Today we’d like to introduce you to LaBresha Saulsberry.
Hi LaBresha, so excited to have you with us today. What can you tell us about your story?
My Story Begins as Such…
When I was just a little girl, maybe 11 or 12 years old, alone in my room at night with my favorite boombox. There was just enough space between the bed and the dresser, and with the lights out, I would dance in the dark and spend time with God. That was my norm. Once I said goodnight, that was how I closed out my day—not just going to bed, but going into this sacred space. I didn’t realize it then, but something was being cultivated in me. These weren’t just childhood moments; they were encounters.
I grew up in church, but somewhere along the way, I started to ask deeper questions: What does it really mean to love God? I heard people say all the time—“Love God with all your heart”—but I wanted to know that love for myself.
So I gave my heart to Him. Not at a church altar call, but during a youth program held in an apartment community room. During that time I was going through major transitions with my family dynamic and school and God’s presence became even more tangible to me. I began to seek Him personally, to build my own relationship with Him. And somewhere in the middle of all that, He gifted me with the ability to dance.
Let me be clear—I did not have natural rhythm. Ask my mom! She’ll tell you she tried to teach me how to keep a beat, and it just wasn’t clicking for me. But one day, I came into the living room while she was talking with a close friend, and I said, “Mom, look what the Lord has done!” I had a song and a dance to show her.
She probably thought, “What is this child talking about?”—but when I danced, something shifted. I believe she encountered God in that moment, just as I had. Because the daughter who couldn’t keep an eight-count was suddenly moving with grace—and it wasn’t mine. It was His. That moment, that shift, was the seed. That was the beginning of this journey.
Funny thing is—when you look back, you start to realize just how intentional God is with every detail. That dear family friend who was sitting in the living room with my mom that day? I would come to later learn, she was moved by what she saw—not just emotionally, but spiritually. God was using me to encourage her. She later shared that experience with her pastor and told him he had to include me in their next youth program. Now, here’s the twist: this pastor led a church that didn’t really embrace music and the arts as part of their worship. But something about that moment—the movement, the message, the Spirit—impacted him. And that opened the door for me to minister through dance for the first time in a public community space.
That moment sparked something that continued to grow. One opportunity turned into another. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege to dance across the Twin Cities—in churches, yes, but also in places where you might not expect worship to show up: weddings, funerals, anniversaries, neighborhood events, health awareness programs, even National Night Out gatherings and state conventions.
God took something personal and private—just a girl dancing in the dark—and turned it into something deeply communal. It’s been more than performance; it’s been ministry. A way to bring healing, joy, and God’s presence into rooms that needed it, in ways I couldn’t have planned or predicted.
But before I go into how this journey also pulled me into leadership at a young age, there’s something important I have to share—a lesson my mom made sure I understood early on: “Who do you dance for?”
Because of the specific kind of dance I do—it’s not performance for applause. It’s worship. It’s ministry. It’s not about the reaction of the crowd, but about glorifying God through every movement. It’s about heart posture.
When I dance, I’m not showcasing skill. I’m offering surrender. And that mattered especially in my story—because remember, I wasn’t born with rhythm. I wasn’t a trained dancer. This was never about talent. The fact that I can dance at all is by His grace. And that’s what makes it sacred. My mom helped ground me in that truth early, and I carry it with me to this day. It was through this that I began to learn what it meant to be anointed.
If you’ve never heard that word before, let me explain. Anointing is when God sets someone apart for a specific purpose—it’s a spiritual marking, a kind of invisible oil. In church, you might see someone anointed with physical oil on their forehead, a blessing prayed over them for protection or calling. But the anointing I’m talking about isn’t always something you can see—it’s something you can feel. You can sense it. It moves people. The Bible says the anointing destroys yokes and lifts burdens. That means it breaks chains. It brings freedom.
So imagine being chosen by God to move people—not just emotionally, but spiritually—through something as simple and powerful as dance. That’s what I experienced, even at 12 years old. I didn’t fully understand it then, but I knew who I was dancing for. And that awareness kept me grounded as doors began to open and leadership opportunities began to form around this gift I had been entrusted with.
While God was using me across the Twin Cities — dancing most weekends at churches, community events, weddings, and more — He was also beginning to stretch me in leadership.
At a young age, I found myself leading dance ministry within my home church. I was choreographing, teaching, mentoring, and sometimes even leading community-wide dance expressions. Dance became more than an outlet — it became a passion tied to purpose.
I like to think of it like a magnet. On one side, you see the dance itself — the movement, the grace, the expression. But on the other side — the side that holds it all together — is my relationship with God. Without that connection, the dance doesn’t mean the same. For me, it’s not just performance. It’s ministry. Without that relationship, it would be just movement — but with Him, it’s worship. Its impact. It’s legacy.
While in middle school, I remember a school assignment that asked, “If you could create your own school, what would it be?” I knew instantly — I would create a dance school called Heartfelt Praise Dance Studio. That name reflected exactly how I felt when I danced for God: heartfelt, worshipful, and whole.
I envisioned not just dance classes, but a holistic curriculum — courses in health and nutrition, classes on biblical symbolism in colors and garments, spiritual development, and worship leadership. I had this full blueprint in my heart.
Years later, while cleaning the garage during high school, I found that very paper again. I read it, and it was like something leapt in me: this is what I’m supposed to do. That’s when I officially registered my business, Heartfelt Praises, shortly after graduating in 2008.
Though I didn’t launch it immediately, God kept me active in the ministry of dance. I traveled, I taught, and I kept seeking growth.
I began looking outside my state for exposure and development. I attended a powerful workshop in Oakland, California, at Ross Dance Company. I thought it was just a local intensive, but it turned out to be a curated, audition-based event — and I was the only one from Minnesota selected to attend.
It was life-changing. There I was, dancing alongside others with greater technical training, yet I didn’t feel out of place. I felt planted. The experience ended with an outreach performance at a gallery, where I was one of the featured solo artists. They introduced new techniques — African drums, cultural fusions, prophetic movement — all woven with purpose and spirit. I left that experience feeling seen, and more importantly, called.
Another turning point was attending the Dance Ministry Conference at The Potter’s House North in Dallas, Texas. I signed up, not knowing that I’d be invited to minister with their dance team on Sunday morning during their main service — a platform that reaches thousands.
But the takeaway wasn’t about the stage. It was about the exposure— seeing what was possible. What worship through dance could look like at a larger scale. I didn’t see it then, but God was allowing me to walk into rooms that reflected the capacity inside of me — rooms that stretched my vision for what was possible in my own region.
Later, I enrolled in an online dance ministry intensive — a training that covered everything from flag and intercessory dance to community outreach and prophetic movement. Completing that 9-week course training confirmed that this wasn’t just a passion. This was preparation. And through it all, God kept giving me glimpses of what was ahead.
From ministering in Newark, New Jersey, at a dance conference, to winning first place in an Pan African Queen Pageant & Talent Show in college, to being one of the first artists of color featured in the Northern Lights Minnesota initiative exploring climate change and cultural expression—this gift has made room for me in ways I never imagined!
Each of these experiences — from local revivals to national conferences — were like divine breadcrumbs, leading me back to that original vision: a space where dance, worship, leadership, and healing collides.
That paper I wrote in middle school wasn’t just a class project. It was a blueprint. And years later, after much shaping and refining, I heard God say clearly: “Now, it’s time to start that business.”
Starting something that’s bigger than you — something rooted in purpose and calling — isn’t easy. It takes courage. What most people don’t talk about is what lies beneath the surface of entrepreneurship and ministry: the unseen cost. The real-time stretching of your faith. The emotional and spiritual warfare.I’m just getting started, and already I’ve learned this journey is not for the faint of heart.
Up to this point, I haven’t gone deep into the struggles — not because they weren’t there, but because I needed time to process what those challenges really were. If I had to describe them in one word: Refining.
There’s a song I danced to years ago — “He’s Preparing Me” by Daryl Coley. I was 17, preparing to graduate high school, and I had no idea how deeply those lyrics would follow me into adulthood. I remember Ministering that solo in church, and even though I didn’t fully understand the weight of the words then, I felt them.
One thing I’ve always done when preparing for a dance is meditate on the music. I’d listen to it on repeat — in the car, in my headphones, late at night — not just to memorize movements, but to become one with the message. That practice planted seeds in me I didn’t even know I’d need later. Those same songs, those same lyrics, come back to me now — not as background music, but as reminders of what I’ve survived.
He’s preparing me for something I cannot handle right now…
He’s making me ready just because He cares…
He’s providing me with what I’ll need to carry out the next matter in my life…
That’s what the challenges were. Preparation.
Whether it was being misunderstood, overlooked, boxed in, or questioning if I even belonged — every obstacle was a tool in God’s hands. Every closed door, every uncomfortable stretch, every season of invisibility — it was all training ground.
There were moments of opposition, of jealousy, of inner wrestling — wondering if I was enough, wondering why it had to be so hard just to walk in obedience. But now I can say: the trials humbled, matured, and built a kind of resilience that cannot be taught — only lived.
And here’s the beautiful twist: the same gift that sometimes stirred the pot… is the gift that grounded me.
Dance has always brought me back to center — back to God. It’s where I’ve processed pain, found clarity, and offered surrender.
So yes — the road hasn’t been smooth. But it’s been sacred.
And if I had to walk it again to become the woman, the minister, the leader I’m becoming today — I would.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
Where I Am Now: Cultivating Purpose, One Step at a Time
This season of life — right now — is something I never imagined would be part of my journey. And yet, here I am, walking in purpose I could have never scripted on my own. It’s just the beginning, and I feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface.
Today, I stand as a solo artist and facilitator. I’m often invited to participate in workshops, seminars, and youth conferences — bringing not just movement, but ministry. I serve as an artist mentor with Inverted Arts. I partner with summer programs like Hope Academy, using dance to help students connect with their emotions, their identity, and the truth that they are made in God’s image.
I’m also the founder of Judah N Company — one of Minnesota’s only Praise Dance companies focused on teaching the biblical understanding of dance as worship. We serve youth as young as 4, all the way through adulthood. Though I don’t yet have a physical building, I’m standing in faith — believing one is on the way.
A Final Word
To the girl dancing in her room with nothing but a boombox and a big dream — thank you.
To the teenager who kept showing up, even when it was hard — I’m proud of you.
To the woman I am now — keep going. You were born for this.
And to the reader, whoever you are:
Your gifts are not random.
Your story is not an accident.
And your calling is bigger than you think.
Whether you’re a dancer, a dreamer, a creative, or just someone who’s trying to figure it all out — know this: God wastes nothing. Every struggle, every delay, every hidden season is part of the preparation.
So walk by faith.
Move with purpose.
And never forget — sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do…
send your praise first!
How do you think about luck?
On Luck, Faith, and Favor
If you’ve made it this far in my story, you might ask, “Was it luck?” How did all these moments align? How did doors open? How did I make it this far?
Here’s the truth: I don’t thrive on luck — I thrive on faith. I live by it. I move by it. And I build on it.
The Bible says, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” That’s been the blueprint. I had hope in things I hadn’t touched yet — dreams I hadn’t lived yet — but still, I spoke them. I said, “I’m going to start a dance studio one day.” I didn’t even know the “how.” I just knew it was planted in me.
It took faith to hear God and to position my heart in a place to receive His timing. It took faith to leave what was familiar — places and people I’d known all my life — and to go tread a new path I didn’t expect. It took faith to take the leap, even when the support didn’t look like I imagined. That’s the part people don’t talk about. The solitude. The quiet moments between the promise and the platform. But I walked by faith anyways.
In faith, I heard God say, “Change the name. Register it.” And that’s when Judah N Company was born.
In faith, I offered a pilot dance class to the community. I didn’t know who would come. I didn’t know if anyone would come if I’m honest. But they did. And now, nearly two years later, I’m still standing — not just offering classes, but running a real business. Professionally.
Another component to my journey is this word called favor. It was God’s favor that moved a close family friend to go back to her church and speak my name. It was favor that led a pastor, in a denomination that didn’t normally embrace dance, to reach out and invite me in to dance. It was favor that made me the youngest youth leader in my church, which taught me how to build something from the ground up. It was favor that opened grant opportunities so I could carry my own vision and tell my community’s story through movement — creating community engagement skills in me. It was favor that allows me to juggle adulthood, a full-time job, and entrepreneurship — and still have students show up consistently, week after week. Believe it or not but it’s God’s favor that sustains me and the fact that you’re reading my story right now.
And that favor? Is not just for me. I believe I’m being shaped, refined, and developed so I can be a visible sign for the next generation — for the little girl who loves God and loves to dance but doesn’t know yet how those two passions can coexist. I want her to see that it’s possible. That faith, creativity, and calling are not separate lanes — they’re intertwined.
At the end of the day, dance is just a tool; a vessel; a bridge that God uses to reach hearts. I’m just one of the willing body’s He moves through.
And I’m still moving — still being prepared, still being stretched. But I know now: this isn’t random. It’s divine alignment. And I’m walking in it — by faith, not by sight.
If I had a stage name, it would be Gracefully Anointed — because it’s only by His grace that I’m anointed to do this. To dance this way. To lead this way. To live this way.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://judahncompany.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/gracefullyanointed
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BreeSauls820/
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/labresha-saulsberry-20a50084/
- Youtube: https://youtu.be/HIP3oR-ZVnc
- Other: https://youtu.be/4dwC5j0DBIg
