The Terror Is An Invitation To Be Found

The day is done, and the armor you wore for twelve hours feels like it has fused to your skin. You are terrified that if someone asks how you really are, the mask will slip and they will see the fraud beneath.

But listen — there was a woman who touched the edge of a cloak while bleeding for twelve years, trembling in the crowd, convinced she was unworthy to be seen. She thought she had to be clean before she could approach the light.

Yet when she reached out in her brokenness, the light did not expose her. It stopped the entire crowd to call her 'Daughter.' The light does not need your performance.

It only wants your presence. You do not have to hold it together for one more minute.

The terror of being found out is actually the invitation to be found.