The Firestarter

Rooms change when you walk in. Faith, around you, stops being a position and starts being a pulse — something with speed and temperature. You say the thing, you make the ask, you go first. And suddenly everyone else realizes they'd only been waiting for permission.

You've been called too much. Too loud, too fast, too soon. But the church was born because one man stood up in front of a hostile crowd and refused to be reasonable — and three thousand people went home soaked. Some fires are from heaven. Yours is one of them; it just needs tending.