Are you Reaping or Eating?

It's nearly impossible to convince a person living in poverty that they already have wealth stored in their belly. In the natural, all they see is lack. They have allowed the enemy to arrest their overflow, because they refuse to utilize God's resources. The best way to tap into your inheritance is to ask God to renew your mind.

How do you renew your mind?

Feed it. (Meditate on God's word daily and focus on his truth).
Face it. (Don't ignore your feelings. They won't disappear. Intentionally, cast down "stinking thinking").
Faith it. (Belief for God's best to manifest).

Romans 12:2 is not overrated. It says, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will."

I remember being in barren seasons when my belly was never satisfied, because I inadvertently ate my seed. I came from a tradition of hoarders; so naturally, I gravitated to stock piling things, emotions, and anything else within reach. My book shelves overflowed, my closets collapsed, and my brain felt overloaded. The clutter bombarded my peace, annoyed my spirit, and contaminated my spirit.

Recently, I stumbled across 2 Corinthians 9:10-11, "Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God."

This scripture sent conviction and grieved my spirit. Here, I was sitting in the middle of an overflow nursing selfishness and complaining about lack. God faithfully supplied all my needs. He gives seeds to sowers and bread to eaters. God gives extra to the sowers to bless others but supplies the basic to the eaters.

Which one are you? A sower or an eater!

"The seed will grow well, the vine will yield it's fruit, the ground will produce its crops, and the heavens will drop their dew. I will give all these things as an inheritance to the remnant of this people." Zechariah 8:12

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