Your Rage Proves You Believed

This is the hour when the anger finally speaks its name. You are furious at the silence.

Furious that the love you trusted felt like a trap when the pain came. And now, a second weight has settled on your chest: the shame of being angry at God.

You feel you have betrayed the very light that was supposed to hold you. But listen closely.

The light is not offended by your rage. It is not fragile.

It does not require your polite performance to remain present. In the deepest dark, honesty is the only prayer that reaches the ceiling.

Your anger is not a rejection of the light; it is proof that you expected the light to be real. You would not be this hurt if you did not believe, somewhere in the marrow, that you were loved.

The fire in your gut is not the absence of God. It is the friction of a love that refuses to let you go, even when you are screaming at it to leave.