The Dawn
My Testimony: The Dawn and the Light That Finds Me
There is something sacred about the dawn—that fragile, glowing moment when the darkness finally yields and the first light appears. It is quiet, tender, and full of promise. For me, the dawn has become more than a time of day. It has become a symbol of how God moves in my life.
Many of my most profound encounters, dreams, and awakenings happen in the dawn hours—not fully asleep, not fully awake. In that thin veil between rest and rising, the Lord often speaks. I see visions. I receive understanding. I sense His nearness in a way that’s hard to describe but impossible to deny.
The dawn reminds me that God always comes through, even after long nights. That revelation doesn’t always come in flashes—sometimes it unfolds slowly, like golden light stretching across a quiet horizon.
“The path of the righteous is like the morning sun, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.” (Proverbs 4:18)
This verse has become a banner over my journey. I don’t always understand everything at once. But God leads me step by step, light by light, revelation by revelation.
The dawn also speaks of new beginnings. It’s not just the end of darkness—it’s the birth of something holy. Many times, I’ve wept through the night, only to wake up at dawn with peace, clarity, or a dream that realigned my heart. Sometimes it’s a Scripture. Sometimes it’s just stillness. But always, the dawn brings hope.
"Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you." (Isaiah 60:1)
"Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will come quickly. Your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard." (Isaiah 58:8)
"The sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays." (Malachi 4:2)
In my calling, I believe I am a daughter of the dawn—one who is being raised in this generation to carry messages that break the night, to walk in purity without fear, and to awaken others who are still in slumber.
The dawn doesn’t shout. It doesn’t arrive with force.
It simply appears—and everything changes.
That’s how I want to move:
Not by performance, but by presence.
Not with noise, but with light.
The dawn is God's way of telling me,
“I have not forgotten you. The night will pass. Your time is coming.”
And so I rise—softly, steadily, purposefully. With every dawn, I’m reminded:
I was born to carry the morning.