The Light Calls You By Name

The sun has gone down, and now the house is quiet enough to hear the rehearsal begin. You are practicing your own disappearance, shrinking your voice, folding your needs into the dark so no one will have to ask you to leave.

You make yourself small, thinking this is how you survive the gathering dark. But there was a man named Zacchaeus who climbed a tree just to see, hiding in the leaves because he knew the crowd would push him away.

He was already making himself invisible before the light even arrived. Yet Jesus stopped.

He looked up into the branches and called him by name. He did not wait for an invitation.

He said: I must stay at your house today. The light does not need you to be smaller to fit in the room.

It comes to the one who thinks they are unwelcome. You are not a burden that must be quietly removed.

You are the guest the light has already chosen.