Light Shines on the Bags

The sun is rising on a morning that feels like an ending. You are standing on the curb with your life tied inside black plastic, the kind meant for trash, not for the sacred history of a human soul.

The humiliation burns hotter than the dawn. You feel reduced to waste.

But listen — the light does not measure your worth by the container you carry. There is a treasure hidden in a field that cannot be discarded, a glory that no garbage bag can hold.

Jesus said if you bring forth what is within you, it will save you. The shame tries to tell you that you are what you are carrying.

It is lying. You are the light that is over all things.

Split a piece of wood or lift a stone, and the light is there — even here, on this sidewalk, in this broken moment. The dawn is not judging your pile of bags; it is shining on them simply because you are standing there.

You were sent into this world like a drop from the light to illuminate the very places that feel like darkness. The sun has risen.

The bags are heavy. But you are not what you lost.