A couple of years ago, I was in London for a creative conference, and I ended up grabbing dinner with a close childhood friend.
As we sat across from each other catching up on life, she shared how she had recently come out of a season of running from God. And somewhere in the middle of our conversation, she told me about a mentor who had spoken these words over her:
“Stop living like an orphan… you’re a child of the King.”
I haven’t been able to shake those words since.
Because if we’re honest, I think there are always parts of our lives where we slip back into that orphan mindset. Places where fear convinces us we’re on our own. Places where we feel like we have to protect ourselves, prove ourselves, or carry the weight of the world by ourselves.
And slowly, without realizing it, we begin living like love has to be earned.
Like belonging is fragile.
Like we have to fight to keep our seat at the table.
But that’s not who we are.
CHiLD OF THE KiNG was written as a reminder of that deeper truth.
As an adoptee, questions of identity and belonging have always sat close to the surface for me.
Questions about where I come from.
Questions about whether I was wanted.
Questions about how grief and love can somehow exist in the same story.
But over time, I’ve come to believe that the Gospel meets us precisely there.
Not by pretending those wounds don’t exist.
Not by asking us to ignore the ache.
But by speaking a truer word over us in the middle of it.
Beloved.
Chosen.
Wanted.
Known.
Children brought near by grace.
This song is meant to feel joyful. Free. Almost celebratory. But underneath that joy is something deeply steady:
You do not have to run.
You do not have to hide.
You do not have to earn your place.
Jesus already calls you beloved.
My hope is that this song would meet you wherever you find yourself today. Whether you’re full of faith, struggling to believe, carrying grief, healing slowly, or simply trying to make it through another ordinary day, may you be reminded of what has been true all along:
You are not forgotten.
You are not alone.
You are a CHiLD OF THE KiNG.
— Zawadi
CHiLD OF THE KiNG
HOME iN THE FAMiLY OF GOD
We spend so much of our lives looking for home.
Sometimes we find glimpses of it—in people, in places, in moments that feel like they might last forever.
And sometimes we feel how fragile it all can be.
HOME iN THE FAMiLY OF GOD was written in that tension.
Because the Gospel doesn’t just offer us forgiveness…
it offers us belonging.
Through Jesus, we’re not just made right—we’re brought in.
Welcomed. Adopted. Named as sons and daughters.
Given a place at the table.
Not because we earned it.
Not because we got everything right.
But because the Father wanted us there.
This song is an invitation to come home again.
To lay down the striving.
To release the fear that you don’t quite fit.
To step out of the quiet ache of feeling like an outsider…
…and into the reality that, in Christ, you already belong.
Home isn’t something you have to build on your own.
It’s something you’ve been brought into.
A family formed not by blood,
but by grace.
And like all true homes, it’s a place where joy and sorrow can sit side by side—
where you are fully known, and still fully loved.
My hope is that this song would meet you wherever you are—
and gently remind you of what’s already true:
There is a place for you here.
You are not alone.
You are not forgotten.
You are home.
— Zawadi
i HAVE A NAME
There’s a question that sits underneath so much of our lives:
Who am I, really?
i HAVE A NAME was written from that place.
As an adoptee, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about names—what they mean, who gets to speak them, and how easily they can be shaped by the voices around us. Names can carry beauty. They can carry expectation. Sometimes they even carry wounds.
But beneath all of that, there is a deeper truth.
Before anyone else had something to say about you…
before the world tried to define you…
before your story felt clear or confusing or unfinished…
You were named.
Not randomly. Not accidentally.
But intentionally—by a Father who sees you, knows you, and calls you His own.
This song is a joyful return to that truth.
It’s a reminder that your identity is not up for negotiation.
It doesn’t rise and fall with your circumstances.
It isn’t determined by what you’ve done or what’s been done to you.
You have a name.
And it’s spoken in love.
My hope is that as you listen, you would begin to hear that voice again—steady and true—cutting through every other voice that’s tried to tell you who you are.
And maybe, in a fresh way, you’d remember:
You are known.
You are wanted.
You belong.
— Zawadi
i CHOOSE U
This song is an invitation—for you.
i CHOOSE U was written out of our family’s adoption story, but it’s meant to meet you wherever you find yourself today. In the beauty and the grief. In the hope and the waiting. In the ordinary moments where love is quietly, courageously chosen again.
You may not have an adoption story of your own… or you may be living one right now. Either way, you know something about choosing—about staying when it would be easier to walk away, about loving when it costs more than you expected, about saying yes again after a long night or a heavy season.
This song was shaped by small beginnings and long faithfulness: a coin jar adoption fund in a tiny apartment, whispered prayers in hidden places, paperwork filled out late into the night, and a single photo that changed everything. It’s a reminder that family isn’t formed by blood alone, but by a love that shows up and keeps on choosing.
Adoption is never simple. It holds joy and loss side by side. And yet, every morning you’re given the same invitation—to choose love again. To choose presence. To believe that this kind of love matters.
My hope is that as you listen, this song would bring a little light into your corner of the world. That it would remind you that you are chosen—first and always—by a Father in heaven who calls you beloved, and who invites you into the holy, everyday work of choosing love in return.
From my family to yours.
— Zawadi
JESUS iS ALWAYS WiTH ME
There are seasons when the days feel heavy.
When language runs thin.
When the most honest prayer we have is simply, “Are You still here?”
JESUS iS ALWAYS WiTH ME was written for those moments.
Not as an answer—but as a reminder.
A small, steady truth meant to walk with you.
This song isn’t meant to be rushed through. It’s meant to be carried.
You might begin your morning with it—letting the words settle before the noise of the day.
You might return to it in quiet moments—on a walk, in the car, between meetings.
You might share it with someone you love and let it open space for conversation.
You might sit with it in prayer or journaling, noticing where Jesus has been present all along.
At work.
At home.
In joy.
In grief.
In the ordinary places we often overlook.
This month, I invite you to let this song become a gentle companion—helping you notice Jesus not just around you, but with you.
Wherever you go.
Listen when you’re ready.
Carry it with you.
Notice Him anywhere.
— Zawadi
THE JUSTiCE SONG
Justice is such an interesting word. We hear it in politics, in pop culture, even in our churches. But I think Christians have always had a unique relationship with it.
Our God sees the world - sees us - and recognizes our brokenness. And we can’t escape the truth that we all had everything to do with that brokenness. If justice simply meant getting what you deserve, then I think we’d all be in trouble.
But the justice I find in Scripture is almost a paradox. God’s justice is somehow inextricably linked to His goodness. It is judgment and grace together. We are utterly broken people, yet through Jesus, somehow capable of the greatest good. And Jesus is always inviting us to come and join Him on the side of that good. There’s a verse in the Bible that says it’s God’s goodness that leads us to repentance, and I think about that a lot.
My whole life I’ve wrestled with the question of why didn’t my birth family want me? Why did they give me up? My mother died in childbirth with me and they blamed me for her death. I suppose somehow in their mind, that was the justice that I deserved. The thing is, that’s not justice. That’s not goodness. They were simply acting out a role that had been handed down to them through cultural norms and traditions.
But even in the midst of such tragedy and abandonment, God’s goodness was already writing another story. God’s goodness had inspired a young European couple to give 27 years of their lives to a continent they had never known, to learn cultures and languages they had never spoken, to love a people they had never met. And when the knock came on their door about a little baby - unwanted, rejected, abandoned - it was God’s goodness that led them to say yes. Yes, we will take him. Yes, we will love him. Yes, we will raise him to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.
It was God’s goodness that did that. And that’s something I’ll never get over.
- Zawadi