About Justin Michael
Songs for the weary and worn-out
About Me
Welcome in. I’m so glad you’re here.
I guess the first thing I’d want you to know about me is that I’m just a guy with a guitar. I struggle with shame, doubt, and brokenness just like everyone else. But I use that guitar — and even that shame — to point to something real: hope.
Originally from Compton, IL, I moved to St. Louis in 2016 and have put down roots here. I got married in 2016, and these days it’s me, my wife, our dog, and the home we’ve built together. I lead a Bible study and play in the worship band at church.
So yeah… I’m just a regular guy.
The truth is, I’m tired of pretending I have it all figured out. I don’t. I’m a hot mess some days. But being a hot mess means there’s really only one direction left to run — toward the open arms of the Father.
If you’ve ever felt like you’ve been running too long, struggling too hard, or messing up too many times… if you’ve ever worried that God might finally walk away — I’ve been there too.
That’s why I write these songs.
To point us back to the God who knows our name and loves us despite every time we fall short.
So go ahead — put your feet up and stay a while.
No more running. No more hiding.
He’s got you… and He’s not letting go.
Why I Write
I could spend hours sharing my story. Honestly, I’d love to connect and do just that.
But for now, here’s the short version.
When I was in high school, what is there to do in a small town except get bored and get into trouble? My best friend and I — let’s just say — were somewhere we weren’t supposed to be… and we got arrested.
Handcuffs. Flashing lights. Interrogation. Jail cell.
The whole nine.
You have to understand — I was a good kid. I never got in trouble. So when this happened, I felt like an outsider. Like I had finally proven to everyone that I was messed up and had everyone fooled.
I felt abandoned. Rejected. Like just being around people would turn them into a bad kid, too. Alone.
But one night, Jesus changed everything.
I was sitting at my desk, full of angst and self-loathing, replaying everything I had learned about Jesus since becoming a Christian. And somehow, one truth broke through the noise:
He wanted to be my friend.
Despite the mess.
Despite the mistakes.
Despite the shame and the brokenness.
He saw it all… and wanted me anyway.
So I started following Jesus, and my life began to change. I stopped trying so hard to be the “cool kid.” I didn’t want to swear anymore. I started trying to respect my parents more. To be kinder to people.
And I learned something early on that has stayed with me ever since:
My identity is in Jesus.
It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks of me. I’m loved. I’m His.
Now, do I still mess up? Absolutely. More times than I’d like to admit. But every single time, I’m met with mercy. Every time I’m reminded that Jesus is still my friend — and nothing I could ever do is going to change that.
So my mission is simple.
I want to offer hope to people who have been desperately looking for it. I want to point you to the rest you might have missed because you’ve been running so long. I want to point you to a Friend who knows everything you’ve done — past, present, and future — and loves you anyway.
I write these songs because I need to be reminded of that truth just as much as anyone else.
If they resonate with you too, then all glory to God.
I’m just a guy with a guitar out here trying to do my best… and you’re welcome to join me in the middle of the struggle.
Sounds That Shaped Me
Before I was a Christian, I was drawn to bands like Green Day and My Chemical Romance. There’s just something about thick, overdriven guitars that still resonates with me.
After I came to faith, I found myself pulled toward songs that didn’t try to hide flaws and failures. Artists like Casting Crowns, Tenth Avenue North, and CAIN wrote lyrics that connected deeply with my story while still carrying a sound I loved.
My hope is to honor both sides of those roots — creating music that is sonically engaging and lyrically honest about the places where real life and real faith collide.