FTF REFLECTIONS | APRIL 19 “The Shining Light: A Message from Agent Mr. 7”

The Shining Light

The sun was already shining when Mr. 7 reminded me to let mine shine too.

884 days sober—and this man, seven years clean and counting, still finds a way to reach me right when I need it. He usually sends his messages before the sun rises.

But I didn’t read it until I got up around 8 a.m.—woke up, prayed, and found his message waiting on me.

It was a devotional passage. April 19.

The title?

“The Shining Light.”

When I met Mr. 7 in rehab, I was broken but open.

He was consistent—always in small meetings with men, always speaking truth. He wasn’t flashy, but he was focused.

I was curious about him. The way he moved. The way people leaned in when he spoke.

I found out later he had once been a resident at that same rehab.

That meant something.

When it came time to choose a sponsor, he helped guide me toward my second sponsor—my first real one in rehab.

And then he sent this:

“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” — Matthew 5:16

And then this line from the devotional:

“The soul that is built upon prayer cannot be hidden… It speaks for itself, but in utter silence… Its mere presence heals and blesses all around it.”

That’s Mr. 7.

That’s the kind of man I strive to become.

A walking devotional.

Rehab Felt Like School. And I Needed Every Class.

I wasn’t just checking boxes—I was enrolling in subjects I had flunked in life:

Trust. Stillness. Discipline. Forgiveness.

Mr. 7 wasn’t a professor, but he lived the curriculum.

Watching him reminded me that recovery isn’t a speech. It’s a presence.

As I Wrote This…

I woke up and prayed.

Cooked up turkey kielbasa, scrambled eggs with Italian blend cheese, and toast.

Showered. Smoked my hookah. Meditated on what Mr. 7 sent me.

Later, I got a call—no A/C. I’m an HVAC tech, so I headed out.

Kind older couple. We talked gardening and systems.

By the end of the visit, I walked away with a gift—a Thai lemon tree cutting. It’s now sitting in water on my kitchen counter. A new root forming.

Pops blessed me with a small loan. I hit the grocery store.

Picked up bacon-wrapped chicken, sausage, and sparkling water.

Grilled my food.

Watched YouTube videos on relationships, maritime history, and lost vessels.

Listened to Jordan Peterson.

Blasted Moneyman.

Washed clothes. Talked to my cat—who refuses to let me pass without giving him love.

It’s 4:44 PM now. I’m on call. Porch door open.

Birds chirping. Cars passing.

I’m sipping raspberry lemonade, sparkling water, and ginger ale—a bartender’s twist on sober refreshment.

This is what peace looks like.

Not perfect. Just present.

What Mr. 7’s Life Taught Me:

• You don’t need to shout when you carry real power.

• Stillness is a flex when your soul is right.

• You never know who’s watching your walk—and finding courage in it.

• You don’t have to be perfect to guide someone—you just need to be real.

FACETHYFEAR NOTE:

Agent Mr. 7 is real—not just in body, but in assignment.

You’ve probably met one. Or maybe you’re becoming one.

Be a presence in someone’s rehab.

Be a reason someone didn’t give up.

Let your light shine.

Let your silence speak.

Let your presence bless the room before your words ever do.

— Malcolm FTF

FACETHYFEAR.COM | Recovery. Stillness. Presence. Power.