Category Archives: Diocese of Amarillo

I came unclean and unnamed, knelt without argument, and felt a hand where fear once lived. I left healed, unheard, yet strangely whole—learning that prayer is not the cure for silence, but the place where leprosy finally lets go.

I asked what Spirit moved my words,
and found the answer waited there—
not in applause or polished truth,
but where the wounded breathe a prayer.

I rowed with stone inside my chest, Mistaking effort for belief. You walked beside my frozen fear And waited for my grief. Not every heart breaks with a blow—Some melt when touched by grace. You did not shatter hardened stone; You entered my small space.

I came asking for bread, but was handed a basket. I feared there was not enough, until I gave it away.

I withdrew my demand, not my devotion. I laid down the hammer to lift the lamp. For the Kingdom does not advance by erasing scars, but by letting light touch them at last.

I follow a Star I did not make, Through questions power fears to wake. It leads past crowns, past curated praise—To wounded truth and kneeling ways.

I pointed at them until my finger shook. Then John whispered: No—look at Him.

I am not the Christ.
Not Elijah.
Not the Prophet. Only a voice asking if silence is still the straightest path when the Light is already standing among us.

I ask no monument, no shouted creed—Only to be told the truth we need. For God still speaks through humble tongues, And heals the wounds we leave undone.