Poetic Prelude
Before the candle was lit,
Before the corridors of time unfurled,
He stood—not in shadow, not silence—
But in glory unapproachable.
“Before there was light, before there was time, before the first breath of man—He was there. Not waiting. Not becoming. Being.”
The Infinite Yeshua
He was not born into existence.
The Word was not born.
He breathed the birth of galaxies.
He spoke the spine of mountains.
He whispered the pulse of stars.
Elohim, Infinite, Unmade.
Not waiting in Bethlehem,
But reigning before Eden.
Not shaped by flesh,
But shaping dust into sons.
He is existence
Before the manger, before the prophets, before the dust of Adam—He was.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God”—John 1:1.
Yeshua is not a chapter in History.
He is the Author of History. (He is History).
He is not a flicker.
He is the Flame.
He did not begin in Bethlehem.
He stepped into Bethlehem from eternity.
“He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.”—Colossians 1:17
The stars? He spoke them.
The oceans? He cupped them.
The breath in your lungs? He breathed them.
And yet…
He chose to descend.
To wrap himself in flesh.
To walk to corridors of our brokenness.
“Before Abraham was, I AM”—John 8:58
This is not religion.
This is not revelation.
The infinite became intimate.
The Eternal became touchable.
The Word became flesh.
“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us…”—John 1:14
Why?
So the forgotten could be remembered.
So the lost could be found.
So the candle of your soul could be lit again.
Call to Action
Friend, if you are reading this…
Don’t treat Yeshua like a seasonal story.
He is not a decoration.
He is the Divine.
If he is the beginning.
Then He must be YOUR beginning.
Return to Him.
Not just to the cross—
But to the corridor before time,
Where the Word waited for you.
Sanctuary Invitation
If you’ve wandered far,
If your name feels lost in the corridors of time,
If the candle of your heart has dimmed—
Come.
Come to the sanctuary where the infinite waits.
Not with condemnation, but with compassion.
Not with distance, but with nearness.
This sanctuary is not built of stone.
It is built of remembrance.
Of mercy.
Of the Word who became flesh.
Let your soul be lit again.
Closing Prayer
Yeshua,
You were there before the stars. Before the soil. Before the sorrow. And still, You came. You walked the dust. You touched the leper. You wept with the broken. You lit the candle of hope in the darkest corridor.
I am not worthy to untie Your sandals. But You call me anyway.
So here I am. Not with eloquence. Not with strength. But with a heart that longs to be lit again.
Light me, Lord.
Let me burn with remembrance.
Let me walk with You.
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