Resting Where No Performance Is Required

The tile is cold against your knees, and you are counting the seconds until the door handle turns. You know exactly how many minutes of silence you can steal before they start asking where you went.

It feels like hiding is the only way to keep the mask from cracking. But listen — the light does not need you to be strong right now.

It does not need you to come out performing okayness. There is a presence that waits in the quiet with you, not to drag you back into the noise, but to sit on the floor beside you.

You are not hiding from God; you are resting in the one place where no performance is required. The Father is not counting your minutes; he is holding your breath.

The bathroom door is not a barrier to the light; it is the very altar where you are found.