The trinity of sound that carries souls home
There is something sacred about sound waves traveling through air to reach the human ear. Words spoken in conversation carry truth between minds. Worship sung in melody carries hearts toward heaven. And beneath both, the Word made flesh—the divine Voice that spoke creation into existence—continues to echo through every human expression that points beyond itself.
These three are not separate performances but one sacred symphony. The same God who inhabits the praises of His people also inhabits the honest conversations where broken hearts find healing. The same Spirit who inspired Scripture also inspires the melodies that carry prayers too deep for words. Every moment of authentic communication becomes communion.
Here, in the space where microphones capture whispers and melodies carry longings, the voice that points beyond itself finds its most intimate expression. Not entertainment plus spirituality. Not music with Bible verses attached. But the recognition that all sound—from spoken word to sung worship—has always been an invitation to hear the Voice that first called light out of darkness.
When words are spoken with love, they echo the Word who became flesh to dwell among us. When worship rises from authentic hearts, it harmonizes with the song of creation itself. And when both point beyond the speaker and singer to the One who gave voice to the voiceless, sound becomes sacrament.
Podcast: The voice that points beyond itself
This is where neuroscience meets the sacred. Where the storytelling brain encounters divine mystery. Where I’ve learned that the most profound healing happens not when I have answers, but when I’m brave enough to admit I have none.
I study how stories reshape neural pathways, how narrative creates meaning, how the brain processes trauma and hope. But in hospital corridors and coffee shops, I’ve discovered something neuroscience textbooks never taught me:
Some stories can only be understood with the heart.
This isn’t your typical podcast. No easy answers. No spiritual formulas. No promises that faith makes everything comfortable.
Just incarnate love in broken places. Sacred seeing in ordinary moments. The courage to be vulnerable when vulnerability feels like bleeding publicly.
Each episode asks the question that haunts every honest believer: What if our wounds aren’t obstacles to overcome, but doorways to enter?
The series is growing. More stories. More conversations. More moments when the mask falls off and love becomes incarnate.
For hearts brave enough to believe that sometimes the most sacred ground is found in the most broken places. For anyone who suspects that every voice pointing beyond itself might just be pointing toward Christ.
I’m not the voice that matters. I’m just pointing toward the One who is.
Album: Broken Into Beautiful
After months of melodies written in the darkest hours, and words that bled onto paper, “Broken Into Beautiful” is ready—my first English album that tells the story of what happens when life shatters us… and God makes us art.
Eleven cinematic anthems born from shattered alabaster jars, liquid prayers that flow like tears, masks falling away to reveal authentic hearts. Music born from the cracks, from the fractures, from everything we’ve learned to hide.
Picture stadium-sized choirs singing your most intimate prayers. Orchestrations that carry melodies you can’t shake. Vocals that make “Do You Want Healing?” feel like both question and declaration.
I wrote this for anyone who knows what it feels like to be broken. For hearts that have whispered “do you want healing?” in hospital corridors. For souls that have stood at their own Red Sea, wondering if they should give up in the final hour.
These aren’t just songs—they’re cinematic prayers with earworm melodies that lodge in your heart. Worship that meets you in the mess and doesn’t try to clean you up first.
From “Liquid Prayers” to “Babylon Cannot,” every track asks the same question: What if your brokenness isn’t the end of your story, but the beginning of your masterpiece?
The broken pieces of our stories? They’re not mistakes to be fixed. They’re raw materials for something beautiful.
Where every crack becomes a place for light to enter, and every shattered heart becomes a symphony.