The Lie That Held You Upright

The sun is up, but your mind is still stuck in that exact second—the moment you saw the lie clearly and felt the terrible collision of gratitude and shame. They built a wall of fiction to keep you from falling, and you needed it to stand.

That tension tears at you now, in the first light. But listen: the light does not demand you hate the crutch that held you upright.

There was a man born blind, and when asked who sinned to cause it, the answer was neither him nor his parents—it was so the works of God might be displayed. Sometimes the brokenness, and even the cover-up, becomes the canvas.

You are not defined by the lie you needed. You are defined by the truth that is walking beside you right now, even while you weep for the deception that saved you.

The night is over; the truth remains, and it is gentle.