You Call Me Beautiful

🎤 “You Call Me Beautiful”

I should have died in it.

The addiction.

The shame.

The silence.

I should have been buried beneath the weight of what I couldn’t shake.

But instead—

You called me out.

Not with anger.

Not with condemnation.

But with fire.

Holy, purifying, chain-breaking fire.

You baptized me in it.

And in the place where I was burning,

I became new.

You saved me from destruction

When I had no plan to save myself.

You reached into the pit I dug with my own hands

And still whispered—“Come forth.”

You didn’t just deliver me.

You dignified me.

And every chain of addiction, every generational curse,

Every lie that wrapped around my voice

Fell.

One.

By.

One.

I thank You, Lord, for the fire.

Not just the flames that refined me—

But the presence that remained with me.

In the valley.

In the silence.

In the pruning.

You never left.

You counted every tear.

You carved Your name in my crushed places.

And called it glory.

You said:

“I prune the branch that bears fruit

So it may bear even more…”

So when I cried out—“Haven’t I already bled enough?”

You said—

“It’s not punishment, daughter. It’s preparation.”

“You’re bearing more. You’re becoming more.”

“You’re mine.”

And now, here I stand.

Consecrated through fasting.

Purified in the secret place.

Marked as chosen—

Carrying the keys to the Kingdom.

Not because I earned them,

But because You handed them to me in the place where I finally laid down my shame.

You said:

“This crushing is not the end—it’s the commissioning.”

“Your legacy begins here.”

“You are the breaker of curses.”

“You are the first root of healing for your children and their children.”

“You are beautiful to Me.”

So I come to the shore, Lord.

Not running from,

But returning to.

Back to the place where I once lost peace—

Now to reclaim it.

To take back what the enemy stole.

To drop every weight into the sea of forgetfulness

And walk out dripping in freedom.

You call me beautiful.

When I looked like ashes—You said “oil.”

When I walked through fire—You said “faith.”

When I almost gave up—You said

“Look again—I’m moving the mountain.”

“Look again—I’ve held every tear.”

“Look again—I never stopped calling you by name.”

So I thank You, Lord.

For the pain that produced purpose.

For the silence that made me seek You.

For the pruning that prepared me for fruit.

For the crushing that released more anointing.

For the fast that reawakened fire.

For the shore that is now sacred ground.

And for the whisper that still melts me—

“You are Mine. You are chosen.

And yes… you are beautiful.”