Still Carrying the Weight

Rust is usually read as decline.

A sign that something has been left too long in the weather.

But this bridge still stands.

Still carries traffic.

Still does the work it was built to do.

Time left its color.

Strength stayed underneath.

Many of us treat ourselves the way we treat rusted things.

We assume wear means weakness.

That seasons of strain have quietly disqualified us.

That surviving too long in hard places made us less useful.

But Christ does not confuse weathering with worth.

He does not discard what life has touched.

He keeps placing weight on what remains steady.

He keeps inviting movement forward.

There are parts of you that learned to hold more than was fair.

To brace.

To endure.

To keep going long after relief should have come.

Those parts are not embarrassing.

They are evidence of staying alive.

Stopping shrinking does not always look dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like realizing you are still standing.

That you do not have to apologize for being tired.

That you do not have to pretend past storms never happened.

The gospel does not ask you to sand yourself smooth.

It asks you to trust the strength Christ is restoring beneath the surface.

There are crossings ahead that you are afraid to attempt.

Places you hesitate to step because you do not know if you will be supported.

Christ does not wave people onto unstable ground.

He goes underneath.

He holds the span.

If today all you can manage is one careful step, that counts.

If you need to pause mid-crossing, that is not failure.

You are not weak for moving slowly.

You are being carried.

The bridge is still doing what it was made to do.

So are you.