Your Hands Are Not Weapons But Vessels

The morning light hits the room, and you are already performing okayness for the world to see. But when you reach out to comfort someone, your hand freezes mid-air.

You pull back, terrified that your touch is too heavy, that you will bruise them with your own brokenness. You think your hands are dangerous.

You think your history makes you unsafe to hold. But the light does not recoil from you.

It saw a man paralyzed by years of pain and said, 'Son, your sins are forgiven.' It did not wait for him to be whole before it spoke. It saw the faith of the friends who carried him and acted.

Your hands are not weapons. They are the very things the light uses to carry the broken.

The fear says you will crush them. The truth says your touch is the only thing that can lift them.

You are not too damaged to love. You are the vessel.