The Light Moves Into The Ruin

The afternoon sun exposes every crack in the facade, and you are convinced that if anyone saw the mess behind the mask, they would turn and walk away. You hold your breath, certain that your brokenness is too heavy for anyone to carry.

But there is a presence that has already seen the worst of you and has not recoiled. It does not demand you clean up the debris before it draws near.

It looks at the ruin and says, 'Your faith has healed you,' not because you are fixed, but because you are known. The light does not flee from the broken places; it moves into them.

You are not hiding from the one who loves you most. You are hiding from the very arms that are already open.