The Light Meets You in Paralysis

The morning light is rising, and it feels like an accusation against the night you just survived. You remember the moment someone had to coax you out of bed, out of your silence, back into being a person who eats and speaks and moves.

You remember the shame of being seen broken enough to need that help. But listen — when Jesus saw the man who could not get up on his own, he did not lecture him about initiative.

He simply said, 'Get up.' And the man did. The light does not demand that you arrive whole.

It meets you in the paralysis and speaks the one word that makes movement possible. You were not a burden to the one who helped you.

You were the very reason they were there. The light is not ashamed of your need.

It is the bridge over it. You are not defined by the moment you fell apart, but by the hands that gathered you back together.