Ahlaluyah Forever

After a long year and many collections of moments—or lives, as I often call them—I found myself writing more consistently than ever before. Between Know YAHUAH and Ahlaluyah Forever, music poured out of me. My understanding deepened. My reverence grew. Before long, it began to consume every part of my life.

The more I came to know YAHUAH, the less satisfied I became with the life I had settled into. I no longer wanted to simply know what obedience looked like—I wanted obedience to become my life.

During that season, many songs were written and released. As you continue exploring this collection, you'll discover those stories as well. But among them came Ahlaluyah Forever, a collection born from Sukkot.

Those days became a turning point for me.

I longed to keep Sukkot with all my heart. I hungered for obedience. I prayed that YAHUAH would teach me to walk in His ways. Yet my circumstances were limited. I worked long hours, my finances were strained, and I simply did not have the ability to leave everything behind and celebrate the feast the way I desired.

So I chose not to abandon the appointed time.

Instead, I transformed my living room into a place of obedience.

I bought tents. I set up air mattresses. My family prayed together. We lived as intentionally as we could, honoring Sukkot with the understanding and resources we had. It may not have looked like much to anyone else, but it was our sincere offering before YAHUAH.

It was there that these songs were born.

Sitting in that tent, deeper questions began to rise within me.

Who are YAHUAH's set-apart people?

What does obedience truly look like?

How do His people live?

Some songs came from moments of sudden revelation. Others were born from quiet palal—hours spent praying, reflecting, and sometimes lamenting over my desire to obey while feeling limited by my circumstances.

Yet even there, YAHUAH showed me something I will never forget.

He sees the heart.

What I believed to be a season of limitation became one of the richest seasons of worship I had ever experienced. From what seemed like very little, YAHUAH brought forth one of the deepest collections of praise and worship He had ever given me.

During that entire season, He would not allow me to share those songs with anyone. They remained hidden while He continued forming both the music and the one writing it.

Then, one night, while sleeping in that tent, I was awakened by a song.

It was The Esteemed One, My Mashiyha.

That song did more than become another release. It marked a shift in my walk. It reminded me that YAHUAH is not measuring our circumstances—He is looking at our hearts. What was offered in sincerity, however small it appeared, was seen by Him.

Ahlaluyah Forever is the testimony of that season. It is the sound of discovering that obedience is not measured by abundance, but by a heart that sincerely desires to honor YAHUAH with whatever it has.