Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)

by Rebecca Ross

I think we all wear armor. I think those who don’t are fools, risking the pain of being wounded by the sharp edges of the world, over and over again. But if I’ve learned anything from those fools, it’s that to be vulnerable is a strength most of us fear. It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are. Sometimes I feel the same as you: I can’t risk having people behold me as I truly am. But there’s also a small voice in the back of my mind, a voice that tells me, “You will miss so much by being so guarded.” Perhaps it begins with one person. Someone you trust. You remove a piece of armor for them; you let the light stream in, even if it makes you wince. Perhaps that is how you learn to be soft yet strong, even in fear and uncertainty. One person, one piece of steel.

Because you are not alone. Not in your fear or your grief or your hopes or your dreams. You are not alone.

You don’t know what’s coming in the days ahead, but you’re doing just fine. You are so much stronger than you think, than you feel. Don’t be afraid. Keep going. Write the things you need to read. Write what you know to be true.

And yet how I long to be vulnerable and brave when it comes to my own heart.

I grew something living in a season of death.

Even when the world seems to stop, threatening to crumble, and the hour feels dark as the siren rings … it isn’t a crime to feel joy.