From Pit to Platform: How God Turns Captives into Carriers of Truth.

A message to Believers….

“As I head out from the gates of the place that I was captive / In the beginning I was the Padawan but now I am the master” -Michael Walker- (From the song Exodus)

This is more than a poetic line. It is a spiritual biography. A declaration of transformation. A warning to some, a comfort to others. But above all, it is a testimony to the power of deliverance—the kind only God can do.

There was a time when I was in the pit. Not just emotionally. Spiritually. Mentally. Caught in chaos, stuck in patterns, playing the part while privately falling apart. I knew about God—but I hadn’t yet been lifted by Him. I was still the student of struggle. Still the Padawan of pain. But something changed.

Psalm 40:2 (NASB) says:

“He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the mud; And He set my feet on a rock, making my footsteps firm.”

And that’s exactly what He did.

The Breakdown of Deliverance

In the original Hebrew, this verse isn’t just pretty poetry—it’s surgical truth.

He brought me up (ya‘ălênî): To elevate, to pull upward

Out of the pit (mibbor): A dungeon, a trap, a prison

Of destruction (shā’ôn): Roaring ruin, crashing chaos

Out of the mud (mittît hayyāwên): Filth, instability, sin

He set (vayyāqem): Raised, established, confirmed

My feet on a rock (ʿal-selaʿ): A place of support, divine authority, vision

Made my footsteps firm (kônēn raglāy): Secured my walk, aligned my direction

This isn’t just a clean-up—it’s a reconstruction. God doesn’t just rinse off your sin. He pulls you out, stands you up, and sends you forward.

And I get it now.

Back then, I thought holiness was about hiding my humanity. I started deleting posts, cleaning timelines, trying to present myself like I had never fallen. I filtered my faith for the public instead of letting God transform me in private.

But eventually I realized this:

> The one who is truly set apart isn’t the one who hides their flaws— It’s the one who lets God use them.

I used to perform. Now I walk. I used to curate. Now I confess. I used to follow. Now I guide.

Not because I’m better. But because I was there.

And when you’ve been there, you don’t rebuke others from a stage—you warn them from the same gate you once walked through.

That’s the platform. Not a pedestal. Not a spotlight. Just the solid ground beneath my feet where I can finally stand.

So now I speak—not as the captive, but as the free man. Not as the Padawan still in training, but as the master of the lesson I had to learn the hard way.

From pit to platform. That’s what God does.

He turns our lowest moments into launchpads.

He turns our shame into strategy.

He turns our mess into a message.

He turns our past into prophecy.

And if He did it for me, He’ll do it for you.

Just don’t stay in the pit when He’s already provided the hand.

Walk out.

And when you do, speak up.

There’s someone behind you waiting to hear from someone who’s been where they are.

The gates are open.

Walk through them like you were born for it.

Because maybe you were.