”

In the ambulance, I overheard a medic saying, “Two fatalities. One critical.”

At the hospital, as doctors treated my cuts and removed glass from my body, someone came to talk with me, confirming my worst fears: “Your sister probably won’t make it.”

I asked everyone to leave the room so I could have some time with God.

Alone, I broke down and cried out, “God, my whole life my family has served You. Why would You allow this? Why would You take my parents this way? Where are You?”

Angry and shattered, I told God honestly, “If You don’t speak to me right now, I don’t know if I can keep believing.”

The Lord met me in that moment. He didn’t erase my pain, but He calmed my heart.

In the midst of trauma and tragedy, God gave me a profound sense of peace. The Spirit’s presence enveloped me like a warm embrace. I sensed God saying, “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

When the medical team returned, they said, “Your sister somehow made a turnaround. She’s going to survive.”

A few Sundays later, I stood at the front of our church — in the very spot where my dad had led worship for years. That day, before hundreds of grieving people, I led worship.

It was as if my father’s mantle fell on me. I knew this is what I was born to do.

For the past 26 years, I’ve led worship and shared the hope of Jesus. I’ve spoken to thousands of young people, telling my story and reminding them that even in the hardest moments, God is still good.

I don’t lead worship to entertain. Instead, I want to see people experience God’s presence, because that’s where I found renewed healing, peace, and joy.

After the accident, doctors predicted my sister would never walk again. Not only does Danielle walk without a limp today, but she’s also a wife and mother of three. God still works miracles.

My wife, Jessica, and I have four children, all of whom are serving God. Most Sundays, we worship together as a family.

Looking back, I see God’s hand on my life every step of the way. Even when I didn’t understand, He was guiding me. And He’s not finished.

During a recent sermon, our pastor encouraged the congregation to worship even when it’s hard — especially when it’s hard.

I’ve lived that message. When it feels like the world is falling apart, God’s goodness doesn’t change. He is near to the brokenhearted, and He meets us right where we are.

This article appears in the Fall 2025 issue of Influence magazine.