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?

Comments

The Glass Ceiling of Fear

"You can't "prop up" a person that refuses to stand ."-me Recently, I asked one of my " homeboys " to read a few of my blog posts and help " plug the gap " where my feet often stumbled. He didn't read one, but he read all of them! After a gut-wrenching, " throat punch of truth ," he unleashed the dragon. I was knee-deep in the swamp of hot ashes. Needless to say, I had allowed fear to become my glass ceiling ! Each time, I took off running for the hills , I looked back to the valley for "familiar hands." The " child within " had learned to go without the things needed most; so as an adult, I counseled my fears. I nursed my vulnerabilities. I coached my failures. However, my hands kept reaching for the " mentor within " that the younger version of me survived without. Let's face it! Kids learn what they live, even inherited dysfunction. Grown-up habits can resurf...

Get Out The Way

It takes an incredible “act of faith” to step out on the unknown, but that’s exactly what God did—pushed me right out of the nest. I extended my stay, way beyond the appointed time. My wings were ready, but I secretly clipped them, so I could remain still. I’d been comfortably nested for years, while focused on the “lack of my own hands,” but failed to trust the real provider. I was so keyed in on my inabilities that I refused to take the first step. It was just too scary! What if I failed? Never once realized, that I was equipped to succeed! I’ve always known my life purpose was tied to the ministry of “ service ,” but I failed to develop that hidden potential. I was afraid of rejection . I was afraid to be seen or even heard. I didn’t like attention because it came with an army or critics, including the biggest one within . How would I ever help anyone, if I refused to help myself? I ran into a former high school classmate at the gym. We briefly talked ab...

Becoming

One of the hardest truths to face is--being in a space that no longer serves you . Recently, I made a long, overdue decision to " disconnect " from the social media platform, Facebook. It seemed useless to work diligently to produce in a space that refused to acknowledge my efforts as a noticeable contribution. Showing up as a creative, in a world that pretends not to see you, reaffirms the wounds of " unhealed trauma " that remains undergirded by the scars of rejection. The " lack of engagement " sustained unwelcomed insecurities and prematurely wilted the petals of potential from forming full blooms. It reinforced the concrete walls of abandonment that lined the cracks of subconscious childhood memories. It forced me into the isolated corners of desperation, trying to remain relevant in times of emotional uncertainty. My distress seemed oblivious to the masses that were drowning in their own pain. Help was like foreign aid, unattainable, beca...

A Daily Dose of Freedom

Search This Blog