“The Word That Freed Me”
A year before my late ex-husband passed away, I received one of the most unexpected phone calls of my life. I was at work, minding my business, not knowing that a word of freedom was on its way to find me.
Now let me be honest — we didn’t talk much at all. In fact, communication between us had become almost nonexistent. But this time was different. He was obeying God. He said, “Marie, I’m not a hundred percent sure if you want to be married again, but this I know — you believe your future husband will not have a right to all that God is going to give you because of what you suffered with me.”
That statement stopped me in my tracks. See, we weren’t talking as friends. We were barely brother and sister in Christ at that point. But the weight of his words hit my spirit. He was a man who didn’t always understand his authority, but when he spoke for God, heaven moved.
He had already brought me before his church and openly repented for how he had treated me. His message had become forgiveness. Yet even as his spirit was being renewed, his body was bearing the cost of bitterness and unforgiveness.
When he spoke that word, I didn’t argue. I simply said, “I’ll consider what you said and ask Jesus.” I hung up the phone humbly, with an open heart. But let me tell you — I wasn’t ready for what came next.
Y’all, the Holy Ghost hijacked me right there at work. I didn’t have a single tissue in that office. I cried so hard that snot was dangling from my nose, and I thought my insides were going to burst. I ran to the bathroom, shut the door, and placed everyone in my office under “spiritual arrest.” I told the angels, “Guard this door. No one comes in.”
Right there, I told God I wasn’t going to wrestle with that word. I wanted to be free — and I didn’t believe freedom had to take years. I cried that thing out until the demon of bitterness had to go. I wanted nothing standing between me and my next husband. I knew I had stepped into generational warfare, and there were spoils waiting for several generations — promises that had been whispered to me in secret and confirmed publicly through prophetic ministry.
And here’s the thing: I didn’t even realize I felt that way until God used the same mouth that once wounded me to speak freedom over me. It reminds me of the little Shunammite girl who told Naaman to go see the prophet Elisha (2 Kings 5).
That story always humbles me. Can you receive a word of freedom from the same one who placed you in bondage? Or can you give a word to the one who’s holding you in theirs?
Naaman almost missed his healing because pride blocked his obedience. It was humiliating to strip down and dip seven times in the muddy Jordan River, but that obedience led to his healing.
Sometimes the road to freedom doesn’t look like what we expect. Sometimes it’s wrapped in humility, covered in tears, and carried by the very person we never thought God would use.
God told me to write my memoir and release it in His time — not when others were ready, but when He built the platform. And when He did, it wasn’t just for me. It was for those who would walk beside me — partners in freedom, faith, purpose, and love.
So if you’re willing to receive the word from an unlikely messenger and obey even when it feels humiliating — God says He’ll do it again, just like He did for Naaman and me.
Receive your healing. Be made whole. And walk free.