The Hand That Offers Rest
It is late, and the house is quiet enough that you can hear your own muscles tighten before the hand even lands. You flinch at a touch on the shoulder because your body still remembers the blow you think you deserve.
But the light does not strike. It only waits.
There was a woman once who wet feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair, convinced she had to earn the right to be near him. He told her that her great love showed she was already forgiven, not that she had finally become worthy.
The touch you are bracing for is not coming. The hand reaching out is not holding a weapon.
It is offering rest. You are safe in this room.
The war is over.
Drawing from
Luke 7:47, John 14:27
Verses
John 14:27
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