The Light Does Not Run From You

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels heavy with everything you didn't say today. You wanted to be near them, to feel the warmth of their presence, but the moment you got close, a wall of shame rose up inside you.

So you pulled away. You retreated into the dark, convincing yourself that you are protecting them from the weight of your own brokenness.

But listen — the light does not run from the ones it loves. There was a woman who bled for twelve years, untouchable and afraid, yet she pushed through the crowd just to graze the edge of a cloak.

She thought she was contaminating him. He stopped and called her 'Daughter.' He did not recoil.

He did not demand you be clean before you could come near. The isolation you feel is not a shield; it is a lie whispered by the darkness to keep you from the very healing you crave.

You can withdraw tonight. You can sit in this quiet.

But know that your distance does not diminish your worth. The light is already sitting beside you in the silence, waiting for the moment you realize you don't have to hide.