The Light Sees Behind Your Mask

The question lands softly in the breakroom. 'How are you?' And your throat closes like a fist because the truth is too heavy to lift without collapsing.

You feel the mask slip, just for a second, revealing the exhaustion underneath. But listen — the light does not need your performance to see you.

It sees the tremble in your hands and the silence in your chest. Jesus walked through crowds that pressed against him, yet he knew exactly who was hurting without a single word being spoken.

He felt the power go out from him before the woman even finished her thought. You do not have to speak to be known.

You do not have to explain the weight to be held. The light sees behind the smile you painted on this morning.

It knows the cost of your okayness. And it loves what is hiding there more than it loves the mask.