Who told you I was?
There was once a boy who loved God very much.
At least, that’s what everyone said.
He woke before the sun,
whispering prayers to the throne of grace, which he had heard about but struggled to feel.
hoping they would reach the ears of God
He read the Word of God
He watched his thoughts. Monitoring himself carefully.
He kept his desires on a short leash.
He wanted to be clean for God.
But the God he imagined felt far.
This God kept records.
This God stood like the men he thought knew Jesus.
arms folded, eyes sharp,
measuring who was worthy to come close.
So the boy learned to be careful.
He didn’t laugh too loud.
He didn’t ask too many questions.
He kept his longings small
so they wouldn’t be noticed.
He lived like a house always ready for inspection.
And people called him faithful.
But inside,
he felt lonely.
He felt watched,
but not wanted.
Protected by rules,
but not held by love.
And the loneliest thing in the world
is to believe in God
And never touch the truths of His heart.
One night, exhausted from trying to prepare for the next day’s Bible study,
He fell asleep with his Bible on his chest
as if even in rest, he had to prove he belonged.
And he had a dream
He found himself in a quiet church,
soft light pouring through stained glass.
At the front sat a man.
Not distant.
Not severe.
The boy could tell the man had been waiting.
The boy knew, Who was waiting.
“Jesus?” he whispered.
Jesus looked up and smiled
not the tight smile of religion,
but the wide, radiant smile
of Someone who has been longing to see you.
It caught the boy off-guard
“You’re… not like I expected,” the boy said.
Jesus’ eyes held oceans of kindness.
“Who did you expect?”
The boys gaze lowered to the carpet of the church.
His heart and mind felt connected, for the first time in a long time.
“A God upset at me.
Always watching.
Always disappointed.
Always keeping score.”
Jesus stood and walked toward him.
As He came near,
the air around them began to vibrate.
It was a warmth that reached
to the deepest places of the boy’s heart,
A part of him frozen was finally allowed to thaw.
“I am gentle and lowly in heart,” Jesus said. “I do not keep you at a distance.
I draw near.
I carry.
I stay.”
The church around them began to dissolve,
as if it had only ever been a shadow.
“I have been with you always,” Jesus continued.
“When you tried.
When you failed.
When you were afraid.
When you hid your tears.
When you thought no one saw.
When you laughed for real, and to try to make someone feel appreciated.
When they left. I was there.”
The boy’s breath trembled.
“I thought You weren’t,” he whispered.
“I was,” Jesus replied softly.
“But not to catch you. Not to grade you.
To cover you.
To guard you.
To hold you steady when you didn’t know how. My Spirit is at work in you even when you can’t feel it”
The boy began to sense that the presence before him was deeper, wider, and more alive than the God he had spent his life trying to reach.
“I’m so tired,” the boy said.
“I mess up. I doubt. I want things. I’m not as strong as I pretend.”
Jesus knelt before him
and took the boy’s face in His hands.
His touch felt like light.
“You do not have to be strong for Me,” Jesus said.
“You just have to be Mine.”
And suddenly the walls were gone.
They were standing in a wide, open field,
golden with morning.
The sky breathed mercy.
The wind hummed with life.
“This is My kingdom,” Jesus said.
“Not fear.
Not striving.
Belonging.”
“Run,” Jesus said.
The boy hesitated.
“Am I allowed?”
Jesus laughed —
a sound like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“I made your legs”
So the boy ran.
He didn’t brace for correction.
He didn’t look back.
He didn’t try to earn anything.
He just ran, and Christ ran with him.
held by a Love that had been surrounding him all along.
And as the wind filled his lungs and the warmth of Jesus’ Spirit filled his chest,
he finally understood:
He had never been alone.
He had never been unprotected.
He had never been unloved.
He had only been meeting a shadow.
Now he had met Jesus.
