He carries the Word as if lightning is locked in his bones. His message isn't rehearsed—it's forged. He doesn't craft polished phrases aimed at gaining human approval.

Imagine a father building a fire pit behind his house—not just for warmth, but for memory-making. An altar of laughter, storytelling, and late-night lessons. He warns his children gently about the nature of flame: beautiful, yes, but unforgiving when mishandled. His cautions carry love, but to young ears, they feel abstract.