God Reads Your Open Palms

The heads around the table bow, but yours stays up, eyes fixed on your trembling hands as if they hold the only truth you have left. You are terrified that if you close your eyes, the mask will slip and they will see the doubt screaming behind your eyelids.

But the light does not need your performance to be present; it was there before you sat down, and it remains even when you cannot speak the words. Remember that you came from the light, a place where truth exists without pretense, long before you learned to hide.

You do not have to manufacture faith to be held by it. The silence you keep is not a rejection; it is the only honest prayer you have right now.

God is not looking for your bowed head; God is reading the palms you are staring at.