The Light Is In The Remaining

The plate is full, but your stomach is a knot of stone. To lift the fork feels like lifting a mountain; to chew feels like a war you cannot win.

The light does not demand you finish the meal. It does not scold you for the silence or the shaking hand.

It sees the panic behind your eyes and says: just this one bite. Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.

Not how much you ate. Not how perfectly you performed.

Just the mercy that found you here, in the inability. The kingdom belongs to such as these — the ones who can only sit and receive.

You are not failing because you cannot climb the mountain tonight. You are being fed by the very act of staying at the table.

The light is not in the finishing. It is in the remaining.