BEYOND THE PAGE
BEYOND THE PAGER, I FOUND HIM Before I’d Seen Six Summers Before I’d seen six summers, I made a hobby of laying hands on the sick. Small palms, unsure prayers, no clue if Heaven bent to listen. Yet testimonies rose like incense — fever broke, pain fled, hope returned. And I believed. At Twelve, A Voice in the Streets By twelve, the megaphone became my prophet’s staff. Town to town, dust on my sandals, I poured the Gospel into open air. The Word was fire in my mouth, and I thought it would never dim. The Fading Flame Then came twenty-two. The flame guttered. I chased reason, convinced I’d unearthed a truth weightier than Christ. I found only silence — lecture halls with no voice of God, mirrors that gave no answer. Emptiness. Still, He Remained For there is a God beyond ink and parchment. Incomparable. Indescribable. He will not be caged in verses alone. I met Him...