The Light Knows Your Worst Secret

The mask is heavy this morning. You are performing okayness so well that you are terrified a single careless word will crack it open and let them see the shame you are hiding.

You brace for the slip. You rehearse the safe answers.

But the light does not wait for your performance to be perfect before it loves you. There was a woman caught in the very act, dragged into the center of the crowd, her shame exposed to everyone who wanted to throw a stone.

The light bent down, wrote in the dust, and waited for the accusers to leave. When only she remained, he did not expose her further.

He said: 'Neither do I condemn you.' The one person who had the right to judge chose mercy instead. Your slip of the tongue will not surprise the light.

It already knows the worst thing you have ever done, and it still calls you friend. The mask is for the world.

The face beneath it is for God.