WHEN I CAME TO THE END OF MYSELF...
I was in front of Him like a plain block of marble…
No face, no shape, no lines, formless,
A life hazed by the chains of convention…
Yet He saw through it.
He walked around me the way a sculptor circles a stone,
seeing not what I was,
but what had been buried beneath years of not being seen…
He touched the surface....
and every place His hand rested revealed
a fracture I had hidden.
Not to shame me,
but to show me where the hammer must fall..
He struck.
Not in anger,
but in precision...
each blow removing a lie I had agreed to,
each crack releasing a weight
I was never meant to carry.
Shards fell.
A silhouette emerged.
A line sharpened.
A purpose awakened.
And then the chisel slowed...
not breaking but shaping.
Cutting grooves of discipline,
etching patience into the grain,
carving courage where hesitation of truth once lived.
Every tap-built character that remained
long after the dust of my former self settled.
He refined the edges of my will,
smoothed the roughness of my pride,
hollowed out the places where ego hid.
He carved depth into my convictions,
integrity into my stance,
and strength into the quiet parts of my soul.
And when He stepped back,
dust drifting around the feet of who I used to be,
He smiled…
because the man He unveiled
was never new to Him…
only new to me.
I was born again…
In his mighty and powerful name
The only I AM…
CAPT PLT