I Am Israel

I didn’t ask to be Israel.

But somehow, I’ve always been walking their road.

From bondage to breakthrough.

From silence to song.

From wandering to witness.

You see, Israel wasn’t chosen because they were perfect.

They were chosen because they were persistent.

And if that’s the qualification—then count me in.

THE PATERN

I look back over my life,

and I see the pattern.

Every mountain I climbed came after a valley that broke me.

Every blessing I held came with a bruise that taught me how to grip it.

I didn’t always understand God’s timing,

but I see now—He was writing Scripture in scars.

Israel complained while walking through miracles,

and I’ve done the same.

Cried with manna in my mouth.

Doubted while standing in deliverance.

Still, He never changed His mind about me.

He doesn’t love the cleaned-up version.

He loves the consistent one.

The one still showing up with dusty feet and a willing heart.

THE FIGHT IN THE FLESH

I’ve wrestled with God.

Not like Jacob under the stars,

but in hospital rooms,

in late nights when the money ran out,

in quiet mornings when I wondered if the mic still mattered.

I wrestled… and I walked away limping.

But I walked away blessed.

That limp reminds me I’ve seen God up close.

It’s proof that I’ve been touched and still trusted to move.

Sometimes the blessing isn’t that the pain stops—

it’s that your purpose keeps going through it.

THE GENERATIONS

I used to think legacy was what you left behind.

Now I know—it’s what you keep alive.

It’s not money in a bank; it’s memory in motion.

It’s not the name they write down; it’s the name they call on when they need hope.

I see it now… in the young ones I pour into.

In every kid who laces up his cleats,

every teenager who finds his footing when I speak truth.

They don’t need another perfect man.

They need a present one.

And presence… is what Israel forgot.

So I made a vow—I won’t forget.

THE COVENANT

God’s covenant isn’t a contract.

It’s a calling.

He said, “I’ll be your God, and you’ll be My people.”

That wasn’t a suggestion; it was an identity.

So when I say I am Israel,

I’m not claiming nationality.

I’m confessing endurance.

I am the man who’s been broken but still breathing.

I am the testimony walking out of tombs I built myself.

I am the bridge between what was promised and what’s still coming.

I am the sound of covenant in flesh and voice.

THE RISE

I’ve been the captive.

I’ve been the wanderer.

I’ve been the wall-builder,

and the wall that God tore down.

But I’m still here—

and the fact that I’m still standing

is evidence of a promise that can’t die.

So when I say it now…

I say it with every breath left in my lungs.

I AM ISRAEL!

Born of struggle.

Built for surrender.

Bound by grace.

Beloved by God.

I AM ISRAEL—

and I will not bow to my failures.

I AM ISRAEL—

and I will not forget Who brought me out.

I AM ISRAEL—

and I will keep walking until the wilderness turns into worship.

Father…

for everyone listening,

who feels like their promise expired—

remind them You still write covenants in human hearts.

Remind them the story isn’t over.

Remind them that even in the wilderness… You dwell.

And when they find themselves staring at the walls of Jericho in their own life,

teach them the power of silent obedience—

and the freedom of one faithful shout.

Because when the walls fall,

Your glory rises.

And with that breath…

we all stand.

I AM ISRAEL.

Amen.