A Sinner’s Prayer

Lord,

Close the door to my past.

Hide me behind the cross.

Teach me your ways.

Seal my concealed wounds.

Sharpen my discernment.

Cancel my “woe is me” membership.

Expunge my record of mistakes.

Forgive my sins.

Pardon my debt.

Reconcile my faith.

Wash me clean.

Restore my hope.

Give me wisdom.

Breathe new life into me.

In your Son Jesus name, I pray.

 Amen.

Generational Curses of Service

Lord, untie the knots that keep me tied to “people pleasing.”

Break the yokes that keep my soul obligated to say “yes,” when my heart silently screams, “no.”

Destroy the bondage of traditional “soul ties” that keep me responsible for appeasing the unappreciative.

Remove the chains that command my “immediate attention” when my allotted time isn’t sufficient to overwhelming demands.

Cease the inner condemnation that says, what I have to offer “never amounts to enough.”

Halt the enemies “intentional” destructive attacks of unrelenting oppression.

End the consistent strides towards “unrealistic” perfection.

Terminate the vicarious need to assume delegated roles that aren’t “divinely” assigned.

Disrupt the critics complaints sent to “impede” my creative flow.

Obstruct the “forces of opposition” that strive to convince me that self-care is selfish and service has no end.

The Power of Vulnerability

 Hear my heart speak clearly with this one.

My reluctancy to blog "consistently" hasn't come from a place of slothfulness or abandonment, but it's been an intense period of deep self-actualization. God forced me outside on the back porch with a shovel in hand to dig in the ditch. I had to pull up all the surrounding weeds by the root at my own pace. Most importantly, I had to let go of somethings that kept my feet stuck in the mud. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible either! God, truly was the source of my strength in all of my weaknesses. 

I needed to "feel" things that I was blatantly avoiding, without public scrutiny present.

I needed to "step" back and take a closer look in the mirror without resentment, doubt and insecurities running laps around me. 

I needed to "see" myself the way that God sees me and less of how (I felt) the world sees me.  

I needed to "catch" my breath behind closed doors without interruption.

I needed to "establish" healthy boundaries between my introverted personality among extroverted friends. 

I didn't need another added outlet, a rescue or crisis intervention but I needed to be completely delivered---set free from the spirit of "rejection." It was secretly tormenting me. I found myself doing the same ole two step to the same ole beat. I was recycling old encounters with new faces. 

God intentionally interrupted the music replay, as my mentor (completely unaware of my inner struggles) handed me a CD by Pastor Sheryl Brady one day. Catch this confirmation---the name of the message was "The Value of Vulnerability." Talk about God's omnipotent power, I couldn't have prayed for a more divine appointment. 

Anyway, I was feeling "some type of way" about openly sharing my weaknesses on this blog. My transparency was starting to make me a little uncomfortable, not that I was ashamed. However, my story didn't come packaged all beautiful and full of sunshine, roses and rainbows after the storms. Let's be honest, people don't always want to hear about your struggles because sometimes it reminds them of their own shortcomings. 

As I was driving home that night, I heard Pastor Brady say, "The world hides stuff but the Bible doesn't. The Bible refers to two men in the Bible as meek--Jesus and Moses. Moses had anger issues, killed Egyptians, broke the Ten Commandments, and smote the rock (instead of speaking to it). His anger issues kept him out of The Promise Land. Abraham was called the "Father of Faith" but lied and called Sarah his sister so that he wouldn't be killed. Where was his faith?"

Without a doubt, God will look at our "greatest weakness" and call it "strength!" How many times have you heard people say that your weakness and your strengths can sometimes be the same thing?I'm sure this is true for me; because sometimes my "honesty" feels like a blessing and a curse for obvious reasons, including this blog. Salvation doesn't come with a guaranteed stamp of perfection.  There will be mistakes, failures and obstacles. So at some point, you gotta ask yourself (in all honesty) is my assignment done out of obedience to God or the glory of people? 

If nobody ever shows up, will you quit? 

Will you abort your assignment traveling through the wilderness? 

Will you strangle your breech baby, due to complications? 

Will your terminate your pregnancy during delivery? 

Will you disconnect God's call to answer man's?

Will you cancel God's best from arriving?

"Gideon was a coward, timid, and scared but God called him a mighty man of valor. Peter was irrational, unstable, impulsive, emotional but God called him a rock. God called those things that weren't as if they were." -S. Brady 

Today, as I sat smack dab in front of a panel at a Singles Conference in Raleigh, God reminded me about "the power of vulnerability."  All the mighty men and women in the Bible had issues, but it didn't stop God from using them.

Don't hold yourself a prisoner to doubt! 

God chose you for a reason! 

He is pouring out His blessings, but are you in position to receive?

 Do you seek perfection or permission from Him to move ahead?

"You have kept count of my tossing; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?" 

  -Psalm 56:8

The Divine Healer

 She despises the spotlight but secretly aches in isolation.

In her desperate furtive attempts of disguise,

she disfigures her identity with the enemies’ lies.

She gasps for a smidgen of breath as she hesitates to set her bed of memories ablaze.

In her pirated moments of intentional quietness,

she daydreams of God’s promises for a pain free tomorrow.

She comes from a robust lineage of matriarchal warriors.

“Survival of the fittest,” her soul’s familiar mantra.

In her confined anguish and outward rebellion, God abruptly sends a word of comfort and meticulously closes her visible wounds to a microscopic afterthought.

Now, when she speaks of the former imprisoned chains, it’s a daily testament of how God’s grace and mercy sets the wounded captives free.

His Love

His repeated petition for love caught my heart by utter surprise.
His mysterious heart remained incarcerated by lust and a trajectory of deceitful lies.

His artificial love magically strolled confidently on the scene, whenever He became angry with Cupid for a misguided conquest
or Aphrodite’s misconstrued beauty that went unmet.

Mama forced him to spend his earlier years, camped out on cracked, wooden pews,
internalizing foreign messages about a God that He never really knew.

Now that his manhood gradually exceeded puberty and his heart beat for love infatuation,
there was no solid foundation to withstand- no trace of genuine relation.

He failed to wait patiently and seek guidance from “The Great I Am,” Alpha and Omega.

His “love fallacy” was nothing more than a teenage embellishment of 
superficial procreation.
Searching for love but lost in the mix of modern-day cohabitation.

His love suffered many premature deaths.
He knew nothing of genuine relationship,
he leaned into the wrong help.

His close comrades were good for shooting the breeze with a fling or two,
but mention “real love” and none had a clue.

He was obnoxiously smitten with her peculiar intellect 
but that wasn’t quite enough to satisfy his erotic flesh.

His manhood grew increasingly impatient, waiting for her to compromise and agree to relations.

So moral of the story that’s been told.

Now you see, why his love proved to be,
just no good for lil ole me.

A Place Of My Own

My mind sailed freely into “writers overload,” watching the movie, Black Panther. It was a true depiction of my grieving heart. I secretly longed for “Wakanda” to be my permanent residence. They say, “you can’t miss what you’ve never had,” but I strongly disagree! You’ll “fight” your whole life, trying to get “there!” I guess, I’m subconsciously fighting to get to Wakanda, a place that doesn’t exist. (Talk about unrealistic expectations; huh?)

My complicated brain houses 70% of elaborate missionary goals of future international travel plans and 30% is the critic screaming within, “It’s not possible!” I intentionally suit up daily to fight against these dark principalities that come to steal my joy and invade my dreams. I fight hard to silence the small, intimidating voice that says, “a little country girl from the rural, unheard of area of Nash County can’t possibly make any major moves, outside of local territory.” Then there is the child of God that fights to overpower that lingering doubt.

There is a place within my heart that knows without a doubt that I am destined for greatness. There is God’s reassurance that I can do this! There is a warrior within that won’t quit! The more I dream, the more I see it coming to pass.

Note to self: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” —Phil 4:13

Lord, I believe it! Remove any doubt or sign of fear. If it doesn’t align with your word, “Burn it to the ground!” Don’t let my ounce of unbelief reignite the flames of self-doubt and overtake my mission. Don’t let my dreams die in the fire! Let them endure, without evidence of smoke.

That greatness I seek after doesn’t coincide with the luxuries of the American dream. I keep trying to convince myself that I need a newer car but the passion-driven introvert (I try to ignore) yearns for an extended international missions trip. I want to experience the world, not just travel it. It very well could amount to me, making strides to go off the grid in an secluded international island that welcomes what I have to offer. My destiny could be connected to a place I’ve never seen in the physical but dreamed of in the spiritual. (Movie reference: Wakanda lives forever in me)

Maybe, I’m just dreaming with my eyes wide open, while still lingering in the cultural restricted wilderness.j

Sometimes, it annoys me that I don’t want what everyone else wants to achieve. I’ve had a taste of “financial freedom” that came with mountains of devastating, traumatic pain. I’ve been blessed with opportunities that people work their whole life to achieve but that wasn’t apart of my dream. I bought into the lie and suffered at my own hands of conformity.

It’s amazing when people encounter my present-day circumstances. They secretly try to recreate their version of some pitiful “rags to riches story” that went wrong. They have no idea that I walked away, without fight, because there was no peace in the presumed wealth. (I’ve never told the whole story and I can count on one hand those that know the entire truth).

Some are validated by “things,” but that’s not my story. I wish it was sometimes—maybe then, “obtaining things” would appease the longing spirit. The longing to achieve more outside of reoccurring debt. Truth be told, I don’t want to live a life working to pay for luxuries. I’m not knocking anyone that does but that’s not me. I want “a place of my own” to be free—not enslaved to a thirty year commitment. Maybe, that’s an impossible, imaginary fantasy of where my nonfiction capabilities collide with fictional inclinations. In other words, not the realistic way of the world.

(I’m sure, I may not make much sense to some! lol)

I’m not disputing hard work. In fact, I was built from the “struggle.
All I’m saying, is at some point, don’t you get sick of the struggle?
Why is the struggle real?
Who said we had to struggle?
Didn’t we inherit God’s best outside of struggles?
So why are we still living out of a lack/poverty mentality?

Lord, let us enjoy the fruit of your lips. Let us hold in our hearts your word to be true. Allow it to resonate in our minds, as we keep our focus fine tuned to your will. Let us pursue your will for the reminder of our lives. Let us enjoy the FREEDOM that you unselfishly provided by the shedding of your blood. In Jesus name I pray, AMEN.

Self Reflection: What are you believing God for without restriction, self-doubts or limitations? Are you believing for the impossible, made possible by a capable God?

Do you want a place of your own?

To be happy and FREE!

Speak to Me

Don’t “speak” to the woman that you physically see.

“Speak” to the Queen arising from the dust that is spiritually free.

“Speak” to the 

undeveloped potential,

the starving dreams,

the hidden talent.

“Speak” to the “Mother” of our future generation with grace and dignity.

“Speak” life into her barren womb.

“Speak” peace before she’s gone too soon.

“Speak” love without profit or gain.

“Speak” healing and she’ll never be the same.

unapologetically FREE

I decided to take a “mental health hiatus” from blogging to disrupt all the emotional background noise that was on constant repeat. There was a sensitive situation going on behind closed doors that was claiming my tears in the midnight hour but forced me out of bed with a smile during the day. It was too big for my britches, so I didn’t even dabble with it at all. There was no need to pull out the ill-fitting mask. There was no need for me to entertain the “what if scenarios.” In fact, there wasn’t even a need for me to touch it. It was way too big for my hands. I gave it to God and left it there, without looking back or allowing it to consume me.

During the meantime, I filled my time with different activities that claimed my undivided attention. I falsely assumed that I needed several outlets to drown out the hidden pain. I didn’t want to stop and grieve. I was secretly hurting but refused to allow myself to feel anything. My plan was to ignore the pain until it subsided, but that wasn’t God’s plan.

My to do list was suffering because my focus was broken. My discipline was nonexistent because I couldn’t concentrate. I tried unsuccessfully to plug the holes with busyness; yet, I grew extremely angry because I still wasn’t producing. My roots were grounded but my limbs were bare. Since I still woke up hungry everyday, I resorted to survival. I started to eat the fruit from other trees. It wasn’t my preference but survival is what I knew best!

The best way to describe the attack was like—waking up daily, holding a plastic bag over your face, waiting to die, but too cowardly to keep the bag there. It had to be supernatural divine intervention.—God. He definitely made a way of escape. He must have poked an undetectable pin-size, air-hole in the bag, cause here I was—still breathing (while on spiritual life support).

Meds were the cowardly solution. A fifteen minute doctor’s visit could numb the pain temporarily but God had something else in mind. I had to experience the discomfort while still functioning. I couldn’t drown myself on the couch with bottomless carbs while feeling sorry for myself. I couldn’t recreate a self-inflicted pity party because I forgot how. I really no longer knew how to feel sorry for myself because I didn’t feel “sorry!” I was unapologetically free!

I no longer required to be spoon fed. I knew how to cook! 

Even though, I’m vertically challenged in statue, I didn’t need the footstool.

 I could see over this valley. Well, in fact, God made it more like a step over the enemies pit.

Today, I’m strolling on the treadmill, typing this testimony. I am without apology, me! I don’t have to subject myself to conformity. I have my own identity in Him.

I am not the norm,

far from average,

rarely make sense to the ordinary.

I am more than the physical statue.

I am my own voice.

I am proud of the woman I an becoming.

Like me or hate me, I don’t need the spotlight to shine. It doesn’t bother me, if I gotta “shine” from the basement.

In fact, I think I’ll “show up” for me today! 

I think I’ll jump off this treadmill and take myself out on a movie date. 

I think I’ll honor the single queen in me with a careFREE attitude.

I think I’ll start living life on my terms without explanation.

I think, no in fact, I LOVE ME SOME ME!