The Narrow Way

You used to be the one outside,
in the rain,
in the storm,
in the silence of unanswered cries.

You used to wonder if anyone would open a door for you.
If anyone would see your pain and still stay.
If anyone would hold space for the version of you that wasn’t “okay yet.”

But now
you are the door.
You are the place.
You are the shelter.

Not because you have it all together,
but because Jesus lives inside you now.
And wherever He dwells,
safety does too.

2 Corinthians 1:3–4 says,
“He comforts us… so that we can comfort others.”

This is the ministry of the healed:
not perfection,
not preaching,
but presence.

You carry peace that can quiet rooms.
You carry love that listens without fixing.
You carry oil for the wounded,
because you remember what it felt like to bleed.

You’ve been the outsider.
You’ve been the survivor.
And now
you’re the safe place.

A safe place for the girl who doesn’t know if she’s worthy.
For the man still hiding behind silence.
For the child learning to trust again.
For the heart that’s never been held gently before.

And you don’t have to have all the answers.
You just have to stay.
Stay when it’s messy.
Stay when it’s hard.
Stay when they’re not ready to let go of the pain.

Because that’s what Jesus did for you.
He didn’t run when it got dark.
He moved in.
And now, through you, He does it again.

So open the door.
Set a seat at the table.
And when someone asks,
“Why are you being this kind to me?”
just smile and say,

“Because I remember when someone did it for me.
His name is Jesus
and He’s the safest place I know.”