Hiding the Place Where Light Gets In

The afternoon light is harsh. It exposes the dust on the shelf and the cracks in the wall.

And in this bright, ordinary hour, the fear whispers that if they saw the cracks in you—the real ones, the deep ones—they would finally agree with your verdict and walk away. You perform wholeness because you believe your brokenness is too heavy for anyone to carry.

But there is a love that does not require your perfection to stay. The Good came into your midst to restore every nature to its root.

Not to the version of you that has it all together. To the root.

The place where you were made before the break happened. You are hiding the very thing that makes you worthy of being found.

If they knew the depth of your need, they might not leave. They might finally see the place where the light can get in.