While on your knees in prayer,
miracles happen

— not by luck, not by stars,
but because Christ is the Source.

He who spoke worlds into being
now bends near when you bow low.
Every healing, every door flung open,
every chain that suddenly falls
flows straight from the hands
still marked by nails.

The weight you carry loosens
because the One who carried the cross
now carries you.

What seemed impossible
bows its knee at His name
and stays.

Eyes closed, you see the scars
that bought every miracle.

In the hush between heartbeats,
Christ Himself is listening—
and He answers.

Keep kneeling.
This ground is holy.
Miracles are listening,
and their Source
is always Christ.