You Are Not Being Tried

The afternoon sun is bright, but your mind is replaying a silent trial where you are both the accused and the judge. You are convinced that across the distance, someone is dissecting your mistakes, holding your failures up to the light, and finding you wanting.

You carry the weight of their imagined verdict like a stone in your chest. But the light does not keep score the way you do.

There was a woman once who washed feet with her tears, convinced she was defined by what she had done wrong. The light looked at her and said: her many sins have been forgiven — as her great love has shown.

The love was the evidence, not the perfection. Your fear says they are judging you.

The truth says the light is greater than your heart, and it knows everything — every hidden motive, every regret, every secret shame — and it does not condemn you. The silence you fear is not full of judgment.

It is full of mercy. You are not being tried.

You are being held.