You are beloved.
Beloved by the One who knew your name before you spoke His.
The One who loved you when you stood against Him, who called you His own when you had nothing to offer.
How easy it is to dwell on the love withheld,
the rejection that stings, the wounds that linger.
How easy to fix your eyes on what feels empty,
on what is missing, on what has not yet come.
And in that longing, the table before you fades—
the place prepared, the seat reserved,
the name written in love: Beloved.
You see the empty chairs.
You feel the ache of solitude.
But do not forget who set this table.
Do not forget the One whose invitation never wavers.
His gaze has never turned from you.
His presence has never left you.
You are not alone—His banner over you is love.
Let that love be the balm that soothes,
the warmth that fills,
the truth that steadies.
He will be enough again.
He has always been enough.
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