The Light Does Not Recoil From Brokenness

The sun is setting, and the armor you wore all day finally feels too heavy to carry. You are terrified that if you ask for help, the truth will spill out: that you are too broken to be loved.

But listen. There was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, untouchable, convinced her condition made her unworthy of presence.

She did not speak; she only reached for the edge of a cloak. And when the light stopped, it did not recoil from her brokenness.

It called her 'Daughter.' The fear says your need will drive love away. The truth says your need is the very thing that draws the light closer.

You are not too damaged to be held. You are the one being held right now.