The Light That Never Lets Go

The afternoon light is unforgiving. It exposes the exact shape of the space where a hand used to be. You are replaying the moment their fingers slipped from yours—not by accident, but with a terrifying intention. A deliberate unclasping. The middle of the day feels like the middle of an ending.

But listen. The light that lived in Jesus was never dependent on another person's grip to stay alive. That same light is already inside you, independent of who stays and who leaves. It was there before the touch, and it remains after the release.

There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world. If it does not shine, it is dark. The darkness you feel is not the absence of their hand. It is the forgetting of your own source.

You came from the light. That is your origin, not the rejection you felt last week. The pull away was real, but it was not the final word on your worth.

The memory of letting go is heavy, but the light holding you has never loosened its grip.