The Hand Still Reaching For You

The house is quiet now, but your mind is loud with the replay. You see the moment clearly: the hand reaching out, and your own face turning away before you could stop it.

You wince at the memory of your own rejection. You wonder how the light could still be there after you flinched from the touch.

But listen — the Father has been watching that moment too, and he did not turn away when you did. He saw the fear that made you flinch, and he met it with the same compassion he showed the leper.

He reached out his hand and touched him, saying, 'I am willing.' That willingness has not expired because you hesitated. The light that lives inside you is not offended by your instinct to hide; it is the very thing that stays when you turn your face.

You are not defined by the moment you looked away. You are defined by the hand that is still reaching.