The people
behind the
music.

Jonah Whitaker has been part of Shunned at a Funeral since Lystra. He is Kendra’s cousin, which explains the nickname. To the band, he is simply “Cous”: reserved, dependable, and thoroughly at home holding down the low end while the rest of the music stretches out above him.

His bass playing brings precision without crowding the song, favoring texture and atmosphere as much as weight. You can hear the sensibility behind his influences—Mariusz Duda of Riverside, Colin Edwin of Porcupine Tree, and John Myung of Dream Theater—in that care for a foundation with room to breathe.

Cous also contributes percussion, carrying the same instinct into another part of the arrangement: listen closely, find what belongs, and make it count. Quietly trusted by the people around him, he gives the band something essential to lean on. He may leave the spotlight to the others, but the ground beneath their feet is very much his department.

He would happily have skipped this page altogether. Unfortunately for him, the band insists that someone keeping this much music together deserves at least a paragraph. His preference for no attention and no credit has made “the drummer who shall not be named” a running joke—and, now, something of an official title.

Behind the kit, there is considerably less mystery: an incredible sense of timing, fast feet, and distinctive fills that give each transition its own character. He knows when to drive a song forward, when to ease back, and when the best thing a drummer can play is absolutely nothing. The others appreciate that last skill more than they probably should.

For him, this is ministry: an opportunity to serve the music and help carry the good news of Christ. If the message reaches someone, the work has done what he came to do. You can leave his name off the credits. Just don’t ask the band to imagine the songs without him.

Ethan Howard began playing guitar at fourteen, drawn to the weight of Metallica and the intricate ambition of Symphony X. That same year, he was diagnosed with a progressive eye disease. As his sight has declined, performing guitar live has become increasingly difficult. His place in music has continued to grow through songwriting, musical direction, and the work of bringing other musicians’ gifts together.

The catalyst for Shunned at a Funeral came at his grandmother’s funeral, where Ethan experienced being shunned by his brothers. That painful moment became the starting point for a project centered on God’s grace, forgiveness, and redemption. At its heart is the glory brought to God when sinners are made alive and restored to Him—a conviction that gives the music both its urgency and its hope.

As the project’s creator, Ethan brings its many strands into conversation: heavy guitars, country and Celtic textures, cinematic storytelling, and theology that asks something of the listener. For nearly fifteen years, he has also been a professor of geospatial science. He sees God’s hand in the way his background in music, filmmaking, technology, and theology has come together here, as though years spent working across different disciplines were preparing him for this particular work.

His writing owes a particular debt to Gerard Manley Hopkins, especially “The Golden Echo.” Hopkins’s unusual rhyme patterns, alliteration, and richly interwoven sounds have helped shape Ethan’s ear for language. In these songs, words carry rhythm as well as meaning: sounds answer one another, phrases gather momentum, and unexpected pairings give familiar ideas a different light.

Closer to home, Ethan is a single father to two beautiful children, whose lives have inspired some of his most personal writing. “Twirl” and the forthcoming “Go Forth My Son,” planned for a 2027 album, belong to that part of his story—the love of a father finding its way into a song.

He is happiest behind the curtain, connecting people, shaping ideas, and helping a vision become something others can hear and see. Though he created the project, attention has never been its purpose. What matters to Ethan is what the work points toward: the grace of God, the hope of restoration, and the life that can grow where a story once seemed finished.