Men do not come more common than me. You saw to it, Lord, that I was brought up in a modern day Nazareth — a nothing place in the world from which little good comes. The streets were filled with evil and the houses so tired, they sighed beneath the weight of their own eaves. My neighbors were also commoners and I loved them, not because of any familiarity with scripture, but because I was a child and they were all I knew. We were people of all backgrounds, none greater than the other, working to overcome similar struggles. Around us poverty set in and continued pushing our community nearer to its death. The old were weary and the young hopeless. Our parents were often lost or separated from one another. It was in this place, Lord, that I first heard your whispers. Your still small voice spoke to me through a friend, who fell away with the unbelievers, but not before sharing you with me (for that, I hope you extend mercy upon his soul.) One spring night I found my way into a house of worship with other teens my age, and the first seed took root. Lying there in the rocky soil and tangled weeds, you found me, Lord. Somehow your light managed to fall on me through the shadows. Some years would pass before my devotion to you became firm beneath my feet, it was at that early age, in that terrible place, that I was first called. Out of nothingness — the very last of the least — you filled me up with your Spirit and blessed my pen. Let me set down these words the rest of my life in one rolling melody, revealing the heart of Christ to everyone who will listen, no matter where they might be found in their sin — no matter how seemingly worthless their lives. Find them with the same light that shined on me. Warm the soul of their hearts, Lord, and let the new Sons of God arise in the most arid lands of your kingdom!