Ten years from now, I said, I’ll finally know what love is. Ten years from now, I’ll have the house, the car, the polished life like a promise kept. Ten years from now, I’ll be the best version of myself, perfect for God, worthy of the breath in my lungs. Striving for a finish line that moves every time I move. But then—a pause, a whisper, a truth rising like dawn. Why must it take ten years to love the skin I’m in? Why am I building altars to things that cannot save me? Amanda, step off the throne, you were never meant to sit there alone. There is only One who holds the universe, without trembling, without fear. So love now, be grateful now, praise now, trust Him now. For God is not waiting ten years to finally meet you at the door. He is here in the breath you just took. He is here in the quiet courage of choosing today. Stop waiting for the miracle that arrived the moment your heart began to beat. Why am I building altars to things that cannot save me? Amanda, step off the throne, you were never meant to sit there alone. There is only One who holds the universe, without trembling, without fear. He is here. In the now. Not ten years. But now.