The Struggle of the 90s Back in the 90s, I was trying to build a sound without the proper tools. I could slam a few chords on the guitar, but I had no idea how they actually worked together or why they mattered. I wanted to write, but I was stuck in a "secular factory"—trying to manufacture songs through sheer effort and human logic. Because the gears never quite turned, I eventually put the guitar down for years.

The Conversation In 2014, everything began to shift with a dream. In it, I was sitting with Jesus, and we were talking about music. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the weight of that conversation, but the impact was immediate: I picked the guitar back up. The "factory" was closed, and something more organic was starting to take root.

The Great Unlocking By 2020, I got serious about the "why" behind the music. I dove into chord theory, using the hymns of my childhood as the foundation for my learning. While, I thought about chasing classic rock riffs, my spirit was pulling me toward the Word. I realized that my strength as a preacher and teacher was meant to be paired with this new skill. The catalog of songs you see here is the result—a merger of learned skill and the vision that was planted years ago.

For a long time, I had grand ideas of what my ministry should look like. I wanted to be the "Great Oak"—the powerful preacher, famous and sought after, standing tall for all to see. But life has a way of humbling us. Through my own stumbles and a season of realizing my own brokenness, I had to face a hard truth: I wasn't meant to be the center of the garden.

I had a dream about a mansion and a garden, eventually realizing its true meaning. I was simply a flower in a small patch, in a quiet field, somewhere off the beaten path. And for the first time, I realized that was okay. I stopped trying to be "great" and started being "present." I began using modern creative tools—the "digital instruments" of our time—to finally capture the sounds I couldn't produce before. It started with a song called "Just a Small Place." I never finished that track, but it served its purpose: it led me back to the Word.

The Second Harvest From that surrender, a new creative vibe began to flow by God’s grace. Songs like "Lower Than the Angels" started to emerge—not as performances, but as teachings. I discovered that even at my age, God wasn't done with the soil. I am now rewriting old lessons and producing new ones, discovering that having a "Small Place" in His kingdom is the highest honor I could ever ask for.

The Authority of the Word When I speak of Truth and the Word, I use capital letters for a reason. In a world of endless opinions and subdivisions, I believe there is ultimately only one Vine, one Church, and one Faith. We may not always agree on the nuances, but there is only one Truth. My lyrics are derived directly from the text of Scripture; while I enjoy the craft of a good rhyme, the accuracy of the message is what matters most. The music is simply a vehicle for the Text.

The Weight of the Teacher I believe that individuals are the Church, and each of us will eventually give an account before God for what we have said and taught. As a teacher, I carry that weight daily, knowing that those who lead are held to a higher level of scrutiny. This isn't a hobby for me; it is a stewardship. I aim to strip away the myths and "fluff" that have settled over our traditions—especially regarding the Passion and the Nativity—to get back to the raw, sovereign reality of what actually took place.

The Sovereignty and the Stories At the heart of everything I produce is the glory and sovereignty of God. Whether I am composing a "Wall of Sound" anthem about the Throne or a simple children’s song about a biblical hero, the goal is the same: to tell the story as it is written. From the courage of David to the reality of the Resurrection, I want to present the heroes of our faith not as fairy tales, but as living examples of God’s power working through ordinary people.