The Light Goes Straight to Your Cracks

The afternoon sun is bright, and it feels like a spotlight on every flaw you are working so hard to hide. You hold your composure like a shield, terrified that if anyone sees a single crack, they will recoil in disgust and leave you alone forever.

But there is a story of a man paralyzed for thirty-eight years, lying beside a pool while everyone else walked by, certain that his brokenness made him untouchable. The light did not walk past him.

It did not wait for him to stand up straight or fix his legs before offering help. It went straight to the worst ruin in the crowd and asked if he wanted to be well.

The light does not recoil from your cracks — it goes directly to them. It is not looking for a perfect facade to admire; it is looking for the place where it can shine through.

The very thing you are hiding is the exact place where you will be found.