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“Moving on Faith”


A mind like mine lingers too long, perhaps—in its own chambers.

Mapping unseen routes,
sketching futures,
rehearsing outcomes
before breath ever meets action.


I measure distance
not in miles,
but in the space between
what was
and what could be.


And somewhere between
here and there,
silence arrives—
disguised as sanctuary.


But silence can fracture.
It can splinter into stillness
that is not rest,
but retreat.


Limbs grow heavy there—
not from peace,
but from pause overstayed.


Limbs that slacken,
that soften,
that surrender not to God,
but to avoidance.


Refusing motion
when tension thickens,
when conviction calls,
when obedience costs.


Caught in the quiet—
that subtle snare
where comfort mimics peace
and hesitation wears holy clothes.


Yielded to approval,
yet drifting from alignment.


Listen—

not all “silence” is sacred.


In fact some silence is…

misaligned 

misplaced 

misappropriation. 


Do not let disobedience become 

familiar enough to
quiet your voice,
dim your faith,
or fracture your peace.


Because what you refuse to move in
will begin to bury you in place.


And what you will not say,
will echo anyway—
in missed callings,
in delayed obedience,
in the slow erosion of 

who you were meant to be.


So rise—
even if your voice trembles.


Move—
even if your steps resist.


Better a trembling obedience
than a silence that 

buries your purpose 

while you’re still breathing.

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