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Mighty Grace, my debut album released in 2017, was recorded on a phone and a podcast mic. The thirteen songs are raw, acoustic overflows—captured from my closet of a room. I never intended to release them as they are, nor did I imagine they would reach so many people. Over the years, I’ve most often heard stories of listeners finding a quiet sense of peace through this simple album.
Love Secrets (2019) was recorded in a home studio alongside producer and friend Dani Schick. Across thirteen songs, the album explores different expressions of God’s love—faithful, chosen, covenantal, joyful, and fatherly. Each track carries its own sonic world, but the heart of the record is singular: a willingness to step fully into the delight and nearness of God.
How It Began
My mom and pops were traveling singers. Remember those wood-paneled station wagons? Childhood home. Small quarters for me and my three older brothers. I would pretend to be Fred Flintstone while staring through the holes in our passenger seat floor traveling from church to church. Imagine desperate hope as the love offering passed across the pew.
When we settled down in the blue hills of Virginia I remember being scared of two things as a first grader: God and music. I grew up in church but I didn't get to know God. Mom was a piano teacher but I didn't touch music. God stopped being real at fifteen (too addicted to video games). At nineteen, God and I went on our first date and it was confusing. He was pissed, controlling, demanding. But also love? I felt drawn to that version of crazy and began my attempts to touch the Divine. As fate would have it: music became my medium. I fell in love with Big Mama's piano; it had been professionally collecting dust at the base of my stairs. I used cheat codes—notated scotch tape on every key—and clawed simple songs of faith.
Grumpy.
At twenty-two, God and I had been on a three-year rollercoaster and I hate those. I genuinely hated the Christian life. When I did good—it was never enough. Do this, do this, doo doo. When I failed—it was a guilt fest. Church felt more like keeping up appearances than belonging to a healthy family. Should I wear a mask today? Heavy, burdensome Christian religion. The overall impression: God is very displeased. You give so little. Spirit of grumpy. Eventually, I was brave enough to see myself to the exit and became a pot-head; high all day everyday. You know: Nutty Buddy's and failing college. Albeit, more peaceful than guilt-induced-religion.
I would curse your socks off if you killed my buzz with conversation about God. Meanwhile, deep in my heart stood the question,"Would God have me back?" Even if God wanted me back I was pretty sure I did not want Him. When guilt is the epitome of a relationship you don't exactly run home. I miraculously graduated with a Bachelor's in Music, left my hometown and ended up in the wilderness of Arkansas at the age of twenty-four. Love was waiting for me there in a Walmart parking lot. The words of a podcast-preacher cut my heart:"God wants to show Himself to you as Abba!" The words itching my ears seemed to hold substance and for the first time in my life I cried out to God, "Dad?" A warm-honeyish-hug wrapped me and I couldn't shake the feeling that God was my long-lost Father hugging His prodigal son; with many kisses. I was pleasantly surprised but flinched—imagine an abused puppy needing more convincing that his Master’s hand was safe. I thought to myself: "You've got the wrong guy, God. I suck, remember?"
eat.
God might be more like eating pie than solving a formula. I could describe to you an apple cobbler with words. Or you could take a bite—this simple, enjoyable act of delight is what will nourish heartfelt intimacy. Tasting naturally gives permission to reject plastic counterfeits. I didn't need the angry-preacher-man's fearmongering version of God after the sloppy-wet-kiss. To be fair, before personal experience, when I heard people say God was loving I thought they were just hippy-loving tree-huggers.
Growing up in the cauldron of Churchianity often left me too afraid to fully leave God and too bound to fully enjoy Him as Love. Fear-based relationships tend to keep nervous systems in constant vigilance. I continually wondered, "What about my sin?" I didn't know it at the time but this was my crime-stained-conscience crying for blood-ransom.
Praise.
2 Corinthians 5:21
God made Jesus Himself, who knew no sin, to become sin for us, so that we could become the righteousness of God in Christ.
The Bible I angrily punted-like-a-football most of my life began to feel less traumatic as I noticed a felt sense of Help to see it differently. This sin-and-righteousness exchange painted in Corinthians lightning-bolted my insides. With the eyes of my heart, I saw Jesus receiving my sin on the Cross and then it dawned on me: my conscience had always been demanding a sin-payment and I had continually offered myself as the sacrifice. I kept entering God's kitchen hungry thinking I had to provide the tasty Lamb. I worked a full-time job trying to settle my conscience with good behavior (that's called dead works) which led to inevitable exhaustion and starvation. The entirety of my Christian life was spent trying to pay for a debt that had already been paid in full and finish a work that Christ emphatically said is "Finished!". Jesus cooked such a perfect meal for us that the Holy Spirit permanently witnesses, "God will by no means count your sins against you or ever remember your lawless deeds" (Heb. 10:17).
The second half of the verse "become the righteousness of God in Christ" assaulted me further. Jesus did not become sin by doing. And I do not become righteous by doing. He received my sin and I receive His righteousness. Righteousness is a gift received. That's a relief. In basic legal terms: the courts of heaven have a clear and easy verdict. In relational terms, God is willing to enter into my need for blood—even unto death—to be with me. Love finds a way.
Grace
goggles.
I always had this neurotic ruminating question, "Am I right with God?" That thought-cycle is an eternal loop. I began asking, "Is Jesus right with God?" This closed the loop as I could no longer relate to God apart from my union with Christ. Can we just stop and have a dance party about that? I did the first time I knew and believed; wide-eyed-white-boy-celebration-jump-party on the couch. I'm hidden in Christ. He's bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. I can rest from trying to get on God's good side; I am His side. Perhaps this is what Jesus finished on the Cross: mystical, holy union. Ooey gooey, air-tight, glad tidings. Heart-emancipated, I left my rags of self-reliance and self-righteousness and rushed into Love. Christ is the solid ground that dancing can happen on.
Today, I am less afraid of both God and music. Most of my songs have birthed from the simplicity of my room and felt like exploring Love. My desire is that my music would help you rest. That you would stop striving for Love and be-loved. That you would enjoy God and let Him enjoy you.