Sign Your Name

This song is dedicated to Anonymous.

You’re bold. You’re opinionated. You’ve got a lot to say, and I’d love to know who I’m talking to.

“Sign Your Name” was inspired by a comment posted by Anonymous on a public platform. Say what you want. I’m not here to tone police. You just get to sign your name. Own it.

I wouldn’t call myself an R&B fan, but this groove felt right for the message. It takes me back to high school, when this sound was everywhere. There’s something about moonwalking across a stage without apology that creates the perfect atmosphere for a song like this.

If it’s worth saying, it’s worth signing. We’re not looking for perfection. We’re looking for real conversation, the kind that happens when people show up as themselves.We want to know who’s in the room. No masks required. 😉

Turn the Light on the Table

• This song is dedicated to our close friend who has walked a rough road these past two years as he has become the target of numerous false accusations. Rumor and gossip can spread like wildfire, even among those who claim to be God’s people. We have watched, up close, as this painful trial has refined and purified his soul. He has been a dear friend for over a decade, but through this journey he has become truly precious to us.

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• This song comes from a place of reflection and hope that truth will ultimately triumph. Real strength often looks like humility, patience, and integrity when everything around you feels uncertain.

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• We love you, Louie.

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Unwanted in Our Town

The world always mistook false prophets for true ones, and those that were sent of God they considered to be false prophets, and hence they killed, stoned, punished, and imprisoned the true prophets, and they had to hide themselves in deserts, and dens, and caves of the earth, and though the most honorable men of the earth, they banished them from their society as vagabonds, while they cherished, honored, and supported knaves, vagabonds, hypocrites, impostors, and the basest of men. - T&C 147:6

The Labor Divided

And it came to pass that two men together were appointed to labor in a work concerning the word of God, that it might be carried forth, taught, and understood among people in distant lands. The calling was given in partnership, that the burden might be shouldered together in humility, and that unity and counterbalance might preserve the work from corruption.

But one of the two aspired not to labor in equality. He was equal but moved to be more equal than his brother. For his heart inclined toward his singular authority, and he was troubled that the work should proceed by mutual persuasion rather than by his own righteous judgment. In time his irritation waxed and he perceived an opportunity to cut off his nuisance.

And it came to pass that he accused his brother of wrongdoing, and yet when asked to declare the matter plainly he could not support the charge with witness and fact. And the accused pled, “If I have erred, tell me my offense, that I may repent.” But the accuser answered him not.

Instead, the man drove his brother from the work, declaring him unfit, though no damage could be identified. And because the accusation did not stand openly, it was quietly carried to women aligned with the accuser so that they might hold counsel against him. 

Judgment was rendered as planned. And all nodded and agreed among themselves, “His removal is necessary, lest the work be hindered.” Thus the laborer was cut off—not for sin, but for his resistance to their secrecy, for he did not recognize their disfigured body.

And it came to pass that the Lord said it is enough — but allowed the effort to continue despite one of His laborers being cast out. He placed an ominous load upon the one who remained, saying that he alone would answer to Him when he had accomplished the future, specific work. Unlike the previous appointment, the true nature and narrow parameters of his new assignment were declared publicly for all to see.

But the lone servant, instead of receiving this charge with fear and trembling before God, inferred confirmation of his own set course. He set about his work as he had designed, this time unhindered by his brother in arms. 

A record had been rendered into plain speech so that the posterity of the common lineage could have true understanding. But the servant continued to clothe it in an ancient tongue; in a form suitable to learned scholars rather than simple disciples. He supposed that its impressive form would legitimize authority and satisfy reputation among those who seek for things they cannot understand. The book could not be returned to its original reformed and altered manner of speech; therefore the man employed scholars to instead render the plain book into the language of the learned. This would expose hearts and hold them accountable for the words of the book.

 

Certain people began to discern the stumbling block, puzzling among themselves, “Why is a record once made clear translated again into obscurity?”

 

And counsel answered, “So religious leaders may justify it.”

And others agreed, “They will surely recognize the Lord’s truth in their ancient tongue.”

Thus the language of the record became an obstacle before it was ever carried to those in the distant land. In this obfuscated state, many could be made dependent upon the stiffnecked few.

The Lord warned that many arguments among the people arise not from truth, but from pride, stubbornness, and the desire to control rather than serve. He warned that His patience should not be mistaken for approval, for though He bears with the people still, awaiting natural fruit, the season of harvest draws near.

And it was seen by those with eyes to see that contention had not arisen from doctrine, nor from sin, nor to protect the people—but from reckless indifference toward God and one another. Thus the man first removed his fellow laborer, then continued his work that would leave the masses without understanding, and rationalized both as righteousness.

Yet the vineyard yielded no natural fruit from such a course. For the Lord does not call men together to divide them by accusation, nor does He make His word inaccessible to preserve men’s position, nor does He accept a work that fails to accomplish all that is required. 

Many perceived that the laborer who cried most loudly of righteousness had rejected the very humility that righteousness demands. And so the labor was divided.

Unbeknownst to the laborers, the Lord had been preparing the ground in this distant land. He made provision that their ancient book should also be rendered into plain speech. The truth of His word, now illuminated, is available to their nation. 

The Authority That Consumed Its Own Foundation

And it came to pass that among the people a certain authority was entrusted to women. The power was given as a check and a balance, and for discernment. It was meant to hear the vulnerable, to weigh matters with wisdom, and to protect the integrity of the community. And the people rejoiced, for this power and authority was not figurative, but literal.

For a time it functioned within its purpose.

But soon afterward, the power was reshapened to conform to a pattern that had not been justified in revelation. For certain women, bound by allegiance and blood, convened councils of their own initiative, having a form of a body but denying the organization thereof. Within those councils, accusations were assembled, charges were brought without evidence nor first-hand witness, and judgment was determined before formality. The misshapen council proceeded while an accused man was absent and unable to answer.

The man was laboring in a faraway land, on an errand seeking to do God’s will among strangers, while the councils proceeded.

The women were told that this new kind of body assembled in haste was necessary. They were told it was for protection—to preserve the work—that righteous procedure must yield to necessity, though the one judged was half a world away and could not reach them.

And so the council acted.

Yet for the man, the charges were not defined and the witnesses were not named. The accused was not present.

Still, judgment was rendered.

Some among the people felt relief, believing danger had been averted. Others felt unease, sensing that something quite consequential had been set aside. For a body disfigured cannot be declared to be beautiful without destroying the standard of beauty itself.

The damage was borne not only by the accused. For soon, the people began to fear this power rather than to trust it. They wondered which disputes would be next, and whose voices would be absent when judgment was pronounced.

Women seeking to serve found their authority questioned—not because they lacked beauty, but because the standard itself  had been deformed. For when a council becomes a place where accusations are carved rather than discerned, they cease to uphold the sword of truth, displaced by a dagger. And a tool, once repurposed, does not easily return to its original design.

Thus the power given to protect was repurposed to punish. The authority given to heal was doctored to harm.  And the beauty that was given to women was made suspect—not by rebellion against it, but by defacing her visage.

And the people began to see that institutions are not destroyed only by those who oppose them, but also by those who use them to serve their own design. For power that abandons its purpose consumes its own foundation. And though the immediate harm was borne by one, the visible wound belonged to many—especially to the women whose stewardship had been undermined, and whose service would now be viewed as misshapen.

They did not understand that justice lost on a single matter sacrificed confidence in the power meant to balance the people.