The Father Runs Through Your Silence

The morning light hits the window, and you wonder if your silence has finally become a wall too thick for God to climb. You fear that while you were hiding behind the mask of being okay, the Father grew tired of waiting and walked away.

But look at the father in the old story—he was not pacing the floor in anger; he was scanning the horizon with a heart full of longing. He did not wait for the speech, the apology, or the cleaned-up version of his son.

He ran. Your silence is not rejection; it is simply the distance he is already crossing.

The light does not keep a clock on how long you have been gone. It only knows the direction of home.

You are not too late; you are just now being seen.