The Light Runs Toward You

The sun is up, and with it comes the quiet terror that today someone might finally see the cracks in your mask. You have spent the night rehearsing the performance, afraid that if they truly know you, they will walk away.

But look at the light filling the room. It does not wait for you to be perfect before it touches your face.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off — dirty, ashamed, rehearsing a speech about unworthiness. He did not wait for the apology.

He ran. Before the mask could even be removed, he threw his arms around him.

The light does not reject what it sees; it runs toward what it loves. You are not loved because you are hidden.

You are loved because you are known. The dawn is not asking you to perform.

It is asking you to step outside and let the world see what the Father already sees.