Songs from a real story.

Out now

Beautifully Blessed to Be Broken

2 versions available

“Beautifully Blessed to Be Broken” lives inside a contradiction I have come to understand more as I’ve gotten older: sometimes the thing that breaks you is also the thing that finally opens you. Brokenness is not beautiful because pain is beautiful. It becomes beautiful when something is rebuilt inside it — humility, faith, compassion, surrender, gratitude or the ability to see another hurting person differently. The song comes from that space between falling apart and discovering that God can still work with what remains. The Garage Grace Sessions version carries that same message in another presentation — less about polishing away the cracks and more about letting the cracks remain part of the testimony.

Out now

Witness and a Victim

Witness and a Victim” was born out of a personal moment, but it quickly became about something much larger than one conversation or one relationship. Over the years, fatherhood and leadership have taught me that loving people well often means seeing farther down the road than they can see for themselves. You push, protect, correct, encourage, sacrifice, and sometimes carry more than they ever know. You try to help people avoid mistakes, build confidence, find their footing, and become strong enough to stand on their own. Then one day they do. And that changes the relationship. Whether you are raising children, leading a team, mentoring someone, or simply walking closely with another person, there comes a point where the person you helped guide begins making their own decisions. Sometimes they remember what you taught them. Sometimes they resist it. Sometimes they walk a completely different direction. And one of the hardest lessons in leadership and parenthood is learning that your responsibility is not to control the road they choose, but to remain faithful to the way you led them while they were still learning how to walk it. That is where the idea of being both a witness and a victim became larger for me. We are all shaped by things we did not choose. We all carry wounds, disappointments, misunderstandings, and moments where our effort went unseen. But with time, we can also become witnesses to those same experiences. We can look back and understand what formed us, what we learned, what we passed forward, and what we need to release. Leadership has taught me that people do not always recognize the value of guidance while they are receiving it. Fatherhood has taught me that love cannot depend on gratitude. You can give someone everything you know how to give and still have to accept that their life eventually belongs to them. At its core, “Witness and a Victim” is about that tension. It is about being hurt without allowing the hurt to become your identity. It is about leading people without owning them. It is about planting seeds you may never personally see harvested. And it is about hoping that, when you look back on your life, the difference you made in someone else mattered—even if they never fully knew what it cost you.

Out now

Didn't Want to Leave

2 versions available

There are seasons when you can spend years moving without realizing how tired you have become. “Didn’t Want to Leave” came from the collision between hunger, ambition, regret, faith and the realization that some of the things we chase cannot give us what we thought they would. The song admits the contradiction instead of cleaning it up: “I wanted the crown but resisted the weight.” It moves from searching for love and purpose in the wrong places toward the cross, redemption and the possibility of breathing differently. At its heart, it is not a song about arriving. It is about realizing you were being called home before you even knew how far you had wandered. The Live Version lets that testimony stand in the open rather than treating it like something that has to be hidden or perfected.

Out now

Fits of the Faithful

"Fits of the Faithful" was born from my journals—especially the idea I've written about as "life is like last night"—and from an older song I wrote but never released called "Meet You to Reach You." Both were wrestling with wounded people. The exhausted. The restless. The ones trying to hold onto faith while life doesn't look particularly faithful back. But "Fits of the Faithful" began to feel like something different. It became heaven's response. Not an accusation toward the wounded and weary, but a call to them. A reminder that God isn't waiting somewhere on the other side of perfection for broken people to finally get themselves together. He meets people where they are. The old idea was meet you to reach you. This song carries that forward as a call to those still fighting, stumbling, questioning and getting back up. The fits don't necessarily mean you've lost your faith. Sometimes they're evidence that you're still fighting to hold onto it.

Out now

One More Day

One More Day is where all of this really started for me. I remember leaving church one Sunday and hearing the chorus come to me right then. As I prayed through what had arrived, I began to realize the song wasn't simply about wanting another day. It was about the cave. There are seasons when being hidden away with God becomes strangely precious. The noise gets quieter, and the striving starts falling away. You become aware of the Spirit in ways you may have missed while running through the middle of ordinary life. But eventually, the difficult part comes. You have to leave. Part of me didn't want to go. The cave had become close, quiet, and safe. Yet, what happens there isn't supposed to leave you afraid of the world outside; it’s supposed to give you the confidence to walk back into it. This song became the beginning of Wind & Ember’s musical journey because it captured that moment—being close to God, feeling reluctant to leave, but finally beginning to believe that I could.

Out now

My Battle Cry Is Love

For years the phrase “my battle cry is love” has represented something deeper to me than being nice or avoiding conflict. Love can be resistance. Love can be strength. Love can be the decision not to become what wounded you. For a follower of Jesus, the battle is not won by becoming louder, crueler or more bitter than whatever stands across from you. The challenge is learning to stand firmly in truth without surrendering love. “My Battle Cry Is Love” grew from that conviction. The River Testimony Session carries it as testimony rather than slogan: this is not something I claim to have mastered. It is something I am trying to learn how to live.

Out now

Beast on the Run

2 versions available

The "Never Retreat" version takes the heart of "Beast on the Run" one step further. The cave was necessary, but it wasn't home. There comes a point when what was being built privately has to walk back into the world. You don't leave because you're suddenly fearless. You leave because you've recovered enough faith, purpose and confidence to move forward anyway. This is the battle-ready side of the song. It's still rooted in the hip-hop I grew up loving—the swagger, rhythm and Saturday-night energy—but now that swagger carries something it didn't carry before. You went into the cave one person. You're coming out ready to fight for what matters.

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Maybe It Mattered

“Maybe It Mattered” came out of looking backward at years that did not always seem connected while I was living them. There were restless years. Wild years. Years spent trying to matter, trying different rooms, careers, ministries, ideas and versions of myself. There were seasons that felt productive and seasons that felt wasted. The question behind the song is simple: what if some of the things we thought were wasted were still forming us? It doesn’t pretend every mistake was necessary or every road was right. It asks whether grace can take even the wandering parts of a life and make something useful from them. Maybe the years mattered. Maybe the people mattered. Maybe even the scars have something left to say.

Out now

Smooth Ol' Originator

This song came from wanting to give my daughter a small piece of the ’90s that raised me as she headed into her first homecoming. That era had swagger, humor, scratches, drums, ridiculous confidence and music that could make an entire room move. “Smooth Ol’ Originator” plays with all of that while still sounding like something made now. There’s no heavy sermon hiding underneath this one. Sometimes the memory itself is enough. Sometimes you make something because it makes you smile and because you want the next generation to feel a little bit of what made your generation move.