There comes a moment along the spiritual path when a profound inner revolution takes place—a Copernican shift of the soul. Suddenly, the eyes of the heart are opened, and I see with startling clarity: God is at the center, and I am but a small, seemingly insignificant speck within His vast creation. My only true worth is the value He bestows upon me, a gift freely given by grace.
My place, it seems, is to pour myself out continually, giving of my very being to those around me, even when it feels like loss. My significance is not measured by what I accomplish or produce, but by the truth of who I am at the deepest level—my core, shaped and known by God.
This awakening did not come all at once. It has been a gradual, sometimes painful surrender—a slow dying to self that began the moment I first turned toward God, accelerating through years of intense service and reaching a culmination one evening after a few years of darkness and barren desert. It continues to ebb and flow, a tide that never fully recedes.
At times, I am granted the unmerited grace to glimpse life, myself, and others through this beautiful and unsettling lens. Before this vision, everything revolved around me: my happiness, my calling, my desires, my purpose. Now, these things become almost incidental, joyful echoes of a deeper reality.
Without this new way of seeing, true holiness remains elusive. With it, I find myself in a continual struggle—a battle with the self that longs to remain at the center. There is a part of me that resists, that clings to comfort and control, preferring the illusion of stability to the vulnerability where suffering, loneliness, and pain are transformed into channels of joy and peace.
The journey into this awareness is not gentle. It is a seismic shift, a trembling of all that once felt solid beneath my feet. I discover that I am not anchored to the ground, but in orbit—wholly dependent on the Center, on God, for my purpose, my direction, my very existence. In this sacred dependence, I learn, slowly and imperfectly, to rest.