He is
breath of life,
the stillness in which the voice of God
spoke light into being.
He walked in Eden’s hush,
not as echo or wind,
but as Presence.

He is
the fire that burned without consuming,
the whisper Moses could not name.
He etched commandments into stone,
and in the fullness of time
offered His hands to be pierced by them.

He is
the thunder beneath a virgin’s yes,
eternity swaddled in time.
He took on flesh,
the Creator as the creature,
to redeem all creation.

He is
the child in the temple
speaking riddles to the wise,
tired from the journey
yet holding the weight of the stars
while asleep in a boat.

He is
the wine at the wedding,
the sight of the blind,
the touch for the unclean,
the breath in a dead girl’s lungs.
He is joy,
He is sorrow,
He is the mercy that offends the proud.

He is
the Lamb who walked into death
with love as His weapon.
When the sky wept
and the earth cracked,
He was not overcome.
He was finishing the song
He began before the world began.

He is
the silence of the tomb
that blossomed into resurrection.
Grave clothes folded,
stone rolled back,
time forever changed.
He entered locked rooms,
not to escape,
but to gather the lost.

He is
not memory,
not myth,
not tale woven by longing.
He is the Word made flesh,
still bearing wounds,
but never shame.

He is
the bread for the hungry,
the wine that gladdens hearts,
the Shepherd who searches,
the Door that stands open.
The beginning shaped the end,
and the end reveals the beginning again.

He is
the King once crowned with thorns,
now radiant with light.

He was,
He is,
He will be
the One who calls the stars by name,
who waits for every prodigal,
who knows the soul’s deep ache
and answers it with Himself.

He is
I Am
and forever will be.