Light of Faith

Silence draped the earth that night,
The stars held breath in trembling light.
No crown, no throne, no trumpet’s cry—
Just heaven bending, drawing nigh.

A manger held what kings could not,
The Word made flesh in humble spot.
The ox kept watch, the angels wept,
And shepherd hearts in wonder leapt.

O Light of God, so small, so bright,
Born to shatter endless night.
You left the heights, You crossed the cold,
To warm the world with love untold.

Mary’s arms became the sky,
Cradling dawn the dark denied.
Each breath You drew, a promise made—
That grace would bloom where fear decayed.

The heavens sang, the veil grew thin,
Eternal met the dust within.
O child divine, O holy flame,
My heart ignites to praise Your name.

O Light of God, so pure, so near,
Your voice still calms the storm I fear.
From manger straw to cross and crown,
Your mercy lifts what darkness drowns.

So when the bells of winter ring,
I’ll kneel before the newborn King—
And whisper low, where candles glow,
“Thank You, Lord… for heaven bent low.”

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

They call it fun, this night of masks,
Where laughter hides unspoken tasks.
A world of colors, dark and sweet,
Where shadows dance in quiet deceit.

But listen close, my child of Divine,
Not every spark bears Heaven’s sign.
Some lights may glow, yet lead astray,
Not every flame was born of day.

Awaken, little lights—
Don’t fear the dark, just rise.
You were made to pierce the night,
To mirror truth, not disguise.
The world may play with ghostly charms,
But you were carved from holy arms—
So shine, and never bow—
Be light, be love, be now.

The sweetest songs, the masks they wear,
Are thorns disguised as gentle air.
Yet mercy stands, with open hand,
To call the lost to higher land.

Oh, let them mock, let whispers run,
The stars still bow to the Holy One.
You need no costume, no painted guise—
Just the fire of faith within your eyes.

Awaken, little lights—
Let shadows see your flame.
The Lord walks every silent night,
And calls His own by name.
When fear and laughter intertwine,
Remember, child of Divine—
The veil will fade, the dawn will call—
And Christ will rise above it all.

The night is brief, the truth remains,
The light of God still breaks all chains.
So shine, my heart—let Heaven see,
You were born for purity.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

Upon a hill, a shadow stood,
Of love poured out in crimson flood.
A tree of pain, a throne of grace,
Where mercy met us face to face.

The nails were thorns, the wood was scar,
Yet from that place, He raised the stars.
No grave could hold, no stone could stay—
The Cross still speaks of life today.

So lift it high, the holy sign,
Where wrath was crushed by love divine.
And let our hearts, in awe, proclaim:
Salvation bears the Cross—and Name.

From wood to wonder, pain to peace,
His blood declared our soul’s release.
No power greater, no love more wide—
The Lamb still lives, the Crucified.

So lift it high, the holy sign,
Where wrath was crushed by love divine.
And let our hearts, in awe, proclaim:
Salvation bears the Cross—and Name.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

You may have left us, but not in vain.
Your voice still echoes. It won't be changed.
The youth now rise.
The seeds take root.
In Christ the vine, they'll bear the fruit.

Rest in the arms of Jesus.
Now the crown of life upon your brow.
We grieve but rise. We won't give up.
We'll live with courage in His love.

You spoke of truth.
You faced the storm.
You lit a fire. It still burns warm.
Though earth has lost, heaven has gained.
The gospel stands. His word remains
in the arms of Jesus.

Now the crown of life upon your brow.
We grieve but rise. We won't give up.
We'll live with courage in Jesus' name.

So let's carry the cross you bore
with faith unshaken forevermore.
We'll shine His light. We'll lift His name—
together strong. We'll do the same.

Rest in the arms of Jesus now.
The crown of life upon your brow.
We grieve but rise. We won't give up.
We'll live with courage in Jesus' name.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

Seed of the Woman, promise begun,
Shiloh who holds the Ruler’s drum.
Star of Jacob, Branch and Root,
The Prophet like Moses with Heaven’s truth.
Immanuel, born of virgin cry,
Wonderful Counselor from on high.
Mighty God, Everlasting Flame,
Prince of Peace with judgment’s name.
Son given, Child foretold,
Sun of Righteousness, mercy gold.
Man of Sorrows, Servant bruised,
The Branch of life the nations choose.
Rock of Ages, Hiding Place,
Anointed One full of truth and grace.
Refiner’s Fire, Desire of all,
Root of Jesse, gentle call.

Jesus—Yeshua, Heaven’s breath,
Deliverer walking through sin and death.
Christ, Messiah, Son Most High,
Son of David, purest cry.
King of the Jews, humble and low,
Rabbi, Teacher, Seed to sow.
Son of Man, the Living Bread,
Dayspring rising from the dead.
Chief Cornerstone, Emmanuel bright,
Fountain of grace, Eyes of Light.
Physician, Bridegroom, Shepherd near,
The Healer who drew sinners near.
Master, Carpenter, Lamb once led,
Rescuer lifting hearts from dread.
Holy One, Nazarene flame,
The Voice that called each soul by name.

“I AM who I AM,” the bush once burned—
And now You speak, and hearts are turned.
I AM the Bread, the daily grace,
The Light that floods the shadowed place.
I AM the Door—come, enter in,
Where love and mercy swallow sin.
I AM the Shepherd—watchful, true,
The One who gave His life for you.
I AM the Way, the Truth, the Life,
No other road, no lesser light.
I AM the Vine—abide in Me,
And you will bear eternity.
Resurrection, Life, and Flame—
Forever echoing the Great I AM.

Jesus, my Light, my Lord, my King—
Every name You wore, my soul shall sing.
From Root to Lamb, from Door to Star,
You are who You are… who You are.

Lamb of God, our Sacrifice,
Spotless One who paid the price.
Word made flesh, Creator’s breath,
Lord of Glory, conqueror of death.
The Last Adam, risen strong,
Head of the Body where we belong.
Mediator, Priest, Advocate near,
Captain of Salvation who draws us near.
Our Passover, the Ransom paid,
Banner of Love that will not fade.
Author, Finisher, Anchor of soul,
Bishop of hearts who makes us whole.
Wisdom of God, our Living Hope,
Rock of Mercy, stretching the rope.
The Just One, Judge, our Resting Grace,
Image of God—glory’s face.

Alpha, Omega, Flame without end,
Beginning and End, Redeemer, Friend.
Faithful and True, crowned in might,
The Rider clothed in Heaven’s white.
Lion of Judah, Root divine,
Branch of David, Lord of Time.
The Lamb enthroned, our Morning Star,
Word of God with wounds that are.
King of Kings, robe dipped in blood,
Name unknown, yet known in love.
Amen, the First, the Living One,
Sword from mouth, the Father’s Son.
The Door no man can close or claim,
The Flame who walks the coals of shame.
The Light, the Voice, the Crown, the Call—
The One who reigns above them all.

Healer of wounds I dared not show,
Living Water in silent flow.
Friend of the lowly, Lover of soul,
Breaker of chains, the One who makes whole.
My Refuge, Fortress, Anchor, Shield,
The Balm by which my scars are sealed.
Hiding Place in storm and shame,
The Whisper who still calls my name.
My Shepherd when I cannot stand,
My Justice in the judgment land.
Bridegroom near with patient grace,
The Flame that fills the empty space.
Deliverer, Strength, Defender strong,
The Lifter of my trembling song.
The Door, the Path, the Rest, the Light,
My Morning Mercy after night.
True Vine, Foundation, Breath of Peace,
The One whose love will never cease.
My Portion, Crown, Eternal Stay—
The One who’ll never walk away.

Jesus, my Light, my Lord, my King—
Every name You wore, my soul shall sing.
From Root to Lamb, from Door to Star,
You are who You are… who You are.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

Echoes stir the veil—
roaring louder,
louder still—
until they brush the skin of my soul
like wind through unseen wings.

This time,
I did not flee the sound.
I did not lock the gate.
I told my cousin what stirred in my soul,
and she smiled,
“You’re like on cloud nine.”

And maybe I am.
Maybe I’ve tasted something higher
than this world knows how to name.
Not a haze, not a drug,
but a fire laced in glory.

Let them say I’m addicted—
because I am.
Drunk on presence.
Wrecked by wonder.
Drenched in the Spirit of the Living God.

I’m not cloistered. I’m commissioned.
Not hidden—I’m lit like a lamp on a hill.
You may call it madness,
but I call it home.

I’ve walked with Him in waking dreams,
seen joy gleam like gold behind His smile.
And once you’ve touched eternity,
the world’s highs fall hollow.

For there is no greater intoxication
than the presence of Jesus—
no wine, no smoke, no thrill
that compares
to the quiet kiss of His voice
when He says:
“You are Mine.”

So yes—
I’m on cloud nine.
And I won’t apologize for it.
Because there is no thrill like knowing
I am fully known.
No rush like being claimed
by the King.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

O Father—
the One hidden behind the veils,
who called me forth and knew my name
even when I didn’t know Yours.
You kept Yourself a mystery to me.

Your voice—
a thunder, soft and near.
You whispered love I still can hear.
And Your laughter?
It still dances in my heart.

I remember You—
walking beside me,
sitting beside me.
I remember the way Your hand felt…
a spark of light that washed through my veins.

You held me close through sleepless nights,
You walked beside me out of sight.
Before the world could see my face,
You wrapped me in unending grace.

Your words still echo in my mind—
not words spoken through priest or page,
but the ones You spoke to me.

No matter what I say or do,
Your love, Your grace still carries through.
Your patience waits where mine runs dry.
You let me stray and wander long…

Because You knew I needed to see the world,
to know that what I have with You
can never be replaced.

You’ve always known me best.
And You’ve always let me learn by walking.

When I was lost beneath duty’s weight,
consumed by time, distracted fate—
You didn’t wait for me to find
the road back home…

You called me
in time.

Every time I paused beneath the weight of the world,
every time the road split beneath my feet,
every time the ones called friends drifted away—
I didn’t know then,
but I know now—

That was You.
That was always You.

So thank You, Father—
my Lord, my Savior,
my Everlasting Light.

Call me again
whenever I wander.
Be my thunder
when I forget to run into Your arms.

So today, I say to You—
Happy Father’s Day.
To the One so many forget.
To the greatest Father of all—
the One who never forgets us.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

I stood where worry met the weight—
the roof above me trembling with names,
debts I did not ask for,
roles I did not choose.
And she came—offering help not hers to give.
But I could not let her carry
what the flame in me was forged to hold.

Then silence parted like the sea—
and Jesus came.

Not in thunder, not in wrath,
but robed in stillness, crowned in gold.
A circle of glory around His head,
a cross cradled proudly in His hand—
not hung, but held,
like a king raising a sword to the sky,
a King who takes delight in His chosen.

My auntie froze.
But my heart did not.

It raced like drums before a storm,
a sound only heaven could hear.
He stepped into the space between worry and faith,
and He circled me like the Shepherd who had found His lamb,
with the Bridegroom’s smile for His beloved—
wide, radiant, joy bared in teeth.

Not to bind. Not to burden.
But to claim.

I have never seen a statue like that.
Because it was never carved.
It was sent.

A vision not for worship,
but for reminder—
that He is King.
That I am His.
And even in the weight of life’s demands,
I do not stand alone.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

He is risen—hallelujah!
The Easter flame ignites again,
A heaven flame, a holy fire,
That never fades, nor bends, nor dies.

It is no fire of wrath or pit—
No curse, no brimstone’s bitter hiss.
This flame is born of heaven’s breath,
A light that sings of life, not death.

Oh, heaven fire! Celestial blaze!
You do not burn—you rise in praise.
You kiss the skies with golden grace,
And fall like whispers on our face.

In Jerusalem, the veil was torn—
The cross stood still, the Lamb was worn
With crown of thorns and crimson flow—
Yet from that pain, the glory rose.

For Jesus lives! He walks anew—
The stone rolled back, the grave untrue!
And every year, this sacred day
The flames of heaven lead the way.

He walks the path of morning light,
The grave undone, the dark made bright.
In every heart, this holy day,
The flames of heaven show the way.

He rose, He reigns, He conquers still—
And in our hearts, this flame will fill
With joy and song and grateful cries:
The Son has risen! Death has died!

Jesus has risen—Messiah divine,
Hallelujah, rejoice! Let your soul brightly shine!
In His glory we sing, in His light we stand free—
The Easter flame burns in you and in me.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

He rode through gates with heaven’s fire,
Hosannas rose in soaring choir—
The Lamb, the King, the Risen Light—
He marched to claim the final fight.

Oh, glory crowned in sacred flame,
He bore the cross, He rose again!

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

Oh, they speak of my home as lost and gone,
Yet I hush them, bidding their shame be known.
This haven—my breath, my calm—
Enduring through a lifetime.

Their bewildered gazes meet my own; I declare:
“You cannot grasp its essence until you’ve lived it—
And I have truly lived it!”

So gather my soul, guide me back home.
My soul… oh, my soul…
Yearning for that sacred place,
I close my eyes, wandering from mountains to rivers.

My spirit craves its rightful home,
Passion swelling day by day.
Oh, take my soul back to where it belongs.

They urge silence, insisting it’s lost.
I retort, “Hush! My patience wanes.”

Reclaim my soul,
And carry it home.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart

Today was my turn to say farewell,
The Lord has chosen me tonight.
I’m going away from this world.
But please don’t cry.

Just remember our good times together.
How thy love for each other never let us down,
Even in our hardest moments.

I will always be there by your side.
Every step of your life,
Every minute of your best moments and worst.
So please don’t cry.
I will always be there.

— by Helen Najar, Lionheart