The Light Runs Toward The Broken

The question comes, and your face moves before your heart does. You say you are fine because you are terrified that if you tell the truth, they will see the cracks and walk away.

You wear the smile like armor, heavy and suffocating, convinced that your brokenness is too much for anyone to hold. But listen — the Father who sees what is done in secret sees the mask you wear tonight.

He does not need your performance. He is greater than your heart's verdict that you are too damaged to be loved.

The light does not run from the broken thing. It runs toward it.

You are not a project to be fixed before you are welcomed. You are a child to be held exactly as you are.

The smile is not required here. Only the honest breath.