Prose Poems

THE BROKEN ROAD THAT BREATHES There is a road that never cracks— smooth with certainty, paved with answers that never bleed. No one stumbles there. No one weeps. No one is changed. It goes nowhere perfectly. — But there is another road. It breaks under your feet, shifts with every step, dust rising like prayer from the places you fell. This road remembers your trembling. It keeps the imprint of your trying. Here— you will stumble. Here— you will misjudge the distance, reach too far, or not far enough. Here— you will love and not be returned. — And still— this road breathes. From its fractures something rises— not certainty, but life. Not perfection, but pulse. The cracks are not endings. They are openings. Where your strength failed, roots begin. Where your voice broke, something deeper speaks. — Do not fear this road. It is alive because you were willing to walk it. Better the path that wounds and awakens than the road that never asks your heart. — For the broken road is the only one ...

LIVING TRUTH, WOUNDED LOVE There is a silence that calls itself wisdom— a still, polished thing untouched by risk, untouched by tears. It speaks in finished sentences, walks on unbroken ground, and never falls— because it never moves. But beneath its certainty there is no pulse, no trembling, no life. Only truth— already buried. — Then there is love. Uncertain, unarmed, stepping forward without guarantee. It reaches— and sometimes misses. It speaks— and sometimes fails. It gives— and is not returned. Love breaks. Love bleeds. Love is misunderstood. Yet even its wounds are breathing. Even its failures are seeds. — Who, then, is the hero? Not the one crowned by victory, nor the voice that conquers the room. Not the mind that wins the argument while the heart remains untouched. No— The hero is the one who dares to love without armor, without certainty, without escape. The one who falls forward into truth still becoming. — For everything touched by love refuses to stay dead. Even loss begi...

> NO PLACE, YET THE WAY “Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” In a world overflowing with noise, tribes, and certainty, this word cuts through everything: Follow me. Jesus Christ does not promise belonging as the world defines it. He does not secure identity through groups, ideologies, or comfort. He calls us into something deeper: truth over approval love over fear surrender over control The world fragments. The Gospel gathers. Not by making everyone the same— but by calling each person into a life where love becomes the center. To follow him today is to step out of the echo chamber and into the reality of the neighbor. The question is not where you belong— but whether you will follow. Pastor Steven G. Lee St. GMC Corps May 4, 2026  

  > MAKE ROOM No roof— yet the sky was open. No bed— yet the ground remembered him. No place— yet everywhere he stood became a crossing. He passed through voices, through sides, through walls made of certainty— and stopped where no one wanted to stop. There. Where the wounded lay. Where the silence thickened. Where the world had already moved on. “Follow me,” he said— not into comfort, but into truth. Not into safety, but into love. And the question remained after he was gone: If he stood here now— would there be room? Pastor Steven G. Lee St. GMC Corps May 4, 2026

THE PLACE THAT MOVES He had no place to lay his head— so the place began to move. Not in walls, not in names, not in circles of agreement— but wherever love refused to pass by. The world builds rooms of certainty and calls them home. But the Son walks past them— because truth cannot be contained and love cannot be owned. Follow, he says— and the ground will shift beneath you. Not into chaos— but into the only place that remains: where the other is no longer avoided, and the distance is no longer allowed. Pastor Steve G. Lee St. GMC Corps May 4, 2026  

 > GRACE IS NOT CHEAP Grace is given freely— but it is never cheap. It does not come from us, so we cannot price it, control it, or reduce it to comfort. Grace comes from the Cross. And the Cross is not a symbol of ease— it is the place where truth refused compromise, where love endured rejection, where mercy bore the full weight of sin without turning away. So when grace meets a life, it does not leave it unchanged. Cheap grace asks nothing, requires nothing, transforms nothing. It comforts without confronting, forgives without restoring, speaks peace without truth. But true grace— the grace of Jesus Christ— does something deeper. It calls you out of illusion and into reality. It exposes what is broken not to condemn, but to heal. It leads you through repentance, through surrender, through a reordering of the heart. Grace does not excuse the old life— it crucifies it so that a new life can begin. This is why grace feels costly to us— not because it demands payment, but because ...