I Didn’t Try to Be This — Christ Made Me Remember

By Mikey Galván


I didn’t try to be this.
Didn’t dig through bloodlines to build a throne out of DNA.
Didn’t stitch a kippuh on my crown to cosplay a covenant I don’t carry.
Nah.

I just walked.
One step.
Then another.
Toward the voice that called me out the grave
and said, "Son, follow Me."

And as I followed…
pieces started waking up.
My beard grew in with whispers.
My dreams lit up with ancient fire.
My heart started pulsing to rhythms
that ain’t taught in seminaries,
but are sung by the stars and written in stone.

I didn’t choose this.
It was chosen in me
sealed before time,
buried under centuries of silence,
and unlocked
by the name above every name.

Christ didn’t just save me.
He showed me.
That the lion in my blood has been roaring for generations
and the garments of the priesthood don’t always look like robes—
sometimes, they look like hoodies and scars and unshakable eyes.

I didn’t research my way into this rhythm.
I remembered my way in.
Through worship.
Through obedience.
Through tears that turned into scrolls.

And the wildest part?
I’m still just scratching the surface.

So if you see me rocking the kippuh at Mass,
don’t mistake it for rebellion.
It’s remembrance.
It’s respect.
It’s me carrying the past and the promise
into a place where both can finally meet again
at the feet of Christ.

Because I didn’t try to be this—
God made me remember.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

THIRTY-TWO

MAGNETIC SINGULARITY

The Weight of Knowing