The Light Goes Straight to Broken Things

The sun has gone down, and now the house is quiet enough to hear the fear whispering that if you show your cracks, everyone will leave. You have spent the day holding your breath, afraid that admitting the pain means you will be abandoned by those who finally see your broken parts.

But listen — the light does not run from the broken thing; it goes straight to it. There was a man born blind, and when his friends asked whose fault it was, the light said: no one's.

It was simply the place where the works of God would be displayed. Your brokenness is not a reason for them to flee.

It is the very canvas where the light intends to shine. You are not a project to be fixed and then loved.

You are the place where the light has already decided to dwell. The darkness gathers outside, but it cannot touch the one who knows they are held.