You Are Found Before You Stand

The mask feels heavy this morning, doesn't it? You walk into the room wearing a face that smiles, that nods, that says 'I'm fine,' while inside you are terrified someone will peel it back and find nothing there.

You brace for the moment they realize you are empty. But the light does not need your performance to see you.

It sees the tremble behind the eyes. It knows the exhaustion of holding up the act.

There was a man who stood at a distance, beating his chest, unable to even look up, and he whispered the only honest thing he had left: 'God, have mercy on me.' That seven-word prayer from the floor traveled farther than any polished speech from the pedestal. The light did not wait for him to clean himself up.

It called him justified before he even stood straight. You do not have to be full to be held.

The terror of being found out is a lie—the truth is that you have already been found, exactly as you are, and you are still loved.