A Narrow Window

There is a moment—quiet, unsettling—when the scene fractures and all that remains is a narrow window.

Not a door. A window.

A thin fracture of light breaking through places we’ve learned to survive in. Not enough to flood the room—just enough to reveal what’s been hiding.

Scripture asks a dangerous question:

“Who can discern their own errors? Cleanse me from my hidden faults.”—Psalm 19:12

Hidden faults. Not the ones we confess publicly—the ones we made peace with privately.

So the Spirit says: Look for the breach in the wall. And dig.

We pray for doors to open, but we forget—every room was built with walls. And every wall carries weight, history, and intention.

Walls were not just meant to protect. They were meant to define limits. And some of those limits were never assigned by God.

Windows were placed there for a reason—to see through, to let light in, to expose what cannot survive illumination.

And when light enters, what was hidden does not negotiate—it surfaces.

So I ask you:

What comes up first? Is it a memory? A trauma you normalized? A thought pattern passed down like inheritance? Or the gift you buried because it made others uncomfortable?

What family history laid these stones? What generational fear mixed the mortar? What survival tactic became your theology?

Because digging disturbs what has lived undisturbed.

It shakes places of comfort. Familiarity. Restricted movement.

What you called safety may have been a prison.

And wisdom—true wisdom—is not knowing how many keys exist…but knowing which key belongs to which door.

So let me ask plainly:

What belief has you bound to a demon that doesn’t even know your name? Whose fear are you still carrying? Who taught you to live small and called it humility? What wound keeps bleeding because you keep calling it strength?

Hear this clearly:

The right key does not struggle. Truth does not wrestle. Authority does not beg.

When the correct key is used, resistance collapses. And anything not rooted in truth must obey.

Because light does not argue with darkness. It replaces it.

And sometimes, all it takes is a narrow window.