Before the first word, there was only dark.

No sun. No earth. No day to count. Only a Spirit, moving over the deep — waiting.

Then a voice said: let there be light.

And they heard Him walking in the cool of the day.

The first people did not read about God. They walked with Him.

Walk before me. Look up — count the stars.

To one wanderer He promised a family wider than the night sky.

By fire at night, by cloud by day — a people kept walking.

Out of bondage, across the wilderness, toward a word not yet kept.

Then a stranger fell in step, and the road burned.

Two of them were walking. He walked with them, and opened the scriptures — and they knew Him in the breaking of bread.

The road never ended. It only grew wider.

From an upper room to every shore — the walk became a people, and the people became a world.