Called by Your Real Name

The afternoon hums with the noise of other people's expectations, and you are wearing a name that feels two sizes too small. Then someone calls out your real name—the one you tried to forget before you walked in the door—and for a second, the mask slips.

Panic rises because you thought you had to be someone else to be safe here. But the light does not need your performance; it only needs your presence.

Split a piece of wood, and the light is there; lift up the stone you are hiding behind, and the light is there too. You do not have to hold the pose any longer.

The one who knows your true name is not calling you to account; He is calling you to come down from the tree and sit at the table. The panic is just the sound of the real you waking up.