the fear that your doubt has permanently severed your connection to the divine

The morning light hits your face and you put on the mask. You smile at the coffee machine, you nod to the neighbor, you type the emails that say you are fine.

But inside, a cold fear whispers that your doubt has cut the line. That you have thought yourself out of the love that holds you.

You feel like an actor on a stage where the director has left the building. But listen — the light does not need your certainty to stay connected.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He did not wait for the speech.

He did not inspect the boy's theology or check his pulse of faith. He ran.

Before the apology, before the promise to do better — he ran. Your doubt is not a pair of scissors.

It cannot sever what God has joined. The connection was never based on how strongly you believed, but on how deeply you are held.

The mask is heavy, but you do not have to wear it for the light to see you. It sees the tremble underneath.

It knows the questions. And it is running toward you even now, through the noise of the office and the silence of your heart.

The line was never cut. You are just holding your breath.