A Shepherd’s Blessing (for those who dare to feel)

May you be brave enough to take off the mask...

even when the world prefers the performance.

 

May your wounds not be hidden,

but offered, like bread, to those who hunger

for something real.

 

May you walk not as one above the fray,

but among the broken-hearted...

as one who has bled, and still chooses to bless.

 

Let others call it weakness…

but you will know: this is your strength.

 

For the Good Shepherd does not shine with power,

He kneels in the dust,

He weeps at gravesides,

He touches the untouchable,

and whispers, I am here.

 

May you carry this presence

into rooms thick with fear,

into systems ruled by masks and armour,

into silences that ache for one honest voice.

 

And when you are tired,

when the world seems unmoved by love,

may you remember:

 

The quietest acts are the most subversive.

To love anyway...

to stay when others leave...

to listen instead of fix...

to weep with instead of reason with...

this is the revolution of the shepherd.

 

So go, not with answers,

but with presence.

And be the courage that calls others home.