The sound of rain
From the very beginning of this — back in December 2025, before any songs were released — there was a stirring we couldn't quite name. We put it as if we can hear it, we can see it. Like the sound of rain before a single cloud shows.
In 1 Kings 18, Elijah told Ahab to go and eat, "for I hear the sound of abundance of rain" — before there was anything in the sky. Then he bent low to pray, and sent his servant to look. Seven times. The seventh time: a cloud, the size of a man's hand. He didn't only hear the rain. He moved on the earliest, tiniest evidence of a sense in his spirit.
We'd been praying one prayer since the start of this journey — help me to see. And lately, the things we couldn’t quite name, we've begun to see.
Someone listened to Sit At Your Feetin Kyiv, on Good Friday — as far as we know, the first time one of our songs reached that nation. A song about sitting at the feet of Jesus, arriving in Ukraine, on the day the veil tore.
Friend to me and Sit At Your Feet entered Kosovo — both on Resurrection Sunday.
Our first two releases had now been heard across seven continents — sixty-three nations, more than a hundred and ninety cities. We have not been to most of them. We don't know the names of the people there. But the songs went where we couldn't.
And in the week of release, something we didn't engineer: from different people, in different moments, none of them coordinating, we kept hearing the same words back — your anointing comes from sitting at the feet of the Anointed One. The very thing the song was about, spoken over us by people who had no way of arranging it.
The rain we heard, we're beginning to see. We're still just learning to move on it.
“Elijah was as human as we are, and yet when he prayed earnestly that no rain would fall, none fell for three and a half years! Then, when he prayed again, the sky sent down rain and the earth began to yield its crops.” — James 5:17-18
