Your Cracks Are Where the Light Enters
The morning light finds you already armored, polished smooth by years of holding yourself together. You have become so proficient at your own survival that letting someone else try feels like a failure of skill.
But the light does not ask for your competence — it asks for your cracks. There was a man born blind, not because of sin, but so the works of God might be displayed in him.
Your inability to fix yourself is not a defect; it is the canvas. When you finally stop soothing the wound and let another hand touch it, you are not weak.
You are finally visible. The mask was never the point — the healing is.
Drawing from
John, Luke
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