You Still Call My Name

I’ve been called by the weight of my past, by the wreckage of things that were never meant to last. Called by the shame, called by the blame, called by the ashes that whispered my name. I’ve been called broken, called too far gone, called the sum of everything I did wrong. Called by regret, called by fear, called by the sorrow of wasted years. But underneath the dust and scars, beneath the ruins of a fractured heart, there was a voice no sin could erase: “Child, I still know your name.” You still call my name, Through the ashes, through the pain. When sin tried to claim me, Your mercy did the same. The fall may have marked me, But it did not make me. I walked through the valley, But You did not forsake me. You still call my name. I’ve worn guilt like a second skin, let old wounds tell me who I’ve been. Looked in the mirror and seen the cost of every road where my soul got lost. But I am not only what I survived. I am not just the parts that died. I am not the failure. I am not the grave. I am not the shame Your blood came to save. I am the child You formed in secret. I am the son You would not lose. I am the soul You kept on breathing when the darkness said I was through. Call back the parts of me I buried just to live. Restore the tenderness I thought I had to give. Redeem the stolen morning. Awaken holy light. Teach my heart to trust again After years inside the night. You do not waste the wounded places. You do not fear the scars. You are the God of resurrection, The Keeper of my heart. So when the dark starts naming me by every sin and sorrow, I’ll answer with the mercy that carried me to tomorrow. I am Yours. I am held. I am seen. I am still becoming. I am not erased. I am not the same. But through the ruin and the years, You still call my name. Still Your child. Still Your own. Still being gathered. Still coming home. Wounded, but still going. Changed, but not claimed. After all that sin has broken, You still call my name.