Let not my mind deny the Thought of God

I rarely announce that I am denying God.

It happens in quieter ways.

I decide this moment is the exception to peace. I agree that love may be present in general, but not in the conversation that went badly, the joy I do not trust, or the future my mind has already filled with loss.

The Thought of God remains, but I place a conclusion in front of it.

Sometimes the conclusion sounds reasonable: I cannot relax because something could change. I cannot feel safe while someone I love is struggling. I cannot release this because then I might stop being prepared.

These thoughts do not seem like denial. They seem like facts.

I have noticed this during an afternoon when nothing was wrong. I was laughing with people I loved when a thought quietly interrupted: *Do not get too comfortable. You know how quickly life can change.*

The warning felt almost responsible. It offered worry as a way to respect everything I had once survived.

For a few seconds, I let the possibility of future loss become more real than the love directly in front of me.

The practice was not to guarantee that nothing would change. It was to stop using change as proof that the Thought of God had disappeared.

God’s Thought is the truth of love, wholeness, and our unbroken place within Him. My denial can hide that truth from my awareness, but it cannot change it.

That distinction gives me somewhere to stand while the mind is still afraid.

Today I want to notice the situation I have declared too serious, painful, or unresolved for peace to enter.

I do not have to force a spiritual interpretation onto something that hurts.

I can simply stop insisting that the hurt has driven God from the room.

The Thought of God is here before I believe it, while I resist it, and when I finally become willing to let it answer me.