From Bound to Free

Recently, someone called me “insecure”—

and for a fleeting moment,
my spirit flinched.

Not because the word fit,
but because it echoed
something I once trusted him to hold gently.

See, when we first crossed paths,
I was still stitching myself together—
learning the weight of my worth,
untangling rejection from identity,
trying to believe I was enough
without asking permission.

And isn’t it something—
how people will weaponize
the very wounds you trusted them with?

But patterns…
they linger like unfinished prayers
until you let God close the door completely.

Still, there’s something unsettling
about a grown man
mocking a chapter
God already delivered me from.

That kind of smallness
doesn’t touch my worth—
but it does reveal his.

I felt the tension rise,
a lethal response forming on my tongue,
but disappointment…
sent me higher and shifted my posture.

Straight to the Upper Room.

And there,
in that quiet sacred place,
God whispered both clarity and correction:

Everything doesn’t deserve your voice.
Everything doesn’t require your energy.

Silence—
when ordained—
is not weakness.
It is authority.

Because when God renews your mind,
you don’t defend healed places.
You don’t argue with versions
of who you used to be.

Insecurity doesn’t answer roll call
when it’s been evicted.

So why entertain interruptions
sent to:
kill your purpose,
steal your joy,
and disturb your peace?

No—
access to those vulnerable places has been revoked.

Because when God heals a wound,
He doesn’t leave breadcrumbs
for you to find your way back to it.

There is no spinning the block

No revisiting graves where I was once abandoned and left for dead.

God, I thank you for what was meant to break me…

became the very place
you rebuilt me!

And now?

The door is closed.
The lesson is learned.
The healing is final.

Access denied.

Baby, ain’t nothing “insecure”
about this “internal” glow!

Comments

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