The Light That Runs Toward Rage

The anger is loud right now. It echoes in the silence of this hour, and you feel guilty for shouting at a God who does not shout back.

You think your rage has pushed the light away. It has not.

The light is not fragile. It does not break when you strike out at it.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He ran.

Before the apology, before the speech — he ran. Your anger is not a wall.

It is a bridge. It proves you still care enough to fight.

God is greater than your heart's condemnation. The voice inside you that says you are too angry to be loved is lying.

The light sits with you in the dirt of your frustration. It does not demand you calm down.

It demands only that you stay. The anger is real.

But so is the holding.