The Voice That Calls Your Name

The house is quiet now, but your mind is loud with the replay. You are staring at the ceiling, dissecting every syllable you spoke three hours ago, convinced you have already ruined everything.

The gathering dark loves to turn a single moment into a lifetime of regret. It whispers that the damage is done, that the story is over before morning comes.

But there is a voice that speaks louder than your shame. The light entered into the midst of your prison, the prison of the body and the mind, and said: 'He who hears, let him get up from the deep sleep.' You are not defined by the words you cannot take back.

You are defined by the One who calls your name in the dark. The night is real, but it is not the end of your story.