I didn’t find God in a church.
I found Him in the way you looked at me
after I’d lied...Again.
In the way you didn’t flinch
when I was angry and trying to run.

I’ve been proud.
Ugly.
Dishonest with you and with myself.
I’ve torn up trust and handed it back in pieces.
You held them. Quietly.
Then handed them back with mercy I didn’t deserve.

You never let me off the hook.
You called it out, every time.
Held me to the fire,
but never left me in it alone.

And somehow, through you,
I learned what forgiveness really looks like,
not forgetting,
but choosing to stay.
Choosing love when it's not fair.
Choosing mercy when it's not earned.

God didn’t show up in lightning.
He showed up in your patience.
In your quiet strength.
In the thousand small ways
you chose grace
when judgment would've been easier.

You showed me God.
And He didn’t shout.
He whispered through you.
And for once, I listened.