You Are Not A Mistake To Fix

The house is quiet now, and in the silence, the old question returns: did God make a mistake when He made you? It feels like a manufacturing error, a flaw in the design that no amount of prayer can fix.

But listen closely to the stillness. The light that spoke the world into being does not make mistakes.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He did not scan the horizon for defects.

He did not calculate the cost of the restoration. He ran.

Before the apology, before the speech—he ran. That running is not a reaction to your improvement.

It is the evidence of His intent. You are not a project to be corrected.

You are a child to be held. The darkness tries to convince you that you are broken beyond repair, but the light knows exactly what it created.

You were not an accident that slipped through the cracks. You were spoken by name, on purpose, with precision.

The very breath in your lungs is proof that the Creator meant for you to be here, exactly as you are. Go to sleep knowing you are not a mistake waiting to be fixed, but a masterpiece waiting to be seen.