God, The Greatest Showman

God is truly the greatest Showman. He sets our stages from eternity, long before we ever take our first breath. We walk out scenes that Heaven already scripted, and yet, in the middle of the divine storyline, the enemy loves to show up uninvited. He steps in like an understudy trying to steal the spotlight, attempting to twist the plot, shift the narrative, and derail what God ordained. But what the enemy doesn’t understand is this: God is the Master Director. He knows how to circumvent every scheme, rewrite every line the enemy tries to alter, and flip the script before the enemy even realizes the scene has changed.

He didn’t know he was going to be the hangman and all his sons.

Satan plots, but God plans. And when the enemy thinks he has you right where he wants you—boxed in, silenced, cornered, and defeated—God steps in and outsmarts him every single time. This is exactly what happened in the story of Esther, Mordecai, and Haman. Esther moved with wisdom and strategy. Mordecai didn’t fight with public theatrics; he moved with quiet obedience and intercession. And Haman, with all his arrogance, crafted gallows he was so sure would hold the man he hated. But the same trap he built is the one God ordained for his own downfall.

That’s the thing about God—He watches everything. Even when it looks like injustice is going unnoticed. Even when it feels like the enemy’s whisper is louder than Heaven’s promise. God writes. God remembers. God records. Just as Mordecai’s act of mercy was written in the king’s chronicles, what you’ve sown—your obedience, your sacrifice, your faithfulness—has been written in God’s book of remembrance. Heaven keeps receipts.

Mordecai didn’t even know the king had been awakened in the night. He didn’t know God was disturbing sleep on his behalf. He didn’t know favor was being stirred in unseen realms. At the same time God intended to honor him, Satan had decreed to destroy him. Two plans were in motion—but only one would stand.

That is where many of us are right now. You can feel both things pressing at the same time—the blessing and the battle. The promise and the pressure. The cross and the crowning. But hear me: when God decides it’s your time, no decree of the enemy can override the decision of Heaven.

God is breaking the spirit of Haman off your life. Off your name. Off your family. Off your purpose. Every plot formed against you is about to flip. Every trap is about to reverse. Every word curse is about to fall to the ground. And the very thing the enemy built to destroy you is about to become the platform God uses to elevate you.

God loves to show off for those who trust Him. He is not intimidated by wicked plots. He is not threatened by demonic strategy. He is not moved by who rises against you. But He always defends those who put their trust in Him.

So be careful who you plot against. Be careful who you speak against. Be careful who you mishandle. God watches how His chosen ones are treated, and He responds accordingly.

Your story isn’t ending in defeat. God is about to step into your scene, flip the script, and reveal that He is the Author that still has the final word.

We've All Entered the Game

Long before the game Roblox was ever invented, God designed something far more complex, far more intentional, and far more immersive—real life. What we now experience through screens and avatars, God first demonstrated through a people, a promise, and a journey. When I look at the world in 2026—politically, educationally, professionally, and financially—it feels as though we have all entered a game we didn’t choose, but one we must learn how to navigate.

The children of Israel were living inside what felt like an unwinnable level. Captive for over 400 years, generation after generation born into bondage, silence, and waiting. And yet, God had not forgotten them. He was simply preparing the moment when deliverance would be unmistakably divine. Just when it seemed like nothing would change, God released help out of nowhere—a baby in a basket, raised in Pharaoh’s house, carrying heaven’s assignment. Moses arrived like an unexpected player drop into the game.

That’s how God moves. Right when the pressure peaks, when hope seems expired, He introduces assistance you never saw coming. In Roblox, you can be stuck on a level for what feels like forever—jumping, falling, restarting—until suddenly you discover a hidden path, a new tool, or an unexpected guide. In real life, God does the same thing. He sends wisdom. He sends strategy. He sends revelation.

Moses didn’t remove the Red Sea. God didn’t teleport the people around it. He led them straight to it. Sometimes God deliberately redirects you toward what looks like a dead end, not to trap you, but to reveal Himself. The Red Sea wasn’t an obstacle; it was an opportunity for God to show power in a way they would never forget.

King David captured this truth when he said, “By You I have run through a troop; by my God I have leaped over a wall.” David understood that certain victories are not achieved by strength alone but by divine empowerment. Many of us today are staring at walls we don’t think we can climb—student loan debt, career ceilings, broken systems, generational trauma, financial strain, political uncertainty. The troops feel too many. The terrain feels impossible.

But God.

God is not intimidated by complexity. He is not threatened by systems. He is not confused by culture. What He is releasing in this season is wisdom. Not just answers—but the ability to ask the right questions.

Sometimes the breakthrough doesn’t come from pushing harder; it comes from asking differently. What if the solution isn’t in fighting the system, but in understanding it? What if God is training you to discern patterns, recognize timing, and move strategically rather than emotionally? In games, the players who advance are not always the strongest—they’re the ones who learn the rules, observe the environment, and adjust their approach.

God is doing that with us now.

This is not the season to panic. This is the season to listen. This is the season to let God lead you, even when the path doesn’t make sense. He led Israel by cloud and fire—not explanation. He didn’t give them the full map; He gave them His presence.

And that is enough.

God is ready to reveal His power in the middle of every roadblock you face. If He brought you into this season, He already built the strategy to get you through it. Trust Him. Follow Him. Ask the right questions.

The game is not over, until we win.

Tell Your Heart to Beat Again

Sometimes people can go through the most intense surgery—open-heart surgery. The process is delicate, intentional, and life-saving. The surgeon must first open the chest cavity, carefully exposing the heart. They stop the heart from beating, placing the patient on a bypass machine to keep oxygen flowing through the body while the heart is repaired. Every blockage, every damaged valve, every lifeless area is attended to with precision. And when the surgeon’s work is complete, there comes a sacred moment—where the heart and your mind must connect and you must tell your heart to beat again.

In the story of Daney Gokey, he tells the story of a patient after gone through the surgery, her heart did not start beating automatically. He says, the surgeon got down on his knees like Jesus is doing now for us. He gently leans over and says, “Tell your heart to beat again.” Slowly, the heart begins to pulse. Life returns, rhythm resumes, and the healing process begins.

Spiritually, many of us are right there on the operating table. Christ, the Great Physician, has us under His divine care. Some of us have already gone through the incision—He’s opened up the deep places of our hearts. Others are still in recovery, tender and sore from what He’s had to remove. But no matter where you are in the process, God is saying to you today, “Tell your heart to beat again.”

My heart has taken severe blows of disappointment and despair—enough to shut me down completely if I didn’t know how much God loves me. The Word says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick” (Proverbs 13:12). When hope feels delayed, our hearts can grow weary, wounded, or even numb. That’s why the Bible reminds us to guard our hearts, because out of it flow the issues of life.

Some of us have spiritual blockages—unforgiveness, bitterness, or disappointment that have stopped the blood flow of God’s love. But the Holy Spirit is ready to perform surgery, removing what’s been clogging your ability to receive His kindness and extend it to others. Let Him heal the trauma—the blunt force wounds caused by rejection, betrayal, or grief.

Jesus is still praying for you, just as He prayed for Peter: “I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail.” Don’t let your faith fail. Let Him lay His hands on your heart again. Allow His blood to flow freely—cleansing, forgiving, restoring.

When Mary and Martha’s brother Lazarus died, Jesus didn’t rush to the scene. He waited. To the human eye, it seemed too late. But Jesus knew—resurrection power works even in delay. When Martha confronted Him, she spoke of faith for the future: “I know he will rise again in the resurrection.” But Mary—Mary fell at His feet in worship, weeping. That’s where healing begins—in the posture of surrender.

Maybe your dream died.

Maybe the one you loved and planned forever with was taken too soon, like Danny Gokey’s story.

Maybe the degree you started but never finished buried your confidence and your purpose.

You’ve been surviving, but you haven’t fully recovered.

But I came to remind you—He is the Resurrection. Even now, Christ is able to raise that dead dream back to life. He’s able to restore your faith, repair your heart, and cause you to breathe again.

Let His love start the rhythm.

Let His mercy be your oxygen.

Let His grace be your heartbeat.

Tell your heart to beat again. 💗

🎵 Listen: “Tell Your Heart to Beat Again” – Danny Gokey

Take off Saul's Armor: To thy own self be true

“Walk in What’s Been Proven”

I heard the Father say:

Some have stepped into marriages, ministries, friendships, and assignments wearing Saul’s armor. But hear this clearly — you cannot defeat Goliath with another man’s weapons. You cannot walk in victory wearing what was never tested in your hands.

David tried on Saul’s armor, but it didn’t fit. It wasn’t proven. It wasn’t his assignment or his anointing. And many, without even recognizing it, have allowed people — voices, opinions, expectations — to dress us in things that never belonged to us.

And the Lord is saying today:

Be careful who clothes you. Be careful who counsels you.

Some of the “armor” you’re carrying came from ungodly counsel, from scornful voices, from people walking in their own rebellion and not in God’s righteousness.

The Word reminds us:

“Blessed is the one who does not walk in the counsel of the ungodly,

nor stand in the way of sinners,

nor sit in the seat of the scornful.” — Psalm 1:1

Some of you put on Saul’s armor because you listened to the wrong voices.

You allowed others to talk you out of what you knew was true.

You sat under people who were scornful, wounded, jealous, or spiritually immature — and their words became your armor.

But God is calling you back to the place of His counsel.

Back to what He trained you in.

Back to the weapons He placed in your hands.

Your stones.

Your history with God.

Your testimony.

Your obedience.

Your authenticity.

“David said to Saul, ‘I cannot walk with these, for I have not tested them.’ So David took them off.” — 1 Samuel 17:39

Your next level, your next battle, your next assignment — will only be won with authenticity. Not imitation. Not pressure. Not comparison. Not with a split heart. Authenticity is your weapon.

To thine own self be true.

God does not choose based on outward appearance. David’s own father didn’t even count him worthy enough to invite into the room. He didn’t have the résumé. He didn’t look the part. He didn’t fit the preferences. Yet he was hand-picked and chosen by God for the assignment.

Even the prophet Samuel — whose words never fell to the ground — almost missed it by looking at the outward appearance. And the same is true today: many people miss their God-ordained spouse, ministry, business deal, or opportunity because it didn’t fit their preference, their expectation, their reasoning, or their idea of what the blessing should look like.

But the oil refused to flow on any of David’s brothers.

He was the one.

And they said, “Not one will sit until David arrives.”

In this season, God has gathered the room. The crowd is standing at attention. The stage is set — and they cannot sit down until you arrive. There is a prepared people waiting for you to take your rightful place.

When David stepped up to fight Goliath, he didn’t come boasting about being anointed king. Instead, he talked about the lion and the bear — the battles God trained him to win in secret. His authority came from private victory, not public title.

David didn’t win because he had the outward qualifications or the “right” armor.

He won because his weapon was God, and the revelation he carried of Him.

That revelation manifested in a simple stone — and with one throw, David defeated Goliath and even used the giant’s own sword to finish the job.

David remained true to who he was — and just as important, who he was not.

And so must you.

It’s time to take off Saul’s armor.

Break agreement with every voice that didn’t come from God.

Walk in what’s been proven.

Your stones are enough. Your authenticity is enough. Your God is more than enough.

Objects in mirror are closer than they appear

Why We Can’t Move Forward Driving While Looking Backward

In life, as in driving, the rearview mirror serves a purpose: it provides perspective on what’s behind us. It helps us learn from where we’ve been, but it’s not the lens through which we navigate our future. Imagine trying to drive while staring only at the rearview mirror—you’d inevitably crash. This analogy resonates deeply with life and relationships, especially when it comes to letting go of the past to embrace a brighter future.

The warning on side mirrors, “Objects in mirror are closer than they appear,” is profound when applied to life. It reminds us that some experiences, relationships, or failures may feel closer or more significant than they really are. In reality, they are behind us, and their proximity is often an illusion fueled by lingering emotions, guilt, or unresolved feelings.

Letting Go of Relationships That No Longer Serve Us

Relationships, like vehicles, are meant to carry us forward. However, some relationships become stagnant, toxic, or simply part of a season that has ended. Holding onto them is like clinging to a parked car while traffic rushes by. Looking backward to analyze what went wrong or to relive the good times can trap us in a cycle of nostalgia or regret, preventing us from focusing on the road ahead.

When we continually revisit past relationships, we risk mistaking proximity for significance. The truth is those experiences—no matter how meaningful at the time—belong in our history. By letting go, we free ourselves to focus on the present and make space for the people and opportunities God has aligned for our future.

Navigating Life with a Forward-Focused Mindset

1. The Windshield is Bigger for a Reason
   The windshield offers a wide, clear view of what’s ahead, symbolizing the importance of focusing on our future. The rearview mirror is small, serving only as a reference point, not a primary focus. In life, we are called to be forward-focused, trusting that what’s ahead is far greater than what’s behind.

2. “Just Keep Driving”
   Life throws challenges at us—loss, heartbreak, or even missed opportunities. It’s easy to get stuck revisiting these moments, replaying them like scenes in a movie. But as Dory from Finding Nemo says, “Just keep swimming.” Or in this case, just keep driving. Moving forward requires momentum, even if it feels slow at first.

3. The Illusion of the Past
   When we look back too often, our minds have a way of distorting reality. We either romanticize the past, forgetting its flaws, or we amplify its pain, making it seem more overwhelming than it truly was. This is why the rearview mirror’s warning is so relevant—what’s behind you is further away than it feels.

4. Faith in What’s Ahead
   Driving forward requires trust—not just in yourself, but also in the journey. Much like faith, you can’t always see what lies around the bend, but you move forward with the belief that the road continues, and that God is guiding your steps.

Practical Steps to Be Future-Focused

• Acknowledge the Past: Take a moment to reflect on what you’ve learned, but don’t linger. Healing comes from understanding, not reliving.

• Set Your Life’s GPS: Define your goals and values. Knowing your destination keeps you focused on where you’re headed, not where you’ve been.

• Let Go of Extra Baggage: Like removing unnecessary weight from a car, release the people, habits, or mindsets that no longer align with your journey.

• Celebrate Small Wins: Every mile forward is progress. Appreciate the small victories that remind you you’re moving closer to your purpose.

• Stay Present: While the future is your focus, don’t miss the beauty of the present moment. Each step forward is part of the journey.

The Rearview Mirror’s Role

The rearview mirror isn’t useless—it reminds us of how far we’ve come and provides context for the road ahead. But to move forward, we must shift our focus to the expansive windshield before us. Life is meant to be lived forward, with faith, hope, and trust in the process.

Letting go of the past—whether relationships, mistakes, or disappointments—isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. The freedom that comes from releasing what’s behind allows us to fully embrace what’s ahead. So, adjust your mirrors, glance back when needed, but always keep your eyes on the road ahead.

Life’s journey is waiting for you—drive forward with purpose and courage as you enter this New Year.

Mary’s Salutation

Redefining What It Means to Be Highly Favored

When the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, he didn’t greet her the way we greet one another today. He didn’t say, “Congratulations on your new platform.” He didn’t applaud her followers, her status, or her bank account. Heaven’s messenger looked at a teenage girl from an overlooked town and said words that sound nothing like the way we measure favor today:

“Greetings, you who are highly favored. The Lord is with you.”

That was it. No fanfare. No announcement on social media. No shiny evidence. Just a divine salutation from God that rested on a girl whose life was about to change in ways she never asked for.

Yet today, many describe a “God wink” or divine favor by pointing to opportunities, invitations, platforms, deals, and applause. We measure favor by access—by how many rooms we enter, who knows our name, and what doors swing open. But Mary’s life reminds us that God’s definition of “highly favored” rarely looks like the one we’ve built in our modern world.

This is what a God wink looks like: Mary’s favor sent her into hiding—not into the spotlight or the best film of the year. Her favor pulled her away from the crowd, not toward it. Heaven’s applause sounded like a whisper in a quiet room, not the roar of people celebrating her.

Mary was highly favored… and immediately misunderstood.

Highly favored… and immediately inconvenienced.

Highly favored… and immediately placed in a situation that could have cost her reputation, her relationships, and even her life.

Favor didn’t take her up—it took her in, deep into the heart of God’s plan, far away from the applause of people and into the quiet obedience of purpose.

Mary Shows Us That Favor Is Not Flashy—It’s Weighty

Mary didn’t ask to be chosen. She didn’t pray for visibility or influence. She wasn’t campaigning for recognition. She was simply living a quiet, faithful life when heaven interrupted her routine with a divine assignment.

And what was the first result of that assignment?

It wasn’t ease—it was pressure.

It wasn’t public elevation—it was private stretching.

It wasn’t affirmation—it was questions, whispers, and side-eyes.

Being highly favored meant she had to carry something no one around her understood. It meant walking through seasons where God’s promise made her look out of place, out of order, and out of her mind. It meant bearing the weight of a calling before the world ever saw the glory of it.

Highly Favored Today Is Often About Applause, Not Assignment

Today, being “favored” is often defined by:

• rising numbers

• open doors

• new opportunities

• increased visibility

• financial breakthroughs

• people clapping and co-signing

But Mary teaches us something different: favor is not measured by the crowd around you but by the presence of God within you.

Her favor didn’t place her in palaces.

It placed her on a donkey, traveling while uncomfortable.

It placed her in a stable, giving birth in conditions that didn’t match the promise.

It placed her at a cross, watching the Son she carried take His last breath.

Highly favored looked like a journey filled with obedience, surrender, and courage—not glamor, applause, or convenience.

Favor Doesn’t Always Elevate You—Sometimes It Breaks You Before It Builds You

Mary carried Jesus, but Jesus also carried her. Favor stretched her faith, expanded her endurance, and brought her into alignment with heaven’s agenda. And that is what true favor still does for us.

Sometimes God’s favor leads you into hidden seasons where no one is clapping.

Sometimes it calls you to carry something heavy.

Sometimes it requires you to say yes when you feel unprepared or unnoticed.

Sometimes it strips you of the applause so you can hear the whisper of God.

Mary’s story reminds us that the greatest favor is not entrance into important rooms—it is intimacy with God, partnership with His purpose, and the privilege of being chosen for what He wants to birth in the earth.

Favor Is Not Proof of Status—It Is Proof of Assignment

You are favored not because people see you, but because God trusts you.

You are favored not because doors open, but because your heart is open.

You are favored not because life is perfect, but because God is present.

Mary was highly favored, not because she had everything—but because she surrendered everything.

And maybe that’s the invitation for us today: to redefine favor not by the shine of our success, but by the depth of our surrender… just like Mary.

Did God really say?

Those four words shifted the entire course of humanity and it still is today. In the original construct of the Garden of Eden, only love existed. There was no fear, no evil, no deception, no competing voices—only fellowship, purity, and divine order. So when the serpent approached Eve, he didn’t sound like an enemy. He didn’t show up hissing, threatening, or announcing himself as a destroyer. He simply came close enough to make her question what God had already spoken with clarity.

And isn’t that how it often happens in our own lives? The serpents that slip into our gardens rarely look dangerous. They don’t always come wrapped in rebellion or chaos. Sometimes they come in the form of a friend… a suggestion… an opinion… a “harmless” conversation. The serpent’s voice in our lives doesn’t always hiss—it often whispers.

He was close enough to distort the voice of God. Close enough to make Eve second-guess what she knew. Close enough to persuade her into disobedience.

Can you recognize the serpents in your garden—the ones that make you question what God has already said?

The ones that nudge you toward compromise?

The ones that subtly plant doubt in the soil of your spirit?

God gives us instructions, revelations, warnings, and boundaries. But sometimes, because we honor the opinions of others more than the voice of God, we find ourselves like Eve—deceived. And like Adam—blatantly disobedient.

God wants His children to be led by His Spirit. Jesus said, “My sheep know my voice, and a stranger they will not follow.” Obedience is a hallmark of kingdom identity. The true sons and daughters of God are not just gifted—they are guided. They move by instruction. They respond to His whisper. They don’t negotiate with serpents.

Adam and Eve didn’t know everything. God intentionally hid evil from them. He didn’t give them parents, but He did give them restrictions. He gave them boundaries—not to punish them, but to protect them. The loving Father withheld knowledge that would destroy them, and He gave them commandments that would preserve them.

We all have boundaries too. Every believer has a tree in the middle of their garden—something God says, “touch it not.” Not because He’s withholding pleasure, but because He understands the cost of our disobedience. He knows what happens the moment we cross the line. He knows the weight we cannot see.

God was clear. There was no confusion until the serpent asked, “Did God really say?”

That is always the strategy of the enemy: to distort, to twist, to question.

The moment Eve listened to the serpent, clarity became confusion. The moment Adam obeyed the voice of his wife over the voice of God, alignment became rebellion. Their one act shifted the world in an instant.

Yet even in their disobedience, God made provision. Scripture says, “By one man’s disobedience many were made sinners.” But it doesn’t end there. Before Adam ever fell, Jesus was already prepared as “the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world.” Redemption was written into the blueprint before sin ever entered the garden. The Father already had a plan. He always does.

And He is still doing the same today—offering us the choice to obey, to return, to listen, to follow His voice above every other.

We must know His voice. We must silence the serpents. Let us learn from them and never allow the question—“Did God really say?”—to lead us into the kind of disobedience that alters destinies.

Match Boxes

Some of you may be wondering—what are match boxes? I know, I’m dating myself, but it’s okay. I remember a time before lighters became popular, when everyone carried around a little match box. It was small, simple, and powerful—just a flick, and you could start a fire anywhere.

But long before physical match boxes existed, God used people as spiritual ones—designed not to destroy, but to ignite. Some people are sent into your life to expose what’s really in your heart. Just like Cain and Abel, or Peninnah and Hannah.

Today, I want to talk about Peninnah—Hannah’s “match box.”

Peninnah was one of two wives. She had what Hannah didn’t—children. But the Bible says something interesting: although Hannah was barren, her husband Elkanah loved her deeply. He said to her in 1 Samuel 1:8, “Am I not better to you than ten sons?” What an oxymoron in a culture that celebrated women based on their ability to bear children—especially sons.

But Elkanah didn’t love Hannah because of what she could produce. He loved her for who she was. He didn’t hold her barrenness against her. That’s a different kind of love—one that doesn’t demand performance.

Hannah wasn’t like Rachel, who provoked Jacob to anger and said, “Give me children or I’ll die!” No. Hannah’s breaking didn’t make her bitter—it made her broken before God. And Peninnah? She was her match box.

Peninnah constantly reminded Hannah of what she lacked. The Bible says she provoked her sorely just to make her fret. Sometimes, the enemy will use people, circumstances, or even time to mock you—reminding you of what you don’t have, what hasn’t happened yet, or what should have come by now.

But the very thing the enemy uses to irritate you is often what God uses to ignite you.

Peninnah’s taunting became Hannah’s turning point. The fire of pain became the fire of prayer. What was meant to wound her became what pushed her to the altar. The enemy used Peninnah to provoke her, but God used it to produce purpose.

There’s a kind of fire that doesn’t burn you—it purifies you.

Maybe your “Peninnah” is a situation, a person, or even a disappointment. Maybe you’ve watched others birth their dreams while you’ve been waiting year after year for your own. But hear me—God hasn’t forgotten. Just like Hannah, He’s allowing that holy irritation to push you to cry out again, to believe again, and to place that desire back on His altar. Don’t let their mockery kill your desire, let it fan your flames on your altar to God.

You may feel barren in an area—naturally or spiritually—but God’s not done. The same God who opened Hannah’s womb is about to open yours. Her pain birthed a prophet. Her tears birthed Samuel—the one who would anoint kings.

You see, sometimes your match box isn’t your enemy—it’s your awakening.

God will let Peninnah talk. He’ll let the fire burn. Because He knows when the time is right, your prayer will touch heaven in a way it never has before.

Hannah didn’t fight Peninnah; she went to the temple. She didn’t retaliate; she released. And the Lord remembered her.

That’s what God is doing for you. He’s remembering the cries you’ve prayed in private. He’s seen the years of waiting and the nights of weeping. And now, that holy fire inside you is about to produce something the world has never seen.

So, thank God for the match boxes in your life. They didn’t come to destroy you—they came to ignite you.

Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow

When the Snow Reminds You God Still Keeps His Word

Chicago has already recorded 17.1 inches of snow this season, making it the snowiest start to winter by Dec. 7 since 1978, when more than 24 inches had fallen by this point.

I will never forget that winter.

I was five and a half years old—tiny, light, and barely strong enough to hold myself up in the world, let alone a loaf of bread in a snowstorm. My mother’s favorite grocery store was Hillman’s on 95th and Jeffrey on the South Side of Chicago. That was our spot. And when my mother said we were going to the store, there was no arguing. Snow or not, we walked.

Looking back, it had to be about a 10–15 minute walk in normal weather. But that day? With mounds of snow nearly up to my waist and winds that felt like they wanted to snatch the breath from my little chest, it felt like hours. At 5½ years old, I was tiny—not even three feet tall yet—and lightweight. Today, as a full-grown adult who has never weighed more than 125 pounds, I can only imagine how feather-light I must’ve been then. Every step felt like my legs were heavier than the bread I carried. That loaf felt like the weight of the world in my mittened hands.

My mother walked ahead of me, steady and intentional. I remember feeling the distance between us—not just in steps but in presence. She was close enough to see yet far enough for me to feel alone. I kept lifting one leg after the other through snow that seemed determined to swallow me whole. I didn’t think I would make it. The cold bit my skin. My cheeks burned. My legs throbbed. But I kept going, because she kept walking.

I am Chicago born and raised. Those streets shaped me in ways I am still understanding. Though I’ve lived in Houston for four years now, Chicago will always be home. On my last few visits, I didn’t get any snow. I prayed for snow this year—not just to see it, but to feel it again, the nostalgia, the beauty, the childhood memory. And not only did the snow come…it arrived before I did.

It’s funny how the same snow that once intimidated me—snow that I truly believed might kill me—has become something I long to touch, laugh in, and run through again. Almost 48½ years later, I prayed for what once almost broke me.

When I read that post on 12/7/25, God whispered to me about that moment. As this year closes, I can look back over my life and see seasons where the weight I carried felt just like that bread—too heavy for me, too much for me, and far more than my little legs could handle. Times when I felt alone even though someone was just ahead of me. Times when I questioned if I would make it.

And yet—I’m still here.

Sometimes our promises feel the same way: out of reach, too far ahead, too heavy to carry. Sometimes the seasons we walk through feel like we are frozen and designed to destroy us. But God has a way of taking what once overwhelmed us and turning it into a place of reflection. A place of gratitude. A place of testimony.

The snow that once felt cruel and cold now reminds me of resilience, growth, and perspective. It reminds me I didn’t die in that season. It reminds me I made it. And it reminds me that God keeps His word just like He keeps His weather patterns—faithful, intentional, and right on time.

“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven

and do not return there but water the earth…

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

it shall not return to me void.” — Isaiah 55:10–11

I look forward to stepping back into that snow—not as the frightened child who thought she wouldn’t make it, but as the grown woman who knows she did.

And with the same God that was with me then.

The garden within her heart

The Deborah Mantle and the Weapon God Designed

There’s a reason God placed Adam in a garden before He placed Eve in his arms. The garden was more than scenery; it was Adam’s first assignment—his training ground. In Eden, Adam learned to steward, cultivate, protect, and value what God entrusted to him. Every seed he planted, every boundary he maintained, and every part he tended taught him something about responsibility. These weren’t simply lessons in agriculture. They were lessons about the heart.

Just as a seed in the soil produces life, the seed in a man produces a child. And just as a garden requires nurturing, covering, and protection, the heart of a woman requires the same. Adam’s stewardship of the garden was prophetic. It was preparation for the day God would present Eve—the one whose heart, calling, emotions, and spiritual womb would require cultivation.

This matters deeply, because there is a harvest of love God is cultivating in the heart of every bride-to-be as He prepares her to become a wife. It is a love personally planted, watered, and tended by the Father Himself. Just as He formed Eve to multiply Adam’s seed, God prepares a woman’s heart long before she is ever found.

But many men today are eating from the wrong gardens—seeking validation, entertainment, attention, and intimacy from places never assigned to them. Their appetites have been shaped by forbidden soil, leaving them distracted, unfocused, and unable to recognize the garden God has placed within the woman He set apart for them to cultivate.

If Adam could awake from a divine surgery and instantly recognize Eve—not by sight, but by revelation—then surely today’s men should pause and reconsider how they are choosing. Adam didn’t study Eve. He didn’t audition her. He didn’t compare her. He knew her because God revealed her.

When God grows the garden within a woman, the love she carries is not manufactured by human effort. It is heaven-grown, sacred, and divinely produced. She becomes a wife long before she is found. She carries a love that is consecrated for one man, not common to all.

She is a garden prepared.
She is a harvest ready.
She is a wife—not because she has a ring, but because God has already tilled the soil of her heart.

This revelation connects with the Deborah mantle—a prophetic identity many women carry without recognizing it. Prophet Tomi Arayomi once described a woman as a Weapon of Mass Destruction, a force designed to carry, nurture, protect, and release life into the earth. When God declared enmity between the serpent and the woman in Genesis 3:15, He wasn’t punishing her. He was equipping her. He placed in her a holy hostility toward the enemy, so she would never again entertain what seeks to destroy her and her seed.

But here is the danger: when a woman’s heart goes uncultivated, uncovered, or neglected, her God-given enmity can turn inward. Instead of resisting the enemy, she may begin to resist her husband, or herself. A garden ignored becomes overgrown. And a heart unprotected becomes vulnerable to bitterness, anger, shame, or hopelessness.

I learned this painfully in my previous marriage. When my husband emotionally withdrew, stopped communicating, stayed out late, and entertained infidelity, something inside me shifted. The divine enmity that God placed within me began to turn toward him—and toward myself. What I didn’t understand back then was that the enemy wasn’t just attacking my marriage; he was after my identity. After my calling. After my garden.

A prophetic word once spoken over me became a lifeline: “If you don’t give God your whole heart, you will become a dangerous woman.” I felt myself slipping into that danger—becoming hardened, numb, defensive, and spiritually exhausted. But God intervened. He healed the abandoned little girl within me, the woman carrying years of silent wounds and generational grief. He redirected my enmity back to its proper target: the kingdom of darkness.

This is the Deborah mantle. Deborah rose not because she was loud, forceful, or dominant—but because she was a mother. Her authority came from nurture, wisdom, and spiritual clarity. She protected the heart of a nation the way Adam was called to protect the heart of Eve.

Guard your garden. Protect your heart. Aim your enmity at the right enemy. And arise—like Deborah—to defend the generations within you.

When God Brings It Full Circle

When God Brings It Full Circle: A Story of Triumph, Vindication, and Obedience

Full circle.

This moment right here is what full circle truly feels like—when God leads you back into the very places that once wounded you, not to reopen the pain but to reveal the victory. When He whispers, “I never forgot. I was working the whole time.”

Lately, God has been reminding me of past victories—times when I felt unheard, unseen, dismissed, or mishandled. Moments where people thought their decisions were final, but Heaven had already issued its verdict and stamped VINDICATED across my name. God knows our ending before our beginning, and He knows how to bring every story into divine completion.

I remember the year 2000 as if it were yesterday. I had spent months trying to correct what was out of order under my supervision—following every union guideline, documenting every detail, walking in integrity. But insubordination was constant, attendance issues were never-ending, and the director who should have supported me became part of the problem.

There comes a moment when protecting your integrity is the only way forward.

So I submitted my resignation letter.

The moment I handed it to her, everything shifted. Suddenly, she and the assistant director appeared at my desk every day—begging me to stay, pleading with me to retract the letter, spending hours trying to persuade me. Their desperation revealed what they never acknowledged: they knew the dysfunction, and they knew my departure would expose it.

In the middle of their pressure, God spoke so clearly it drowned out every voice around me:

“Do not take it back.”

He told me that withdrawing it would strip the truth and integrity from everything I had written. So I stood firm.

Then God gave me another instruction that made absolutely no sense:

“Take your resignation to Human Resources.”

I had no intention of returning to that job. None. Yet I obeyed. HR received it with honor and said, “If you ever want to return, you can. Your integrity precedes you.” Still, I privately said, I’m never coming back.

Six weeks later, my then-husband told me to file for unemployment. I didn’t want to. I didn’t understand it. But out of obedience, I applied.

And not only did I win—

All I submitted was my resignation letter.

God defended me before I even realized I needed defending.

Because when God seals your vindication, no one can reverse it.

Then came nine years.

Nine years where hospital doors remained closed.

Nine years of wondering why God made me submit that resignation letter to HR.

Then, God did what only God can do.

A new director-level position was created—equal in authority to hers—and she had no influence over it. God opened the door supernaturally. I even interviewed for it and was offered the position.

But fear whispered louder than faith.

I was intimidated.

I didn’t feel qualified.

So I turned it down and took another job.

I worked that job for 15 months… until God spoke again:

“Call them back.”

When I did, I didn’t even have to interview again.

Right before I called them back, the entire organization had gone through a major layoff, and all new positions were supposed to be eliminated first—

but this position was spared.

Preserved. Protected. Held open by God’s hand.

So I stepped into it.

Then in 2010—ten years after my resignation—PricewaterhouseCoopers and MedAssets performed a system-wide audit. The new system director, the same woman who originally hired my former director, saw every buried issue.

And God brought it FULL CIRCLE.

The same director who once fought me now had only 15 months until retirement. She sent for me. I came graciously. She begged me to intercede for her job—the same way she once begged me to stay.

But Heaven had already spoken.

She was let go.

She had to relocate out of state.

It took her over ten years to recover what obedience could have preserved.

Her disobedience cost her.

My obedience elevated me.

God is the Righteous Judge.

You don’t have to fight for your name.

You don’t have to defend yourself.

You don’t have to prove anything.

God sees.

God hears.

God responds.

And when He brings it full circle…

the vindication is undeniable.

He will rewrite every wrong.

Let Him make it right.

“When God Closes the Wound: The Power of Mercy and Truth.”

Closure: The Reward of Understanding

So many today are tormented and on edge because they’ve never received closure. I’ve seen it tear people apart—marriages, friendships, ministries. Some have spiraled into depression, witchcraft, manipulation, and even cyberattacks—trying to control or destroy what they couldn’t understand. Others have tried to ruin reputations and relationships because they couldn’t make peace with the end of a chapter. But closure isn’t always something man can give. Sometimes, only God can close a thing the right way.

God gave us a picture of closure in the Garden. When He removed Eve from Adam, Scripture says, “And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman…and he closed up the flesh instead thereof” (Genesis 2:21). God didn’t leave Adam open. He closed him up. That’s what real closure looks like—when God Himself heals the wound and seals what was opened.

One of the greatest causes of heartbreak is misunderstanding. Proverbs 3:19 says, “The Lord by wisdom founded the earth; by understanding He established the heavens.” Understanding establishes things. When I was walking through the brokenness of my previous marriage, I asked God for that—understanding. I didn’t just need to be right; I needed to be healed.

In that season, God gave me two weapons: mercy and truth. Proverbs 3:3–4 says, “Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: bind them about thy neck; write them upon the table of thine heart: so shalt thou find favor and good understanding in the sight of God and man.”

Mercy became my plow—it softened the hard places in my heart. Truth became my ornament—it kept me anchored in what was real, even when emotions tried to deceive me. Proverbs 16:6 says, “By mercy and truth iniquity is purged: and by the fear of the Lord men depart from evil.” These two weapons became the keys to my deliverance.

But the more I prayed, the worse things got. I didn’t realize then that I had been promoted into generational warfare. Like in every video game, each new level comes with stronger opposition. New levels truly bring new devils. The Lord began to show me that I wasn’t just fighting for my marriage—I was fighting for my bloodline.

The enemy always challenges what God ordains because he wants to continue the pattern of brokenness. Scripture says the iniquity of the fathers visits to the third and fourth generation. When God raises up a deliverer to break the cycle, hell studies your weaknesses. Your weakness is an indicator of your Goliath—but it’s also proof of your assignment. The enemy wants to label you a failure, but God wants to make you a living example of what He can do through one surrendered life.

So if you feel abandoned, overlooked, rejected, or used—if you’ve given your all to someone or something and you’re standing at the edge ready to give up—this word is for you. I know that edge. I’ve stood there before, ready to quit. But I also know the voice of God that pulled me back and reminded me that I am never without help, never without purpose, and never without weapons.

Today, God wants to give you closure, favor, and good understanding. But you must first pick up your weapons—mercy and truth. They don’t just protect your heart; they rebuild your life. When man can’t or doesn’t believe you deserve closure, God will. Just as He closed up Adam’s flesh, He will close your wounds. He will seal what was once bleeding and give you peace that passes all understanding.

When God initiates a season, a relationship, a lesson, or a transformation, He will give the clarity, conclusion, and closure necessary to move forward.

Confusion comes from people.

Closure comes from God.

Love’s Miranda Rights

Love has a way of arresting us when we least expect it. One moment, you’re living freely—unbothered, moving through life on your own terms—and the next, someone walks in and quietly reads you your rights without ever opening their mouth.

You feel it in your heart before you ever hear it in your ears. It’s that unspoken declaration: You’ve just been served.

But this service isn’t illegal—it’s spiritual. It’s emotional. It’s divine. It’s that moment your soul recognizes its match and realizes something holy just happened. You’re no longer a free agent. You’ve been caught—hooked, booked, and bound—not by force, but by the magnetic pull of destiny.

This kind of love doesn’t knock politely; it breaks through the door of your comfort zone. It protests your independence, starts fires, and demands your full attention. It reminds you that passion, when divine, doesn’t play by the world’s rules. It ignites and consumes, and somehow in the burning—it purifies.

When love arrests you, you’re no longer in control. You find yourself on emotional trial—your heart testifying against your mind. Every look, every word, every tear becomes evidence. You’re charged with feeling too deeply, caring too much, trusting too soon. And yet, in this court of love, guilt is the sweetest verdict imaginable.

Because to be guilty of love is to be Christ-like—the One who accepted a death sentence just to prove His love.

In this sacred interrogation, you’re invited to speak—but not everything needs words. Sometimes silence testifies louder than speech. The right to remain quiet becomes a whisper heard miles apart but felt in the soul. It’s the unspoken language that says, “I see you. I feel you. I know.”

When two hearts are aligned, love becomes both sentence and freedom. You’re confined to each other’s hearts but liberated in each other’s world. Solitary confinement turns into sacred union. You stop craving escape because you realize the walls surrounding you are made of devotion.

You’re no longer running. You’ve been captured—raptured—by something beyond understanding. You’ve been found guilty of desire, sentenced to forever, and charged with the crime of stealing someone’s heart only to discover yours in return.

Love, at its core, is divine law. It asks for truth, commands honesty, and demands vulnerability. It strips away ego until only the soul stands exposed. It’s raw and real—grace wrapped in imperfection—but never without purpose.

So when you’re served, remember:

You have the right to remain silent—but you’ll never be the same again.

You have the right to counsel—but none can defend you from love’s arrest.

And once convicted, you’ll find yourself willingly serving a life sentence that feels like freedom.

Because in this divine courtroom, mercy is the judge, truth is the gavel, and the final verdict is always love.

A Kingdom response to culture singleness

I recently came across a post that sounded emotionally intelligent and deeply reflective. It said men today are choosing singleness not out of immaturity or fear, but out of self-awareness and healing. It claimed that healed men aren’t avoiding love — they’re avoiding losing themselves again. That they’re not scared of commitment but unwilling to sign up for “forever” without peace, respect, and shared purpose. His conclusion? When a man delays marriage, it’s not fear; it’s focus.

At face value, that sounds balanced, wise, and emotionally healthy. But when you look deeper, it’s not rooted in biblical theology — it’s cultural psychology dressed in spiritual language.

Here’s the problem: this framework makes man the source of his own completeness. Yet in Genesis, it wasn’t Adam who decided he needed companionship — it was God. “It is not good for man to be alone.” Adam didn’t ask God for Eve. He didn’t say, “Lord, I feel lonely.” He was fully occupied naming the animals, walking with God in the cool of the day, and living healed and whole. Still, God looked at that wholeness and said, “Not good.”

Then God did something profound. He put Adam into a deep sleep — a divine coma — and performed the first surgery in human history. He opened Adam’s side, removed a rib, and formed Eve. God took her out of him. That means before Eve ever stood beside Adam, she already existed within him.

Why does Scripture mention that God “closed up his flesh”? Because closure matters. God sealed Adam’s wound so he couldn’t go searching for what was already finished. God wanted Adam to know she came from Him — not from Adam’s imagination, not from his loneliness, and not from his personal preference. And when Adam woke up, he didn’t need confirmation from a prophet or a post. Revelation recognized revelation. He said, “This is now bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.”

He didn’t question her source because he knew it. God presented her to him — the same way He still presents divine unions today.

I know this intimately. God sent me. I presented myself. I was patient. I carried the kind of love described in 1 Corinthians 13 — patient, kind, not envious, not boastful or proud. I didn’t dishonor. I wasn’t self-seeking. I kept no record of wrongs. I protected, trusted, hoped, and persevered. I believed love would never fail.

You promised to make room and choose me this year. I waited through every season, believing in divine timing, thinking our separate journeys were preparing us to finally walk together. But one day, without warning, you got engaged.

As I slowly began to accept the truth, one morning I woke as usual, it felt ordinary, but heaven had an appointment with me. As I prayed, I kept hearing, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

And then — God met me like He met Moses. As I wept, He began to remind me how He took Moses back to the beginning and revealed Genesis by revealing his hind parts. He hid me in the cleft of the rock and let His goodness pass before me. In that moment, He settled the issue in my heart and what was already settled in heaven. What I always knew from the beginning of our journey. I didn’t need another comment, another picture, another song, or another letter. God Himself became the closure. He was the one that presented me and prepared me.

He dried my tears, erased my fears, filled every void, quieted my spirit and sealed my heart with His eternal love — the love we shared before time began.

I understand: nothing can separate me from the love of God. The mystery of you was always Him in you. I wasn’t just waiting to be somebody’s “you.” I was already chosen and eternally loved.

#KingdomLove #BiblicalMarriage #DivineTiming #AdamAndEveRevelation #PurposefulLove #HealingWithGod #FaithOverFeelings #WhenGodWritesTheStory #LoveNeverFails #RestoredHeart #WholenessInChrist

Navigating Ships: Managing Expectations in Life and Faith

We all come into life with expectations—dreams, hopes, and silent longings passed down from generations. But somewhere along the way, our expectations become tied to people, positions, and performance. We build our ships—relationships, partnerships, situationships, and friendships—hoping they will carry us safely to destiny. Yet every ship we build must be navigated, and every captain must be chosen.

The truth is, many of us have been navigating our ships with Jesus on board, but not at the helm. We love His presence, but we often question His power when the storm starts rocking what we built. Like the disciples in Luke 8, we invited Him into our boat, but when the waves began to rise and the winds started howling, we panicked and asked, “Master, don’t You care that we perish?”

The problem was never that Jesus didn’t care. The problem was their expectation. He had already told them, “Let us go to the other side.” That was the promise. But between the promise and the fulfillment came the storm—a test not of His power, but of their perspective.

Perhaps the storm came in your ship to reveal where your expectations truly lie. Was your faith in Him or in the ship? Was your peace anchored in His word or in the people around you?

We often think God is absent when we can’t feel Him, but Jesus was in the same boat—resting. His rest was proof of His authority. He wasn’t moved by the storm because He was the Master of it. And maybe that’s what He’s trying to show us: that even when life feels unstable, His word remains sure.

Jesus told us to count the cost before we build. He knew the rains would come, the winds would blow, and the floods would rise—not maybe, but for sure. Yet if the foundation is firm, if the ship is built with Him as the Captain, then no storm can sink it.

When we misplace our expectations, we begin to idolize the ship itself. We start measuring the success of our journey by how smooth the water is instead of how steadfast our faith remains. We place hope in the relationship, the title, the ministry, or the friendship—and when those things start taking on water, we panic. But God allows storms to shift our focus from the vessel to the Voice.

It’s not that He doesn’t want us to build. It’s that He wants us to build with Him. Because sooner or later, every ship will face resistance. And when that moment comes, you’ll need to know that He is still on board, still in control, and still able to speak, “Peace, be still.”

Don’t jump ship because of the storm. Don’t wreck your ship because your expectations were built on people instead of His promise. Every storm is temporary, but His word is eternal.

You may have lost people along the way—those who couldn’t handle the waves or the waiting. That’s okay. Not everyone is called to sail with you to the other side. The storm wasn’t meant to destroy you; it was meant to develop you.

So as you navigate your ships—relationships, partnerships, situationships, and friendships—let Jesus be the Captain. Let His voice guide your direction. Let His peace anchor your heart.

Let Him take the wheel—-because the truth is, the safest place to be isn’t in calm waters—it’s in the same boat with Jesus.

When God Sends You, But They Don’t choose You

“The man who does not first know himself will never be able to recognize how set apart the woman is who is standing before him.” — David Anthony Burrus

This is one of the most profound statements I’ve ever heard.

I’ve learned some valuable lessons over these last few years. I’ve watched countless relationship podcasts, prayed, and reflected deeply on what true partnership looks like through God’s eyes. Eve was set apart inside of Adam. When God was ready to multiply what was in him, He introduced the concept of multiplication through her—by giving her a womb. She was the vessel that would carry what God placed in him.

Today, men have countless options. But Adam only recognized Eve because he knew who he was first. God never had to tell Adam where she came from; he knew through revelation—through being deeply in tune with himself and with God. God put Adam in the first induced coma and performed the first open surgery, taking a piece of his rib. That act wasn’t just physical—it was prophetic. A man can never love a woman beyond his capacity to love himself.

When things went wrong in the garden, Adam blamed God for the woman He gave him. Sadly, that same mindset still lives today—blame, confusion, and division. We’re watching the same pattern repeat itself in our generation: misplaced accountability and a lack of self-awareness, while the enemy quietly deceives us out of alignment.

And because of that, very little is being multiplied. True fruitfulness and divine partnership can only happen when both man and woman walk in revelation, not confusion—when they both know who they are in God before they come together.

In Genesis 24, we see that kind of divine alignment again through the story of Isaac and Rebecca. Abraham sent his servant on a sacred mission—not to find just any woman, but the one God Himself had chosen for Isaac. Abraham understood that covenant relationships aren’t just about personal happiness; they’re about eternal alignment and generational destiny.

Before sending his servant out, Abraham declared, “The Lord will send His angel before you.” This wasn’t about human effort—it was heaven’s orchestration. Isaac didn’t chase. He didn’t have to prove himself. He trusted the process his father set in motion, and ultimately, he trusted God.

When the servant arrived at the well, he prayed a very specific prayer—not for beauty, but for character. He asked that the woman who offered him a drink and also watered his camels would be the one God had chosen. Rebecca didn’t hesitate; she didn’t negotiate. She labored in humility and obedience. That simple act revealed her readiness for destiny.

But here’s where many miss it: what happens when God sends you, but they don’t choose you?

When heaven has already chosen, but someone’s immaturity or insecurity blinds them to what’s standing in front of them? What happens when God’s answer looks unfamiliar, inconvenient, or not like the picture we imagined?

Rebecca could have said no. Isaac could have doubted the process. But they both said yes—and that yes shaped nations.

So many today pray for God’s best but reserve the right to reject it if it doesn’t match their preference. We want covenant without consecration, blessing without obedience, promise without process. But heaven’s alignments require spiritual maturity—especially from the one who’s supposed to recognize what God placed before him.

Because when God sends you and they don’t choose you—it’s not a reflection of your worth; it’s a reflection of their readiness. Rejection doesn’t cancel your calling; it redirects your path to where your “yes” will be honored.

Stay aligned. Stay obedient. Because when God chooses, rejection doesn’t just delay a relationship—it interrupts destiny.

The crushing

I recently watched a movie called Ruth and Boaz, a modern-day version of the biblical love story between Ruth and Boaz. Boaz, in this retelling, owns a distillery and understands the sacred value of the crushing. He doesn’t dismiss Ruth as damaged goods or see her through the lens of her past. Instead, he sees her — truly sees her — as the treasure she is.

On their first date, something profound happens: Boaz washes Ruth’s feet, an act of humility and honor. Then, he invites her to join him in crushing grapes. The symbolism is breathtaking. Before the wine can flow, the grapes must first be crushed. Before the fragrance of purpose can be released, something must be broken.

Jesus said that in order to receive new wine, we must also receive a new wineskin. Without it, the new wine will burst the old container, and both will be destroyed. So often in relationships, we long for the beauty of the new — new love, new intimacy, new beginnings — yet resist the breaking process that prepares us to hold it.

In love and marriage, there are seasons of romantic bliss where everything feels effortless, and then there are seasons where the weight of the relationship feels like pressure — like crushing. But these moments are not designed to destroy us; they are opportunities for transformation. The crushing refines what’s inside us and makes the love more potent, more enduring, more alive.

In DeVon Franklin’s new movie, there’s a powerful scene where the distillery was intentionally set on fire and Boaz believes everything was destroyed. Until, he tasted the wine. When you endure the crushing, there is a drink offering that is produced, called new wine. The flames didn’t destroy the wine — they deepen its flavor. Likewise, in love, the fires of testing aren’t meant to consume the relationship but to concentrate its essence. True love, like fine wine, must survive both the fire and the crushing to release its most exquisite form.

When God is at the center, even the pressure produces promise. What once felt like breaking becomes becoming. The relationship becomes the vessel — the new wineskin — that holds what God has refined through time, faith, and perseverance.

So if you find yourself in a season of pressure, remember: God is not punishing you. He’s preparing you. The crushing is not the end — it’s the beginning of something new, fragrant, intoxicating and lasting.

Because love that has been crushed, pressed, and preserved through fire is the kind of love that never loses its flavor.

Hold on to your song

I won’t Hang My Harp on the Willow Trees

Have you ever felt like you were supposed to be married — that God confirmed it, gave you the details, aligned the testimony — only for the person to reject you? That kind of heartbreak feels like exile. Your heart is taken captive, and instead of celebrating love, you’re left grieving the life you thought you would be living by now.

That’s what Israel felt in Babylon. Psalm 137 says, “We hanged our harps upon the willows… for they that carried us away captive required of us a song.” The enemy had the audacity to mock them: “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” How do you sing when everything you hoped for has been stripped away?

Israel ended up in exile because of their own disobedience. God warned them through Jeremiah, but they kept rejecting His word. They thought it would be a quick season, but God told them it would last seventy years. Even though disobedience brought them there, God still had a plan: “I know the thoughts I think toward you… to give you a future and a hope.”

I can relate. God gave a man every confirmation about me. Our stories, our adversity, our callings lined up letter for letter. God kept warning him to set himself apart, to choose obedience over compromise. But he hardened his heart, season after season, choosing woman after woman. Finally, God let him choose what he wanted — not the one He prepared.

And this is where many men and women miss it. We self-sabotage. Instead of committing to God, we run into entanglements. Instead of being set apart and waiting for His timing, we chase what feels good in the moment. We think God isn’t present in our “strange land” seasons, but He is. Just like He told Israel to build houses and plant gardens in Babylon, He wants us to live, grow, and thrive even when life doesn’t look like what we expected.

That’s the kingdom word for today: Stop despising where God has you, even if disobedience, heartbreak, or rejection landed you there. His will still stands in the middle of the mess.

The hardest part is the audacity of the enemy. After heartbreak, it feels like the world mocks you: “Sing your song now. Where’s your joy? Where’s your hope?” It’s the same cruelty Israel faced — being taunted to sing in a land of sorrow. Rejection will try to silence you, but here’s the truth: You still have a song.

I won’t hang my harp on the willow trees. I refuse to let heartbreak, delay, or rejection stop my worship or my hope for the future. The love I fought for and all the battles; I won secretly to continue to love and overcome will not be in vain. I loved outloud. I will continue to encourage others that God is still the God that is able. I dont know how or when but I know God can. One day I will love again and my next marriage will bring God great glory and honor because I loved Him and even when my heart was broken, I kept going and so should you. Because exile isn’t the end. Disobedience didn’t erase God’s plan for Israel, and rejection won’t erase God’s plan for me — or for you.

Sometimes relationships don’t turn out the way we thought God said. Sometimes the person can even hear from God and still harden their heart. But if Israel’s story teaches us anything, it’s that God’s plan is bigger than people’s choices, His timeline is deeper than our disappointment, and His freedom is greater than our captivity. Even in a strange land, He will give us back our song and we will be like them one day that dreamed again.

Psalm 126:1 When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream.

You Can’t Order a Wife Like a Robot

We live in a world today where technology has advanced to the point that people can design and order a robot companion. Artificial intelligence has created machines that can cook, clean, and mimic human behavior to the point of feeling almost real. Some of these robots are even designed for sexual use, simulating intimacy in a way that many believe can replace human connection. But no matter how advanced technology becomes, a robot cannot replace the divine design of marriage. A wife is not something you can assemble like a robot from a box or order online; she is a gift from God.

When God created Adam, He did not give him multiple women to choose from. He gave him one woman, Eve, divinely fashioned for his life and his assignment in the earth. The next level of favor in a man’s life is connected to the wife he chooses. Scripture says, “He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord” (Proverbs 18:22). That favor is not attached to just anyone—it is connected to the one God has ordained.

Today, men may feel like they have endless options, but the Garden of Eden shows us God’s original intent. It was not about variety or preference; it was about destiny. Eve was designed for Adam, and Adam had to recognize her, receive her, and call her what God created her to be. God created and built Eve with a womb—not only a natural womb for children but also a spiritual capacity to carry, nurture, and multiply what was entrusted to Adam. In the same way, the one God has chosen for a man’s assignment will be built and divinely aligned for that assignment.

I recently heard a podcast where the guest made a profound statement: “When you choose someone that is not your person, you automatically create a void of inadequacy and tramua in that person.” This is powerful. When a man chooses outside of God’s will, he not only hinders his own destiny, but he also wounds the woman who was never called to carry that assignment. Misaligned choices create cycles of brokenness, disappointment, and striving, because the relationship was never rooted in divine purpose.

This brings us to the question of calling and predestination. Scripture says, “Many are called, but few are chosen” (Matthew 22:14). To me, this means many are called to assignments, but only those who prepare themselves through separation, obedience, and maturity are chosen to walk in them. In every house, there are vessels of honor and vessels of dishonor. Judas, called the son of perdition, had a role to play even though his purpose was to betray. Yet, Jesus still loved him. Peter, on the other hand, was prayed for, restored, and became a vessel of honor. The difference wasn’t that one was loved and the other wasn’t—it was that one surrendered to transformation and the other did not.

The same applies in relationships. A man cannot simply order a wife to his liking, assembling qualities as if from a catalog. Nor can he replace her with a robot that simulates intimacy. Artificial connections may offer safety, but they can never produce covenant.

Adam named Eve—not God—because Adam recognized she would become “the mother of all living.” Men today must ask themselves: are you able to recognize the woman God has presented to you? Can you call her what heaven has destined her to be in your life?

This is a call back to God’s design. Men are called to love not with inordinate affection or shallow desire, but with the love of Christ—the love that sacrifices, nurtures, and protects. Women are not toys, nor replacements for loneliness. They are God’s creation, divinely aligned with a man’s purpose.

The question is not whether God has called you—He has. The question is: have you prepared yourself to be chosen?

The classroom of love

God is love, and deep down, every one of us is searching for it. Some search in the right places, while others stumble through the wrong ones, hoping to find something that will satisfy the ache in their souls. For some, love has become so distorted by disappointment that they echo the words of an old song: “What’s love got to do with it?” But the truth is—love has everything to do with it.

I will never forget March 21, 2023. I stood at my aisle that morning believing it would be just another day. Yet it became the precursor to one of the most unforgettable semesters of my life.

God spoke something into my spirit so clearly that I posted it on Facebook:

“I remember when we were kids in school, and the teacher got ready to take attendance. We had to say PRESENT. I heard Present loud in my spirit. Make sure you are present and in your seat!!! God is getting ready to call your name again. PRESENT!!!”

Eight days later, on March 29, my life shifted. That morning, love called my name. God revealed to me that I did not have to chase love through dating. My future husband would find me. And though he never literally called my name, love did.

I prayed that God would allow my husband’s love to unlock my heart without questions. And in the beginning, it was beautiful—an unexpected journey of restoration. I felt like I was fifteen years old again. My heart was being restored immediately. I quickly discovered what it meant not only to love but to be in love. He was intentional, doing the work, saying the right words. We had divine alignment.

But then the exams began.

Love’s classroom is not without tests. I found myself learning lessons that only experience could teach. I had to study hard—through tough conversations, unhealthy boundaries, rejection, confusion, comparison, and even the heat of fiery trials. I checked off the boxes of patience, kindness and love keeps no record of wrong. I stayed in my seat even when it was uncomfortable, because God had enrolled me in the class.

Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 13 became more than verses on a page; they became the study guide of my soul:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

When fear made him draw back, I chose to stay present. When doubt tried to whisper, I remembered that God had sent me and love never fails. Even when my name wasn’t called right away, I knew I was in the right class, the right seat, and I was not late—I was right on time.

Love’s classroom isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence. Just like when I was a little girl who had to say “present” when her teacher called roll, I had to present myself fully to the lessons of love. To remain seated even when it was difficult. To trust that God, the greatest Teacher of all, was guiding the curriculum of our hearts. I believed he was taking the same test and always hopeful he was passing like me.

And here’s what God showed me: we have to be able to pass our final comprehensive exam called the curriculum of crisis when it is time to cross over to the other side. Pastor Dharius Daniels said it best: the weather didn’t change the word. It’s the same answer He gave you on the shore before the storm. Because even when the storm itself can’t destroy you, your reaction and decision to the storm can. Don’t self-sabotage.

The journey was not easy, but it was worth it. Every test and trial has become a page in my textbook of faith and love. And with every lesson, God reminded me: I passed and came forth as pure gold. God will honor me because I honored Him and obeyed. I encourage you to obey God as well even when the storm is raging and you believe Jesus doesn’t care like the disciplines questioned Jesus.

So, if you find yourself in love’s classroom today, don’t run from the exams. Don’t change seats. Don’t leave when it gets hard. Stay present. Stay teachable. Stay rooted in the truth that God is love, and His love never fails even if he doesn’t call your name. Love will call you again.