The Hand That Caught You Before Falling

The afternoon stretches out, a long middle where the mind replays a single sentence you spoke with too much confidence. You are convinced that was the moment the mask slipped, the instant everyone realized you were faking it.

But the light does not see a fraud; it sees a child learning to walk, stumbling forward while holding its father's hand. You think your hesitation proved you were unworthy, yet the One who knows everything sees your trembling and calls it honesty.

The verdict your heart screams—that you are an imposter—is not the final truth, because God is greater than your heart. You are not defined by the stumble, but by the hand that caught you before you hit the ground.