Stretch Out Your Broken Hand

The house is quiet, but your mind is loud with the accusation that you are fooling everyone. That your stillness is just laziness wearing a mask.

That any moment now, the world will see you are empty. In this darkest hour, the panic feels like the only truth you have.

But listen. There was a man with a withered hand who stood in the synagogue, hiding his brokenness, terrified to be seen.

The light told him simply: stretch it out. He did not have to fix it first.

He did not have to prove he was worthy. He just had to offer what was broken.

Your competence was never the point. The light sees the hand you are trying to hide, and it does not ask you to pretend it is whole.

It asks you to stretch it out exactly as it is. The panic says you are faking.

The truth says you are held.