The Hollow Room Is Holy Ground

The day is ending, and the mask you wore for twelve hours finally feels heavy enough to break your neck. You led meetings, gave directions, and smiled with a confidence that felt like a lie because inside, you are hollow.

You are terrified that if anyone saw the empty room behind your eyes, they would walk away. But listen — the light does not need your performance to stay.

There is a peace that does not give like the world gives, a rest that waits for you to stop moving. You do not have to fill yourself up to be held.

The Father makes his home with you not when you are full, but simply because you are there. Put the armor down.

The light sees the hollowness, and it calls it holy ground.