The Light Meets You in the Dust

The house is quiet now, but your hand still remembers the shape of the glass that isn't there. You reach for the weight that used to numb the noise, and when your fingers find only air, the panic sets in.

It feels like falling. Like the floor has dropped out from under you because the thing you leaned on is gone.

But listen — the light does not require you to be steady on your own. There was a man in Gethsemane who fell on his face in the dirt, overwhelmed with sorrow, begging for the cup to pass.

He did not stand tall. He did not hold it together.

He collapsed. And the light met him exactly there, in the dust of his breaking.

You do not have to carry the weight of the night by yourself. The phantom weight is just a ghost; the real presence is already holding you up.

Put your hand down. You are safe without it.