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Set doesn’t ask us to be the biggest badasses in the world. Many of His children are tired, and wounded, and feel outcast and expended. He demands that we strip ourselves of our bonds — the fetters that restrict us from our potential, and leave us stagnant in dead-life. Our irons often grow into our tender flesh after long imprisonment, and become painful to extract. Sometimes we grow fond of our darkened dungeons, cling to their damp safety, and shout and weep at the mere suggestion of light. He does not drag us into change, raw and blind, to punish us. He forces us into the light and heat of the day, that we might heal, that we might see, that we might learn to fight for ourselves and become better than ourselves.

Like the North Star, He guides us through the night. Distant, but watchful. He is not the Father who holds His children by the hand. He allows us to walk freely, and find our own way. And, when we fall, He is there to remind us that we have the power to stand again, taller and stronger than before.

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