Michael had hit rock bottom-his job, his apartment, even his tiny shred of self-respect all gone. With aching feet and a hollow belly, he drifted through the city, convinced everyone else could see straight through him. On a cold, drizzly night he huddled in the shadows beside a church door, hoping the overhang would keep him mostly dry.
When dawn broke, a bent old woman swung the heavy door open. She froze when she spotted him, then lifted her face into a warm, no-judgment smile. Come in, child, she said, as if inviting him to tea, not to church. You arent alone.
Inside she ladled hot soup, spread a worn blanket, and set a well-thumbed Bible on the pew. Michael shook his head. I quit on God long ago. God never quit on you, she answered, nodding toward the pages. Hes still hunting for you-like the shepherd after one lost sheep or the woman who turned the house upside down for a single coin.
Something in Michaels chest cracked. He picked up the Bible, thumbed through it, and found words he didnt know he was hungry for. Days turned into weeks, and the church network linked him to a shy but steady job shelving books. Life still wobbled at times, yet a sense of purpose scaffolds each new morning.
Now he bends low to other lost faces, murmuring the phrase that pulled him upright: You are not alone.
Gods love didnt just rescue him-it handed back his name, his dignity, and a reason to keep walking.
Sumble
The Lost Coin
Michael had hit rock bottom-his job, his apartment, even his tiny shred of self-respect all gone. With aching feet and a hollow belly, he drifted through the city, convinced everyone else could see straight through him. On a cold, drizzly night he huddled in the shadows beside a church door, hoping the overhang would keep him mostly dry.
When dawn broke, a bent old woman swung the heavy door open. She froze when she spotted him, then lifted her face into a warm, no-judgment smile. Come in, child, she said, as if inviting him to tea, not to church. You arent alone.
Inside she ladled hot soup, spread a worn blanket, and set a well-thumbed Bible on the pew. Michael shook his head. I quit on God long ago. God never quit on you, she answered, nodding toward the pages. Hes still hunting for you-like the shepherd after one lost sheep or the woman who turned the house upside down for a single coin.
Something in Michaels chest cracked. He picked up the Bible, thumbed through it, and found words he didnt know he was hungry for. Days turned into weeks, and the church network linked him to a shy but steady job shelving books. Life still wobbled at times, yet a sense of purpose scaffolds each new morning.
Now he bends low to other lost faces, murmuring the phrase that pulled him upright: You are not alone.
Gods love didnt just rescue him-it handed back his name, his dignity, and a reason to keep walking.
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