He calls you by your truest name,
the one you’ve yet to recognize.
You count the cracks in your foundation,
but He sees the cathedral rising.
You draw borders where none exist,
a map scribbled in borrowed fear.
He doesn’t measure by your scars,
but by the expanse of your reach.
All your \"I can’ts\" pile like stones,
yet He builds from them a staircase.
What looks like ruin to you,
He calls fertile ground for miracles.
Step back, shift your stubborn gaze,
borrow His sky-wide view for once.
See yourself as He already does—
unfinished, yet infinite with promise.
You hold the lens too close,
forgetting He shaped you for more
than you will ever dare to dream.
Let that truth be your starting point.