Breaking Free

So one of my sisters is about to give “spiritual birth” in the next week and I couldn’t be more excited. With a heart of pure gold evident by her generosity and kindness, I couldn’t think of a more deserving person.

As the time draws near,  I began to seek God’s face on what that “freedom” looks like.

“Breaking free” looks like chains falling by the wayside and captives:

Loosening cords of strongholds,

Breaking old, familiar soul ties,

Reversing generational curses,

Tearing down barriers of oppression,

Severing toxic connections, 

Shining light on darkness.

And rebuilding temples on God’s foundation of truth.

It’s time to “silence the enemy” with a sucker punch to the throat and send him packing.

It’s time to “kick down” the invisible fences that seek to restrain the power within.

It’s time to “cut the cords” of toxicity.

It’s time to “roll up our sleeves” and allow FAITH to win.

When you attend a recital, ballet, or opera, the “applause” always comes at the end.

In this season, I’m making moves in “reverse.”

I’m “clapping” for the personal victories that are already won.

I’m “cheering” for the captives already set free.

I’m “celebrating” the freedom that was purchased 2,000 years ago on the cross.

“Knowing” there is no failure in Him gives me the courage to face Goliath and take my best shot.

I’m coming out—swinging!

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”-Galatians 5:1

Sink or Swim

"You don't drown by falling in the water, you drown by staying there." -Robert Jordan

As I quietly sat still in an office on yesterday, my mind drifted out the nearby, double-paned window onto the pillow of peaceful clouds. I have always been a "dreamer" like Joseph! You could frequently find me on the side of the road collecting discarded scrapes of wood to build a ship like Noah. However, I wasn't able to convince others that the ship was needed, so my dreams faded into the background of forgetfulness.

For the past year and a half, I have been hustlin' like a mad woman to spark a fire to reignite those dreams. But who knew that my immediate family would suffer six deaths in eight months? Somewhere my resiliency plummeted like the overall morale in the surrounding city. I know my response as a "believer" should not resemble the world, but the humanity of my heart was still immersed in complete shock!

On this morning, I woke up with so much tension built up in my chest that it felt like a volcano was about to erupt throughout my blood vessels. A combination of unhealthy habits was the culprit behind this unsolicited attention. Discipline seemed to be hiding far behind the bushes of my continued disobedience. I searched my heart for a trail of answers. Where was the disconnect? Obviously, there was a lack of accountability lingering. However, I refused to look in the mirror! I was blinded by sorrow.

In the dark shadows of my concealed curtains of grief, God shed some light. I kept self-sabotaging my Job season by tripping on life's inevitable circumstances. Every time the enemy threw me a curve ball, God handed me an attached blessing. I unintentionally--fumbled!

When the winds howled aggressively, I nervously slipped into the swamp waters. I continued to navigate through the same gritty, muddy waters with my outgrown "survival" vest on. Even though I could swim, I insisted on sinking. 

"Swimming" took endurance, courage, and action. 

Today, I just wanted to sink in the muddy waters of defeat, but then I remembered who would "watch" me drown. Even when I don't have the heart to swim for me, I refuse to let him witness me sink.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1:2-4

As the two of us walked around the City Lake on today, God's promises were revealed when I caught a glimpse of my grandson soaking up the Son. He loved me through the "bad days!" When we stopped for this picture, "swimming" had become easier.

The Veil of Vulnerability

It takes an undeniable amount of courage to be naked and unashamed, while "breastfeeding" your baby, on any public platform.  

The "umbrella of shade" can solicit you back to the secluded, retreat of Egypt.
The "air pockets of assumptions" can create a shortage of sufficient oxygen supply.
The "gas-filled, toxic, chamber of ridicule" can cause an obstructive regurgitation of choked, spoken words.
The "crucifixion of judgment" can rupture vital organs beyond man's natural repair.

D-e-s-p-i-t-e the battered, bloodstained, exposed "flesh wounds,"
I choose to "show up" daily from behind the veil.

I traded the guilt-ridden, ill-fitting, torn widow's garments for the fine linens of praise.
I refused to waste the oil from my alabaster box on the feet of those who intentionally crushed my spirit.
I refuted the gut-wrenching, oppression of falsehoods with the light of God's truth.
I released the imprisoned, little, muffled captive and set her soul free.

Now when the attacks rise up, my spiritual man unleashes, "No weapon formed against me shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against me in judgment You shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is from Me," says the Lord.- Isaiah 54:17

When the veil is torn, imprisoned souls are set free.

"At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split." --Matthew 27:51

Can the captives of the world trust you enough to unveil their vulnerabilities without you mocking their pain?

Disconnected

“She was a stranger in her own life, a tourist in her own body.” --- Melissa de la Cruz, The Van Alen Legacy  

When I opened my eyes this morning, it felt like my body had undergone reconstructive surgery. I placed my hand over my chest and there was no movement. I forced my eyes shut and fell back asleep. I woke up again and still no heartbeat. A cloud of temporary amnesia held the rain of reality back awhile longer. My limbs were barely draped in the torn gown of sadness while self-medication offered a temporary injection of numbness.

In seclusion, I wrestled secretly with the overwhelming lingering grief from the residue of losses my family suffered this year. The ongoing trauma kept me in a strained, defeated posture of intimate pain. The unhealed, wounds proved to be a sign of infection that spilled over to arrest my thoughts.

The enemy stripped, beat, and placed chains around my mind. He sentenced me to "death row." It was not the first imprisonment. However, this time, I was NOT afraid!

Somehow, the seeds that my grandmother had nurtured on the inside of my belly had reached maturation. I was no longer buried beneath the swamp of helplessness, I was actually planted on his mountaintop of victory.

I put on the armor of God, drew my sword, and worshipped despite the "internal disconnect!"

All of a sudden, the hills of despair collapsed, the chains of oppression loosed, and the clouds of sadness disappeared.

The enemy came to steal, kill, and destroy but God flipped the script.

He renewed my mind, returned my peace, and restored my hope.

I danced, shouted, and straightened my grandmother's crown.

Don't let the natural "disconnect" disguise the promise.

"About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly there was such a violent earthquake that the foundations of the prison were shaken. At once all the prison doors flew open, and everyone's chains came loose." -Acts 16:25-26

Our story lives on through your life, your love, and your legacy. IT AIN'T OVER!

The SackCloth of Sorrow

"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." -Psalm 73:26   

On today, in the empty spaces of my soul, I chose to color in the "voids" with black crayons. I intentionally decided to pitch a tent in the pit to isolate my vulnerabilities and nurse my grieving heart privately. I consciously abandoned the fences of religious expectations that place limitations on my process and seeks to persecute the validity of my faith. The oversized, sackcloth of sorrow drapes my flesh and replaces the superwoman cape, which attests to my humanity.

In the exiled swamp of my tears, I release the anchors of doubt that tries to drown me. As I float on my back and close my eyes to what-if scenarios, I inhale his promises. His peace leads my anxiousness beside the still waters of his calmness. My bones hover over a body of childhood memories. As I drift further, I see familiar hands reaching for me, but I'm out of proximity.

My flesh responds in anger and I begin to fight against the currents to reach those hands. I know it's her, so I fight harder. Swarms of black crows claim my attention. The troubled water pulls me underneath a few times.

After I stop wrestling, I realize it's morning again. Doves are circling the air. The sunshine dances over the body of water that surrounds me and the ripples comfort me.

"For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5

Too Soon

"The song is ended, but the melody lingers on." -Irving Berlin

The one thing that has remained constant over my tenure here on earth, is my relationship with my grandmother.

Seasons change.
Climates change.
Time changes.

BUT our hearts NEVER skipped a beat. We never lost connection. Our records never scratched. Her vocals planted a "lifetime right" of poetic muse in the depths of my soul so strong that I can't help but hear the melody continually play on.

As I cling to her bedside watching for any sign of consciousness, her unresponsive eyelids has my spirit a little "unsettled." Every breath sounds like a struggle. I look for hope for an extended stay, but I see her frail, physical body wrapped in a spiritual cocoon of protection. She's above us now.

I know (without a shadow of doubt) that she has faithfully served with all she had.
I know that she has executed her race wholeheartedly with grace.
I know that she is patiently anticipating her crown.

I hear the nearby trumpets sounding the alarm to "call her home."

My peace is overwhelmed by the melancholy of indecision. Did our family fulfill the mission of her legacy of servanthood? Did we "advocate" for her well-being? Did we faithfully return to her (the fullness of life) that she breathed into our lungs?

There is no IV bag present.
There is no feeding tube.
There is no trace of preventative care measures.

I pray that she is NOT suffering.
I pray that she is resting well.
I pray mostly that we have not given up too soon.

Edgar Allan Poe said, "The boundaries which divide life from death are at best showy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" 

Sleeping With the Enemy

"those memories you hold onto are poisonous, and until you can learn to let go, you will never fully heal."  Billy Chapata, Sour Honey & Soul Food

We never know the depth of a wound until we start undressing the bandages.....

I've never been afforded the opportunity to fully wrap my arms around the totality of love. I assumed that my heart's rhythm had been severed by arteries that hemorrhaged during seasons of shock. I remember waking up in ice cold, lifeless rooms full of stainless steel after suffering from cardiac "love" arrest. Defibrillators sent jolts of electrical currents to revive the remains of the deceased.

There was no pulse. No sign of radioactivity. My heart never made a full recovery from the sustained trauma. In that vacant spot, weeds grew from the empty cracks. On occasion, the weeds required pruning, but I refused. Pruning meant acknowledging the evidence of buried roots. Instead I opted for the anesthesia of denial and superficial prosthetics.

It was easier to pretend with the masked, optical illusion of a full recovery. On the surface, there wasn't any visible signs of damage; but underneath, the void remained. My survival became contingent upon camouflage.

I drowned out the reality of my truth by sleeping with the enemy.

I slept with the desperation of depression.    

I slept with the aches of addictions.
I slept with the ugliness of untruth.

However, my perfectly, tucked white sheets always reveled hints of bloodstained sin. God always has a way of "uncovering" the truth!

I'm thankful that God exposed my darkness with light.
I'm grateful that He turned my defiled bed of unrest into a sanctuary of peace.
I'm humbled that he turned my silent cries into unspeakable joy.

"Love" gave my heart a chance to beat on sync again!

If you climb into bed with the enemy, don't be surprised if you become impregnated with his seed.

You can't free yourself from bondage while willfully sleeping with the enemy!

Who or what is hiding underneath the secret sheets of your unrest?

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

Emancipation of An Introvert

"For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others."--Nelson Mandela       

Overwhelming gravitational forces chased me down the road of self-care over the weekend. I temporarily suspended all responsibilities to practice the power of the pause. I removed the hats, shed the layers, and let my hair down. Living up to self-imposed, daily expectations can be quite the journey.

At times, I "choked" on my own breath by insisting on being my biggest enemy, worst critic and loudest voice to silence.

However, this was not the time to summon myself into a boxing match full of self-doubt, insecurity, and indecision. I couldn't afford to lose momentum because time was a "coveted" commodity.

Somehow, I managed to grab hold of the keys and unlock the chains.  

I set myself free from perfection.    

I set myself free from criticism.
I set myself free from judgment.

 I inhaled the ruach of God and exhaled condemnation, guilt, and shame.

 Public opinions no longer set the precedent for my trajectory, nor did it hold me captive any longer.

My clipped, introverted wings had tripled in size and strength.

It was time...

Time to shed the outdated.
Time to flee the nest.
Time to soar.

"David rescued everyone whom the Amalekites had captured, including his two wives. Nothing of theirs was missing, whether small or large, sons or daughters, spoil, or anything that they had taken for themselves--David brought back everything." 1 Samuel 30:18-19

Whose prison will you "unlock" on today?

What captives are you committed to releasing with your keys?

If people's freedom and liberties are contingent upon your obedience, will you say," YES?"

Thristy

"Women yearn for change and will make great sacrifices for it." -Lydia, A Dream Compels Us: Voices of Salvadoran Women                      

On Friday morning, I traded my normally scheduled work day for a mental health day. One of my top priorities (school) had been counterproductive for a few weeks, because my attention span was crumbling under pressure. My sanity drowned in a debt of unresolved, surrounding crisis. My cup overflowed with anxious thoughts and chest pains interrupted my calm. My body went into "fight mode" and my blood pressure spiked. 

I was sick and tired of "being sick and tired". Everything inside of me was screaming on the inside but no one could hear me. People were fighting their own battles. In survival boot camp training, I was instinctively taught not to flinch at the presence of pain but to endure in silence. Because 9 times out of 10, not one was coming to "save you."

I quietly suffocated every time I closed my eyes and submerged my head under the shallow body of muddy water that surrounded me.

Connections that gave me life were outsourced because my diverted attention was stuck in the generational swamp of dysfunction.

My spirit man is a "whole vibe" by itself. It flows best from sitting at tables full of creative energy where there is an electrical charge so strong that I'm forced into action. I love being in spaces where people challenge my intellectual abilities and my imagination becomes unhinged from stale, conventional  routines.

However, my space felt cramped, confined and detached. My celebratory ceremony was interrupted by a desperate aura. My compulsion for expansion vexed the giant within. The internal famine nurtured a physical drought. The drought sparked a fire that lit a torch of smoke around my heart.

I thirst for rivers that flow from my belly, feed my spirit, and fill the empty wells.

I thirst for F-R-E-E-D-O-M.

"And he was very thirsty, and he called upon the LORD and said, You have granted this great salvation by the hand of your servant, and shall I now die of thirst and fall into the hands of the uncircumcised? And God split open the hollow place that is at Lehi, and water came from it. And when he drank, his spirit returned, and he revived..." Judges 15:18-19 

Pausing daily to intentionally drink from his cup is the only proven way to satisfy this thirst.

The Giant Within

"The question which one asks oneself begins, at last, to illuminate the world, and become one's keys to the experience of others. One can only face in others what one can face in oneself. On this confrontation depends the measure of our wisdom and compassion."  James Baldwin, Nobody Knows My Name

A lot of people attached to me are struggling with some heavy burdens. Not only does it grieve my spirit; but oftentimes, I feel the weight of their pain resting on my shoulders.

Many times, I have walked through the same fog of darkness that holds them captives in the valleys.

Naturally, my flesh desires to "rescue," but I offer intercession instead. Impulsiveness has taught me to avoid offering myself as a living sacrifice.

My frustration with others reluctance to lean into God's power caused me to evaluate my spiritual journey more closely.

I had to get still with God on last night and ask him a difficult question.

I asked, "Why do we work so tirelessly to "slay" the visible demons? But we ignore the "invisible ones" that causes us to feel depressed, depleted, and defeated.

Revelation dropped, "We allow our insecurities to 'acknowledge and exalt' the enemy as the giant within, rather than rely on God's internal power as the giant that defeats."

When we entertain the shenanigans of the enemy, it keeps our feet stuck in muddy water. It keeps us chained to false imprisonment. It keeps us living beneath his best. It keep us from enjoying his abundance. It's time to shake the dust off.

Finish strong.                                          

Run, Girl, Run.

Evict the enemy taking up residency inside your camp.

The "only" giant that should occupy space in your heart is the undefeated, Most High, The Great, I Am.

We already got the keys to the kingdom! Use them.

Don't refuse to unlock your prison.
Don't sit chained to the fence when God has given you the authority to possess the land.

Myles Monroe said, "You were never created to be dominated."

Recite "it" till you don't have to rehearse it anymore.

"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." Ephesians 6:12 (KJV)