The Light Sees Your Cracks

The sun is high, and the work demands your face be smooth, your voice be steady. You hold the mask up because you are terrified that if it slips, even for a second, the ruin underneath will be exposed.

But the light does not need your performance to see you. It already sees the cracks.

It saw them before you painted them over. There was a man who stopped in the middle of a crowded road, ignoring the rush of thousands, to heal a man everyone else walked past.

He did not ask the man to clean himself up first. He did not ask him to stop shaking.

He simply touched him. The light is not afraid of your ruin.

It is not shocked by what you are hiding. In fact, the light lives in the very place you are trying to cover.

You do not have to hold the smile up for the Father. You can let your hands drop.

The mask was never the condition for being loved. It was just the weight you thought you had to carry.