The Light That Outlasts The Broken Door

The house is quiet now, but the hurt is loud enough to keep you awake. You were wounded by the very hands that promised to hold you, and now the door feels locked from the inside.

The light does not care about the building that failed you — it cares only that you are still here, breathing in the dark. There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, covered in the filth of a life gone wrong, and he did not wait for an apology — he ran.

That same love is running toward you right now, not because you are clean, but because you are His. You do not need to find a new place to belong; you need only to remember that the Kingdom is already within you.

The light was there before the church hurt you, and it will be there when the sun rises again.