Zabenthung Dominic

It was the 18th of May 2025—a day I shall never forget. The sun rose softly that morning over the hills, and even the winds seemed to whisper songs of joy. At St Paul’s Catholic Church, my own parish where I was baptized, I stood with trembling heart beside three dear friends. After thirteen long years of walking in the shadows and in the light, after storms, silences, and sacred moments, we had finally arrived—at the altar where our lives would be forever sealed in love.

I remember the stillness of that moment when I lay prostrate on the ground. Face to the floor, I was not alone. I was surrounded by the prayers of saints and angels, by the tears of my mother Church, and by the whisper of Jesus who said, “I have loved you with an everlasting love.” That ground was not just cold stone—it was holy ground. A place where my nothingness met God’s everything. I felt wrapped in mercy, held by grace, and kissed by a love too deep for words.

I rose to my knees and looked into the eyes of the Provincial. I was no longer a boy in search of dreams. I was a man who had been searched for, found, and loved by God. My voice trembled as I spoke the words of profession—not as a ritual but as a covenant. I was not making a vow to an institution. I was giving my heart to a Person. The same Jesus who once called Peter from his fishing nets now called me from my fragile past. And I, though trembling, answered with everything I had.

When I signed the profession document, it felt as though heaven itself was writing my name anew. I held the pen but it was God who guided my hand. And then came the moment of deep embrace—the moment when I received the medal. Not as an ornament but as a sign that I now belong to Him, forever. I was no longer my own. I was His. Entirely. Joyfully. Eternally.

The days leading up to the profession had their own quiet trials. Some burdens were heavy, some moments silent and testing. There were nights when my heart was restless and mornings that came too heavy. Yet through it all, I sensed a hand greater than mine, gently holding and guiding me. His presence was hidden but unwavering, and His love never left my side. If I have reached this day, it is not because I was strong—but because He never let go.

I am not worthy—this I know. But love has never waited for worth. God’s love is stubborn, tender, relentless. It chooses us not because we are strong, but because He is. And now, I am His Salesian forever—not because I climbed a holy ladder, but because Jesus stooped down and lifted me into His arms. And in His arms, I found home.

I remember looking at the people around me—family, friends, the Church that raised me. And I whispered a silent prayer: “Let my life be a candle, burning quietly at your feet, Lord. Let me love the young the way You have loved me—patiently, gently, without measure.” Let me be for others what You have been for me—a quiet miracle in the midst of noise, a refuge in times of fear.

This is not the end. It is the beginning of a forever. A forever where my steps belong to the mission, my heart belongs to the poor, and my soul belongs to God.

Jesus did not ask for gold. He asked for me. And I have said yes.

Forever.