I Am: Faith in the Forge

There are moments in life that don’t feel nostalgic — they feel like a return. A full-circle pull back to the version of yourself who knew the truth long before you had the words for it.

I had one of those moments recently. A theme from my childhood — a simple piece of music — hit me harder than it ever did back then. As a child, I’d wake up early every Saturday just to hear it, record it, hold onto it. I didn’t understand why it mattered so much. I just knew it felt like me.

Now I understand.

The imagery of a man forging his own armor, building something that protects not just himself but others — that was the blueprint I carried even as a boy. I felt lost on the outside, but never lost on the inside. Even then, I knew one day I’d figure it out. I knew who I am, even when I didn’t know where I was going.

And hearing that theme again as a grown man — with children depending on me, with a business built on faith more than certainty, with no safety net except the Lord Himself — it hit me:

I’ve kept every promise that boy made. But I haven’t let myself feel the joy that should’ve come with it.

People look at my situation and see instability:

No steady income.

Several children to provide for.

A business built on faith instead of guarantees.

But what they don’t see is the truth: I’m not moving recklessly. I’m moving obediently.

I’m not chasing success for myself. I’m building a testimony for my children — and for anyone watching who needs to see what faith looks like in motion.

Because I didn’t create what’s inside me. I didn’t learn this drive. I didn’t manufacture this clarity.

It was given. And the older I get, the more I understand that the loudest parts of me — the parts that refuse to be trapped, the parts that fight for freedom, the parts that won’t settle for survival — those are the parts God placed there. That’s His image in me. That’s what’s always been at stake.

I’ve seen people close to me trapped by their own choices. I’ve been trapped by mine. But even in my missteps, I fought to stay free. Not rebellious — free. Free to move how I’m led. Free to build what I’m called to build. Free to live in a way that honors the One who gave me breath.

And now, in this season — with everything uncertain on paper but absolutely clear in spirit — I finally understand what’s happening:

I’m not being punished. I’m being prepared.

This isn’t collapse. This is construction.

This is the forge.

And when the work He’s doing through me is finished, I know where home is. I know who I belong to. I know who I return to.

But until then, I move forward —not for applause, not for ego, not for comfort — but for purpose.

For my children.

For the man I promised I’d become.

For the boy who whispered “I am” long before I understood what that meant.

For His glory.

Because when this story is told, I want it to be clear: It wasn’t me. It was Him.

Cade