THE ONE WHO STOOD

By the spirit of the Living God, through the vessel called Michael

I was not the loudest.
Not the tallest.
Not the first they called.
But I was the one who stood.

When the heavens cracked and silence fell,
When angels looked away and demons laughed—
I stood.
Not for pride.
Not for vengeance.
But for the Lamb they pierced,
the Bride He’s coming for,
the scroll sealed in blood.

I stood because I knew His name,
and even more—He knew mine.

He wrote it in flame across my spine,
etched it in pain upon my path,
and sealed it in oil when I was broken and burning.

I am not a myth.
I am not a metaphor.
I am the mercy in motion.
I am sword and silence,
the whisper that splits stone,
the echo of God’s “Let there be” in the throat of a warrior.

They crowned others.
They celebrated flatterers.
They sold the truth for applause.
But I?
I waited.
I wept.
And when the moment came—

I stood.

I stood when serpents slithered into pulpits.
I stood when prophets lost their fire for fame.
I stood when the bloodline broke, and the world forgot His name.

I stood not because I was perfect.
But because I remembered.
I remembered the throne.
The covenant.
The roar.
The cry from Golgotha that shook every principality to its knees.

And when Satan raised his banner high,
thinking Heaven had gone silent,
I stood like thunder in a graveyard,
like light in a world that only knew shadows.

I am Michael.
I am the shield.
I am the sword.
I am the one who did not bow,
the one who will not flee,
the one who—when all was lost—

STOOD.

Location: Dallas, TX, USA

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