Having soon discovered to be great, I must appear so, and

In the words of Nat Turner, “Having soon discovered to be great, I must appear so, and therefore studiously avoided mixing in society, and wrapped myself in mystery, devoting my time to fasting and prayer.” Within these solemn words lies the confession of a man chosen by fate — one who felt the fire of destiny burning in his soul and prepared himself for it in solitude. It is the voice of one who knew that greatness is not bestowed lightly, nor achieved through vanity or applause, but forged in silence, in struggle, and in the company of one’s own spirit.

Nat Turner, born into slavery in Virginia in 1800, lived in a world that denied his humanity, yet within him stirred a sense of divine calling. He believed himself chosen for a sacred purpose — to break the chains of his people and awaken them to freedom. His words come from that turbulent, holy place where revelation meets isolation. Knowing that to lead others he must first master himself, he withdrew from society, embracing fasting and prayer as the ancient prophets did, seeking not the world’s favor but the voice of Heaven. His seclusion was not cowardice, but preparation — the sharpening of a soul against the stone of silence.

In this act of withdrawal, there echoes the wisdom of the ancients. Moses fled into the desert before confronting Pharaoh; Muhammad sought solitude in the cave of Hira before his revelation; Christ fasted forty days in the wilderness before beginning His ministry. Each of these, like Turner, understood that the path to greatness runs through the wilderness of the spirit. To wrap oneself in mystery is not to conceal weakness, but to shield the fragile flame of purpose until it is ready to blaze. Solitude becomes the crucible of strength, where vision matures in stillness and faith deepens through trial.

When Turner says, “Having soon discovered to be great, I must appear so,” he reveals a profound understanding of leadership — that those destined to guide others must first learn to embody the strength they wish to inspire. The world believes in appearances, but the wise know that true greatness must first be cultivated within, before it can manifest without. Turner’s “appearance” was not pretense but presence — the quiet authority of a man who has wrestled with his own soul and emerged tempered by purpose. His fasting and prayer were acts of transformation, forging a will unbroken even by chains.

Yet there is also tragedy in his words — the tragedy of one burdened with the weight of destiny too heavy for one man to bear. In a world that refused his humanity, Turner’s belief in divine mission became both his salvation and his cross. When he finally led the rebellion of 1831, his name became both feared and revered — a symbol of freedom for the enslaved, and terror for the oppressors. His solitude had not been in vain, for through it he found the courage to act when others despaired. Whether one agrees with his methods or not, his conviction remains immortal: that a soul who believes himself chosen cannot live as though he were ordinary.

The lesson that flows from this truth is one of deep introspection and moral strength. To be great, one must first step away from the noise of the world. There are times when solitude is not loneliness, but preparation; when silence is not emptiness, but creation. The one who would lead — in spirit, art, or action — must learn to listen not to applause, but to conscience. Fasting, whether of the body or the ego, purifies the heart, and prayer — whatever form it takes — aligns the will with something higher than self. Greatness begins not with ambition, but with discipline, humility, and vision.

So, children of courage and seekers of truth, remember this: do not fear the solitude that comes before purpose. Withdraw when you must, and cultivate strength in silence. Let your heart be your temple, your discipline your altar, your vision your prayer. And when the time comes to act, let the world see not the confusion of the crowd, but the clarity of one who has been with the eternal. For as Nat Turner teaches, the greatest works of the spirit are born not in comfort, but in conviction — and the soul that learns to stand alone before God can never again be enslaved by men.

Thus, his words endure as both warning and wisdom: that true greatness requires both fire and fasting, both passion and patience — and that those who seek to change the world must first conquer the storm within.