Don’t Water The Wrong Seeds

Sometimes we find ourselves making excuses for things we refuse to do but secretly cry about the things that never change.

We give until we’re depleted (at our own free will).

We know better but won’t do better.

We run, hide and blame everything and everyone outside of self for our problems.

Why...

Sometimes it’s easier to play the victim when you’re tired.

Sometimes "change" requires you to put that "mustard seed faith" into real action.

Sometimes we "refuse" to live in submission to God’s will.

Yesterday, I shed some heartfelt tears over a few situations that knocked the breath out of me. (Fresh off vacation...fresh into the lions den) My ego was bruised because I couldn’t bring any resolution to the issues. My heart was crushed because I couldn’t offer any signs of light--my hope was overshadowed by darkness. All of the situations at hand seemed beyond God’s attention. The future seemed pretty bleak regarding the matters.

I needed God to magnify my "mustard seed" by doing the impossible. I needed him to lend me an ounce of relief and grant me complete peace over the matter.

He dropped this in my spirit. Forgiveness doesn’t mean "reopening" closed doors. Don’t peek, crack, or lay hands on it. God closed them for our protection. You wouldn’t touch a hot stove after being burned; would you? Oh wait, who am I kidding? I know I’ve touched the same blazing, hot stove dozens of times and cried in disbelief upon being repeatedly burned.

Oftentimes we know how to respond to life’s circumstances but we wrestle with our heart because it’s not always our desire to follow God’s plan. We want to change His mind about the matter when He’s already shown us the way.

We hesitate.

We disobey.

We put the dagger in our own chest.

Yesterday, I cried as I made a heartbreaking decision to bury a part of me that I can never get back but God can. In this season, it’s not acceptable to overextend yourself to situations that aren’t apart of your assignment. He already given you a solid- no!

They say that good things fall apart so that better things can come together. Well, I stand at the feet of Jesus in total submission to His will. I know that when I can’t, He definitely can.

"He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

out of the mud and mire;

he set my feet on a rock

and gave me a firm place to stand."

-Psalm 40:2

Comments

Broken Covenant

Once upon a time— I wanted to believe something was real so desperately that I silenced the Spirit within me just to keep the illusion alive. I saw every red flag— not as warnings, but as tests of how much I was willing to endure to feel chosen. I asked no questions because truth was already whispering, and I feared what obedience would cost me. So I made a covenant with denial— calling lies “grace,” and confusion “patience,” because the truth felt too vast, too holy, too disruptive to the future I had built in my mind. I clung to potential like it was promise, and mistook absence for peace. Yet the weight of it— this thing I called love— crushed my spirit daily. Still, desperation dressed itself as loyalty and convinced me to stay. And it didn’t get better. It decayed. Quietly at first… then unmistakably. Each time God unveiled truth, I chose the comfort of shadows over the calling of light. I pleaded. I prayed. I begged— not for revelation, but for permission to remain where I w...

From Chaos to Calm

After a while… the need to be heard at full volume begins to dissolve. The rooftops grow silent. The flames you once fed with trembling hands no longer feel like power— only exhaustion. What you burned never built a home. And somewhere along the way, you realize— not every echo returns, not every seed takes root, not every mountain was yours to climb. The grace you poured out like water in a desert, the love you offered with open, unguarded hands— it did not come back the way you imagined. And still… you are here. So instead of fighting what refuses to bend, you loosen your grip. Not in defeat— but in awakening. You release the need to be answered, to be chosen, to be understood by those who never learned your language. Your hands, once reaching outward, begin to rise— not in desperation, but in devotion. Upward. Open. Steady. God… I see You now in the quiet I once avoided. I hear You not in the thunder— but in the space where my striving used to live. And I am ready. Something within ...

Do Not Resuscitate (DNR)

What unsettles me most about some people is not the harm they cause— but the silence that follows it. No conviction. No trembling. No evidence that a soul was ever stirred. As if something sacred once lived there… and quietly left. What remains is form without fire. A body that breathes, but does not feel . A Walking corpse. Spiritually vacant, yet socially skilled— fluent in imitation, but foreign to truth. They move through people like weather— touching everything, anchoring nowhere. I once mistook that emptiness for mystery. Confused detachment with depth. Thought restraint was discipline, when it was really disconnection. But there was no rootedness in him— only appetite. An endless hunger dressed as desire. A man grazing on bodies, scrolling through souls like they were disposable moments. Not searching. Not building. Just consuming— to quiet something unnamed within him. Unhealed wounds don’t stay still. They wander. From bed to bed, from face to face, from high ...

A Daily Dose of Freedom

Search This Blog