Righting our generational wrongs

To Right a Wrong: God’s Promise to Restore Generations

“To right a wrong” means to correct a mistake or injustice. It carries with it a moral and ethical obligation to restore fairness, balance, and justice. One of the greatest injustices in history was slavery—a system that dehumanized African Americans and stripped them of their God-given rights. Among these injustices was the denial of marriage. Slaves were legally defined as property and therefore had no capacity to enter enforceable contracts, including the sacred covenant of marriage. Families were ripped apart against their will, leaving generations marked by this brokenness.

My heart has been broken repeatedly by the Lord as He’s revealed to me the depth of this injustice within my own lineage. My ancestors were denied the right to marry, forced apart by cruelty and oppression. Yet today, many of us willingly walk away from our spouses, with divorce rates at an all-time high. I believe that God, in this hour, is righting this wrong. He is raising up couples who will serve as a new paradigm for love, marriage, and commitment. These unions will reflect His glory and restore the foundation of His church, which is built on strong, God-centered families.

A Call to Fulfill the Promises of the Past

I will never forget the impact of watching the movie Django Unchained on January 17, 2013. The film, which depicts the pain and sorrow of slavery, brought me face-to-face with the suffering endured by my ancestors. I was particularly struck by the lengths the main character, played by Jamie Foxx, went to rescue his wife. It stirred something deep within me, a realization of the unimaginable pain my ancestors faced when families were torn apart.

As I reflected on their suffering, the Lord reminded me of Hebrews 11:37-40:

"They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted, and mistreated—
the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, living in caves and in holes in the ground.
These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised, since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect."

This passage became real to me in that moment. The promises God made to them were not forgotten. Though they did not receive them in their lifetime, we are their fulfillment. God planned something better, that together with us, their promises would be made perfect.

A Divine Encounter

The following day, January 18, 2013, I walked into my office and closed the door. Overwhelmed by the weight of what I had seen and the suffering I now understood, I began to weep deeply. I thought of the pain and sacrifices my ancestors endured and how the Lord was weaving their promises into my life. As I knelt in prayer, extending my hands, I felt as though fire was being poured out over me. God revealed to me that His restoration wasn’t just for three generations past—it stretched further, reaching back into the depths of history.

A few years later, God used Apostle Dr. Matthew Stevenson III to prophetically confirm what He had spoken to me in secret. Dr. Stevenson declared that I had labored and suffered for many years, and God was restoring everything that was lost. This confirmation solidified what the Lord had already shown me: we are the answer to our ancestors’ prayers.

The Cloud of Witnesses

Hebrews 12:1 tells us that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses—those who have gone before us, cheering us on as we run our race. Pastor John Hannah recently preached a message titled Birth It as part of his promise series. He said, “Some of you have great-great-great grandparents you’ve never met, but God made them a promise. You’ve already been marked and highly favored, and everything is coming into alignment just to get to you.”

This message echoed what the Lord had already placed in my heart. Our ancestors dug wells of promise, but it is our generation’s responsibility to uncover them. Just as Abraham dug wells and Isaac reopened them, we are continuing the legacy of faith. He is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and His promises are generational.

The Restoration of Marriage

God is beginning this work of restoration with marriages. He is divinely aligning couples to fulfill His intended purpose for love and relationships. These unions will:

• Restore hope in love and commitment.

• Break generational curses of brokenness, divorce, and relational dysfunction.

• Demonstrate God’s glory through unity and covenant.

• Strengthen the church by rebuilding the foundation of family.

Marriage is not just about two people coming together; it is a prophetic act of restoration. It is God’s judgment against the enemy’s attempts to destroy families and relationships. Through these unions, God is healing generations and fulfilling promises made long ago.

A Call to Receive the Promises

God is inviting us to rise in faith and believe for everything He has promised—not only for ourselves but for the generations that came before us. He is not just restoring what was lost; He is multiplying it. As we align with His will and step into His promises, we become the fulfillment of our ancestors’ prayers.

They are watching. They are cheering. And God is moving. Get ready—He is about to right generational wrongs, heal our families, and restore marriages for His glory.

Our symphony 

 The greatest love song we will every right

will be when we become one

each night.

As we become the song,

 and right the generational wrong,

as we are strung together, 

Forever.

As our hearts play as one,

As we still rise with each setting Sun.

When the music stops playing but we can still hear our song, 

When days seem long,

Make me a song,

that rewrites the history of our wrong,

But I am the instrument, and you are the pen,

Go Deep within, 

Back to a place where love was forbidden,

Stolen and had to be hidden,

Finish the songs from generations heaven never heard,

Write them with your tongue without one word,

Play me like a note,

Fill me with hope that makes me float,

Beat me like a drum,

Thy kingdom come,

His will be done,

As we become one,

Play me like a flute,

and take root,

Hitting keys on me like an organ

Vital

Inside of me, 

That write a melody,

Of love,

Bringing the angels to attention from above,

To have to record every stroke, 

that creates a new note never spoke,

From songs only the angels can hear and are translated,

That’s long and awaited,

As our ancestors gather to dance to a symphony in the gate,

That has overcome death and hate,

That tore them apart,

But recovers all from the song in our heart, 

Striking a chord,

Honoring you as my king and Lord, 

Becoming the hook,

No longer shook,

releasing sounds that become a crescendo 

Of our symphony,

 in harmony,

as we become one

with every rising Sun. 

That plays from the rhythm of our souls,

That has been tipped over from generations of tears from bowls,

That are a fragrance of sacrifice that cost their life,

As we are joined as husband and wife,

As our bodies create a lyric that overcame defeat

That trumped over their pain, 

that now establishes our rule and our reign.

Hidden in Honor: When You’re Called Less but Chosen for More

There’s a sacred strength in a woman who knows who she is—who knows who God called her to be—and still chooses to honor even when she’s hidden. That’s the story of Sarah. That’s the story of Katherine Johnson. And that’s the story of so many women today who are quietly walking out destiny behind the scenes, uncelebrated but seen by God.

In Hidden Figures, Katherine Johnson’s genius helped send a man into orbit and bring him safely home. Her calculations were divine, her purpose ordained. Yet for years, her brilliance went unrecognized. She worked in the shadows, solving equations no one else could, while others stood in the spotlight. Katherine was hidden—but not forgotten.

Sarah was too.

Twice in Scripture, Abraham—her husband, her leader, God’s chosen man—called her his sister out of fear. He misnamed her to protect himself, leaving her vulnerable in foreign places. Yet Sarah didn’t rebel; she trusted God to defend her. She honored Abraham’s position even when he failed to see her identity.

What a paradox—both Katherine and Sarah carried heaven’s assignment but walked through seasons of being unseen. Their stories remind us that being hidden doesn’t mean being denied. Sometimes, it’s God’s way of protecting the promise.

Hidden Doesn’t Mean Forgotten

Maybe you’ve been faithful in a relationship, in ministry, or in business, yet feel unseen or mislabeled. Maybe he calls you “friend” when God already whispered “wife.” Maybe culture says you should walk away, but Heaven says, “Stay in position.”

Sarah’s honor positioned her for promise. Even when Abraham’s fear caused delay, God intervened. Pharaoh took her—God sent plagues. Abimelech desired her—God warned him in a dream. Sarah didn’t have to fight for validation; she let God speak for her. And in due season, she gave birth to Isaac—the promise fulfilled.

Katherine Johnson’s story mirrors that same divine rhythm. She didn’t demand a platform; she perfected her purpose. Her equations became her worship. While others were celebrated publicly, Heaven was recording her faithfulness privately. When the right moment came, history had to acknowledge what God had already affirmed.

Honor Is the Language of the Hidden

In today’s dating culture, honor is rare. We live in a world that says, “If he won’t claim you, leave.” But God’s way is different. He says, “Let Me reveal you when it’s time.”

Abraham loved Sarah, but fear clouded his discernment. Many men today wrestle with the same tension—afraid to choose a woman who doesn’t fit the image they’ve built or the timing they imagined. But God doesn’t match based on influence; He joins based on assignment. Sarah was carrying Abraham’s purpose even before he recognized it.

And you, woman of God, are carrying purpose too.

Don’t mistake being hidden for being overlooked. God hides what He values most until the appointed time. Just as He revealed Sarah’s righteousness and Katherine’s brilliance, He will reveal your name, your purpose, and your partnership when the time is right.

When You’re Called Less but Chosen for More

You are not less because he’s not ready. You are not forgotten because you’re not seen. You are chosen, covered, and called. When you honor God, even in the waiting, He honors you in the revealing.

Sarah’s obedience made her the mother of nations. Katherine’s excellence helped open the heavens. Your hidden season is preparing you to do both—birth promise and open portals for others.

Stay in position. Keep your heart pure. Trust God with your timing. Because when the right man—submitted, healed, and obedient—hears Heaven call your name, he will call you what God always said you were.

“She is not forgotten. Her righteousness will shine like the dawn, and her vindication like the noonday sun.” — Psalm 37:6

Built to Last — Even When He Chose Someone Else

I can’t believe it’s been four years since I first wrote you that letter on December 20, 2020. At the time, I didn’t know who you were — not fully. I only knew what God whispered to my heart. He told me to write, to speak life into a man I had never met, to weep for a love that felt ancient and familiar. What I didn’t realize then was that my obedience to write that letter wasn’t just about you — it was about me discovering who I am.

You decided to marry someone else out of the blue. I still remember the shock of it — how reality hit like a wave that stole the air from my lungs. I can’t believe you knew who I was and still chose a different woman. You got a wife, but not your purpose partner. That truth used to hurt in a way I couldn’t even put into words. But pain can become revelation when you let God interpret it.

Apostle Matthew Stevenson III once said, “There is nothing greater than reality except revelation.” And I’ve learned the truth of that statement in the deepest way. Reality told me you were gone. Revelation told me that nothing was wasted. God let me see beyond what was happening to what He was forming. The revelation He gave me sustained me — it taught me that love doesn’t die just because it isn’t reciprocated. It evolves, it sanctifies, it matures.

Discovering you in the beginning was a dream come true, even if the ending wasn’t what I expected. Watching you evolve into the man God called you to be — even from afar — was like watching a movie. You once said, “I almost coded,” and thanked me for giving love another chance, saying this time it would be forever. I thought that meant us. But now I know, that word was for my healing — not our union. God resurrected a part of me that had been buried under disappointment.

When I thought it was the end, Jesus showed up. Just like Lazarus, love came walking out of the tomb wrapped in new understanding. What I found wasn’t just you — it was the me that believed again. Finding you was recovering the part of my heart that still believed in divine purpose, covenant love, and destiny.

You were my King. You were my lion and my lamb. But I’ve learned that being my King doesn’t mean being my husband. God let me see who you were so I could understand who I am. The revelation was about was about preparation.

In my husband’s letter I wrote on January 19, 2021, I described you before I knew you. I see now that I was prophesying — not predicting. Every word I wrote about sacrifice, endurance, and love that lasts forever, was a mirror God held up for me. He was showing me the kind of woman I was becoming — built to last, even when love doesn’t go as planned.

We were forged in fire separately so that we could become fortified in purpose individually. You became who you needed to be for someone else. And I became who I was meant to be — for God, for purpose, and for the love story that’s still unfolding for me.

You taught me that even unfulfilled love can be holy. That’s the beauty of revelation. I can celebrate what was, honor what could have been, and still look forward to what will be. Because even when you chose someone else, I rest knowing God still chose me.

Forever,

Marie

Rejection was God’s preservative

Rejection Was God’s Preservative

Before I begin to share why rejection is God’s preservative, let me define what a preservative is and why it’s used. A preservative is something that protects against decay, discoloration, or spoilage. It keeps something from going bad before its time. When I look back over my life, I now realize that God was doing the same thing with me. He was preserving me — protecting me from being destroyed — even though it didn’t feel like it in the moment.

Rejection was never meant to break you. It was meant to preserve you. It was God’s way of saying, “Not this one, not now, not here.” You see, when God’s hand is on your life, He won’t let everything attach to you — not every person, not every opportunity, not every stage. Some “no’s” were actually heaven’s way of protecting your heart from decay and keeping your purpose pure.

For a long time, I couldn’t see it. I just saw the pain. I remember the day I had to come face to face with myself and admit that I didn’t love me. I wanted my ex-husband to love me broken, but I didn’t even love me broken. I wanted someone else to do what only God could — make me whole. Sometimes, we’re out here chasing love from people when what we really need is the One who is Love.

I’ll never forget the day I opened my heart fully to the Lord and said, “God, teach me how You love me.” I asked Him to reveal to me the love He and I shared in eternity. And He did. It became the most intimate season of my life — encounter after encounter where He loved me back to life. Every layer of rejection peeled away as His love became my covering.

Rejection redirected me. It became a preservative — not poison. The Word says in Song of Solomon that God’s banner over us is love. His banner over me is love, and it’s over you too. I didn’t take my own life when the enemy came to steal, kill, and destroy me because I had a revelation of that love. And if you’re struggling with suicide or rejection right now, I want you to know the same truth: rejection didn’t come to destroy you — it came to preserve you and point you back to God’s love.

The enemy wants to use rejection to distort your identity. He wants you so wounded that you reject God’s will for your life. But God uses rejection as redirection — to guide you back to His heart.

Another way the Lord showed me how He used rejection to preserve me was in my purity and preparation for my future husband. I wrote a letter on December 20, 2024, and in it I said: “Now I understand that every time I was rejected, God was preserving my love for you.” I can see now that even before I fully surrendered to Christ, He was keeping me from paths of destruction — even when I didn’t know it.

Rejection is God’s preservative when we learn to respond to His love instead of reacting to the enemy’s lies. And through it all, I found out how much God loved me so that I could know how much God loves those I’m called to share my love with — no matter how broken or bruised they may be.

Prayer:

Father, I pray for every person battling rejection and suicidal thoughts. Let them feel Your presence right now. Remind them that You promised to deliver us from every affliction. Reveal Your love to them as You did to me. Heal their soul. Break the spirit of rejection and suicide. Restore their identity in You. Open their eyes to see that their help comes from You, and that their best days are still ahead. Lord, remember them like You remembered Samson and avenge every wound. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

When Love aligns

When Love Aligns

Every relationship comes with its challenges. When love aligns, it doesn’t always feel like butterflies or smell like roses. Sometimes it smells like sacrifice and feels like stretching.

People say there’s poop and pee in the dating pool—and honestly, it can feel that way. Many are walking away from faith, and the love of many has grown cold. The Bible said it would happen. People are refusing to marry, and for many women, it seems like there are seven to one—if not more.

We all want the fairytale, but even in every fairytale, there’s always a part of the story where suffering shows up. Before Cinderella went to the ball, she was covered in ashes. Before Ruth met Boaz, she gleaned in the field. Before Jesus was exalted, He was crucified.

God is not just the Author of love—He is the Author and Finisher of our faith. He writes our wrongs and aligns our hearts to His will so we can receive His kind of love. But too many believers have bought into the lie that if you’re a Christian, you won’t suffer. We want the cup of blessing, but not the cup of suffering.

Yet the Word tells us it pleased the Father to bruise Jesus. (Isaiah 53:10)

In John 6, Jesus said, “He that eats my flesh and drinks my blood dwells in Me, and I in him.” Many were offended by this hard saying. They murmured. They questioned. And many turned back and followed Him no more. But Peter stayed. When Jesus asked, “Will you also go away?” Peter responded, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Jesus was establishing covenant. He was teaching His disciples what true alignment looks like. Relationships mirror that same covenant—especially marriage.

At first, it feels like a fairytale. But after the tests, the tough conversations, and the four seasons of life, some turn back. Love is not sustained by emotion; it’s sustained by alignment. When love aligns with God’s will, it endures.

Every relationship will have its own blessings and sufferings. Offenses will come, but blessed are those who are not offended. Love aligned with Christ can withstand storms because it’s built on obedience, not preference.

When Jesus looked at the twelve and asked, “Will you also go away?” He wasn’t just questioning their loyalty—He was measuring their alignment.

When love aligns, the one who stays will say like Peter did, “To whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Your purpose partner will not only walk with you in promise—they’ll stand with you through pain. They’ll feel so connected to your assignment that leaving you would mean abandoning their purpose.

Jesus knew Peter would betray Him, yet He still loved him because Peter was tied to His eternal purpose. That’s what alignment looks like—it’s not about perfection; it’s about purpose.

When you meet your purpose partner, you’ll know. You’ll be willing to pay the price to fulfill your destiny together. Allow God to perfect all things concerning you. Trust His timing. Obey His voice. He will not disappoint you.

Prayer:

Father, bring clarity and confirmation when love aligns. Even when the journey is hard to understand, give us discernment to know who is for us and who is not. Protect us from offense and strengthen our hearts to stay aligned with Your will. Grant wisdom to build our homes and understanding to fulfill Your purposes in our lives—individually and together. In Jesus’ name, amen.

It was a package deal

“It Was a Package Deal”

Some men really think that if they can’t have the woman, then they don’t want to be bothered with their own kids. I’ll never forget that moment standing before the judge with the father of my oldest son. We were there to establish child support — something I had avoided for a long time because I didn’t want the drama. But after doing everything I could on my own, I finally realized I needed help.

Shortly before our court date, he told me to tell public aid that I didn’t know who the father was. I remember looking at him like he had lost his mind. I had too much pride and integrity to lie. I had never been with anyone but him, and I wasn’t about to pretend otherwise. He was mad that I had taken him to court. But what he said next broke something inside of me and woke up something deeper at the same time.

He leaned over, right there in front of the judge, and whispered, “It’s a package deal.”

Then, without hesitation, he waved all his visitation rights to our son.

And that was the day he walked away — from me and from his own child — for seventeen long years.

That moment shaped me in ways I didn’t understand back then. It taught me that some men only want access to you, not accountability for what comes with you. They want your body, your energy, your nurturing spirit — but not your responsibility or your anointing.

Recently, I watched a podcast where a man claimed his children were “artificially inseminated,” trying to escape paying child support. I shook my head, realizing how generational that spirit of avoidance really is — that spirit of walking away when the real work begins.

But then, I thought of Boaz.

In the story of Ruth, we see what true redemption looks like. Ruth had a past — just like all of us. She was a Moabitess, someone who didn’t “belong” according to others’ standards. Yet, Boaz didn’t see her through the lens of her history. He saw her heart. He saw her honor. He saw her faithfulness in the small, unseen places.

The man who was next in line to marry Ruth refused. Why? Because he said, “I cannot redeem it for myself, lest I mar my own inheritance.” Translation: he didn’t want to risk his reputation or what he already had going on. He wanted the land — but not Ruth.

It was a package deal.

Boaz, on the other hand, understood that when God brings you someone, it’s not just about what they come with — it’s about what they carry. Boaz didn’t just want Ruth’s body; he wanted her purpose. He made provisions for her before she was his. He covered her in integrity. He saw her value long before he called her his wife.

And that’s what a man of God does. He doesn’t just claim you; he honors what God is doing through you.

Some men want you for your beauty, your business, your brilliance, or your bank account. But the one that God has for you will love you holistically — your anointing, your calling, your child, your story, and your scars.

The right one will recognize that you are the blessing, not the burden.

So, to every woman reading this who’s ever been told she’s “too much” or “has too much baggage,” know this: you are the pearl of great price, not the problem. God will hide your worth from the wrong one so He can reveal it to the right one. Wait for your Boaz.

When your core values align, your love will align. Don’t settle for the counterfeit.

It’s a package deal — and you, beloved, are worth the whole thing.

The longest mile

Sometimes in life we will need someone to take a walk with us. It could be a walk each day to encourage your friend to exercise with you or it could be a walk on a journey in life where that person’s presence becomes the strength you need just to keep going. Everyone needs someone. Jesus sent the disciples out two by two. Jesus needed the disciples to carry his message to the world after his death.

There were many times I could look back over my life and see I needed someone, but I felt like I was all alone. One of the first things the Lord did for me when I received salvation was, He walked with me backwards in intercession and showed me how much He was with me as a little girl when I felt alone the most. However, no matter how much we know Jesus is there, the word says a brother is born for adversity. I needed my mom for this mile I was about to have to walk. In Matthew 5:41 If anyone asks you to go one mile, go with them two miles. I asked my mom to walk this mile with me and she walked two.

Let me tell you how I will remember her the most and honor her for how she stepped up to the plate for one of the times I needed her the most. Shortly after the death of their father, my late ex-husband, my youngest son decided he was going to take control of his own life. He became completely defiant. He was attending a school that required him to wear a uniform. He decided he would no longer be wearing a uniform because he said I was trying to control him. He decided he no longer needed school and had scored so high on his scores that top schools were recruiting him for high school. He decided to smoke weed on the school property. I was constantly being called off my job because he also decided he didn’t want to live anymore and was suicidal.

I was completely overwhelmed by his behavior. It is too much to tell. I had the psychologist coming into my home, weekly. I took him to the psychiatrist. I was taking him to church to get deliverance. The system forced me to allow him on medication or else I was going to get charged with a case. His behavior escalated against me, and I came to a breaking point. This went on non-stop for two years. I knew we needed greater intervention.

There were so many days, he was in a different hospital. I couldn’t go up with my baby at the time. My mom would sit in the car for hours so I could visit him and then I would sit so she could visit him. Every weekend for four years and as needed I was on the road stopping stuff, bringing him something or we were going to visit him for hours. She would even go by herself on long bus rides just to take him something he requested while I was working. My mom nor me didn’t know that this would be the longest mile it would seem we would ever walk together because she was also slowing losing her vision and dying from cancer. My mom past last July 2023, but her presence was a silent strength to me so I could keep walking.

I want to encourage others that may be struggling as a caregiver in some capacity. Find you some resources to get the help you need. Continue to trust God. Get a support group and find you someone that will walk what may seem to be the longest mile of your life. Be thankful for those that have been willing to walk with us and may we never take for granted the sacrifice it may have cost when we ask someone to walk a mile with us.  I honor my mom, Beverly Bares, for walking one of the longest miles of my life with me.

It’s not what it looks like

It’s not what it looks like.

How many of us have gone through something painful, only to have others judge us without knowing the full story? I can relate to Mephibosheth in 2 Samuel 4:4. When his nurse heard the news that Saul and Jonathan were dead, she panicked. In her fear, she picked him up and ran to protect him—but instead of saving him, she dropped him. And from that moment on, he was lame.

There are so many parents—especially single parents—who can relate to this story. Children don’t come with a manual. Most of us are doing the best we can while carrying our own unhealed wounds, mental battles, and emotional scars. Yet we keep trying to protect and guide our children, even while bleeding ourselves. A real parent always wants better for their children than what they had growing up—even if what they had was good. Because sometimes good can be the enemy of better.

That nurse didn’t sit still because she didn’t care. She ran because she wanted to save him from what destroyed his father and grandfather. She was trying to prevent a tragedy—but in her fear, she caused one. That resonates deeply with me.

After my difficult marriage and divorce, I found myself a single mother running from fear, pain, and destruction—just like that nurse. Then, three years later, my ex-husband passed away suddenly at 38, leaving me to carry the full weight of raising our two young sons alone. I was on the run, not physically, but emotionally and spiritually—running from trauma, from the war zone we had just escaped, praying I could protect them from its aftermath.

Many women have been there. Whether by choice or circumstance, so many mothers have been left to carry the aftermath of broken homes, broken promises, and broken systems. And in that process, some of our children have been crippled—emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

I never imagined my own son would be one of them. I had three boys to raise on my own, and the weight became overwhelming. I exhausted every resource I could to get help, but the situation only got worse. Eventually, my youngest son—my heart—had to enter the foster care system. It broke me. It looked like failure to the outside world. But it wasn’t what it looked like. I was trying to save him, not abandon him.

When I walked into that courtroom for the first time, my attorney looked me in the eyes and said, “I know why you’re here, and I’m prepared to go to war for you.” Then the judge looked at me, smiled gently, and said, “Something tells me you’ve done everything you could.” He asked only one thing of me—to never break my connection with my son. And I didn’t. Even when it was hard.

For one year, I stood in the lion’s den until God Himself shut the mouths of those lions and restored my name. I was not charged with anything. God vindicated me.

One day, I’ll share my full testimony with my son beside me. God will get the glory. The gates of hell did not prevail against us.

Just as King David remembered Mephibosheth and brought him to the table to restore what was lost, God is raising up modern-day Davids—people who will call our sons back to the King’s table. Our children are not forgotten. They are royal. They will rise again.

2 Samuel 4:4 (KJV): “And Jonathan, Saul’s son, had a son that was lame of his feet… and his name was Mephibosheth.”

Sometimes you will appear crazy

“Sometimes You’ll Appear Crazy”

Sometimes you’ll appear crazy to avoid destruction—and actually be delivered from the hand of the enemy. Sometimes you’ll appear crazy because you’re willing to take risks that others won’t. We all get ourselves into situations that just don’t make sense. We sit there afterward and ask, “Why did I do that? Why did I go there? Why did I risk that?”

In 1 Samuel 21, David had just parted ways with Jonathan. On the run from King Saul, he found himself at Nob, standing before Ahimelech the priest. The priest was startled to see David alone and questioned his motives. David’s response was strategic, even deceptive—he told Ahimelech he was on a secret mission for the king and asked for bread. David was hungry, desperate, and in survival mode. He was doing what he had to do.

Sometimes obedience will make you look irrational. David risked his life to get food for his men. He walked into enemy territory to secure what was needed. That’s what bold obedience looks like—it doesn’t always make sense to human reasoning. Are you willing to look crazy to obey God and take a risk others won’t?

But let’s flip the script for a moment. What David did could also be viewed as an act of self-sabotage. He placed himself in a compromising position because of his appetite. Hunger made him vulnerable. Sometimes our greatest mistakes don’t come from rebellion but from need. When we’re in survival mode, we’ll do things that make sense to desperation but not to destiny.

I’ve been there. I’ve gone back to the very places that broke me—relationships, situations, environments that once violated or abandoned me—thinking maybe it would be different this time. I’ve called it love, loyalty, faith, or ministry, but deep down, it was self-sabotage. Two words that I had to confront in my own life.

As Pastor Dharius Daniels said, “When you increase self-awareness, you decrease self-sabotage.” The moment David realized he had been recognized in the enemy’s camp, panic took over. He feared for his life, and so he pretended to be insane—foaming at the mouth, drooling on his beard, and pounding on the city gate (1 Samuel 21:12–15). It looked humiliating, but it saved his life.

That’s the tension: sometimes panic makes us act out of character, but sometimes that moment of appearing “crazy” becomes the vehicle for our deliverance. David’s act looked foolish, but it kept him from destruction. It wasn’t his strength that saved him—it was God’s mercy in his vulnerability.

In today’s culture, “appearing crazy” might not look like foaming at the mouth. It might look like walking away from a relationship everyone expected you to stay in. It might look like leaving a job that’s killing your peace or turning down an opportunity because God said no. It might look like saying “I need help” when you’ve always been the strong one. To the world, it looks foolish—but to Heaven, it looks like faith.

God is still delivering people who appear crazy. He’s protecting those who step out, risk obedience, and choose healing over performance. And if you’ve ever acted out of fear or found yourself in a compromising situation—know this: God is merciful. Just like He delivered David, He’s delivering you too.

The face of God

To See Your Face Is Like Seeing the Face of God

I love the song “Mary, Did You Know?” There’s a line that has always made me pause and reflect deeply. It says, “Mary, did you know that when you kissed your baby boy, you kissed the face of God?”

What a profound question — and the answer is yes. She did.

But have you ever stopped to wonder what it must have been like for Mary, Joseph, and even Jesus’ siblings as He grew? Did they become so familiar with Him that they stopped seeing the miracle in their midst? How often do we do that — grow so common with the presence of God in others that we stop recognizing His reflection in their faces?

The truth is, some people will never see God unless they see Him through your face.

Let’s rewind to another story — Jacob and Esau. From the womb, the twins wrestled for position. God told Rebekah that the older would serve the younger, but instead of trusting His timing, she and Jacob took matters into their own hands. They schemed to manipulate what God had already promised. Jacob took advantage of Esau’s hunger, trading his brother’s birthright for a temporary meal that would cost him dearly.

How many of us have made choices in moments of weakness — trading something sacred for something that only satisfied us for a moment? I know I have. I ended up with both a burden and a blessing.

Only God can restore and heal what we break — in families, relationships, and even within ourselves. Temporary satisfaction can leave long-term consequences, but thank God for grace that rewrites our stories. Jacob carried guilt and fear that his past would ruin his future. But what he didn’t know was that God had already gone before him, preparing Esau’s heart and Jacob’s redemption.

When Jacob finally saw Esau again, he bowed seven times — not out of manipulation, but humility. This time, he was changed. The old Jacob was gone. He had wrestled with God, been renamed Israel, and carried the limp that proved his transformation. Esau, instead of attacking him, ran to embrace him. The two brothers wept, and Jacob said something so powerful it echoes through time:

“For to see your face is like seeing the face of God, now that you have received me favorably.” (Genesis 33:10)

What a picture of restoration.

God is raising up people who reflect His face — not because they’re perfect, but because they’ve been through transformation. You may feel like that caterpillar hidden in a dark cocoon, but God sees your process. You’re about to spread your butterfly wings. The very ones who once doubted your change will see His glory through you.

Pastor Darius Daniels once said something that stayed with me: “God loves us so much that He chooses to use us as examples. It’s our choice whether we become a model of what to do or a lesson in what not to do.”

The enemy wanted to make me a public example of failure. But God — in His mercy — decided to make me a testimony of restoration. He’s doing the same for you.

You are a living example of what grace can do. The very ones who once hurt you, doubted you, or rejected you will soon say, “To see your face is like seeing the face of God.” They’ll know He’s real because of what they see reflected through you.

So, believe again. God is healing families. He’s reconciling hearts. He’s using your life to reveal His. And when they see you — whole, healed, and walking in favor — they will know that God has truly been with you all along.

Do you love me?

One of the most painful things you can experience in an intimate relationship is when someone questions your love. You’ve given, sacrificed, endured—and still, they ask, “Do you love me?”

Peter knew that feeling. He wasn’t just a disciple—he was handpicked by Jesus. He had all-access to the Son of God. Peter was the one invited to walk on water. He was there on the Mount of Transfiguration. He got to see Jesus in His glory. He was in the garden of Gethsemane, but he fell asleep when he should have been watching. He was the only one bold enough to say, “You are the Christ,” and Jesus confirmed that Heaven itself had revealed it to him.

Yet despite all that closeness, Peter also denied Jesus three times. And still, Jesus restored him. That’s love.

After everything Peter had seen and done, there came a day when Jesus asked him three times, “Do you love Me?”—but not just “Do you love Me?” He asked, “Do you love Me more than these?”

That question pierced Peter’s heart. It grieved him. Jesus wasn’t trying to humiliate him; He was trying to heal him. He was calling Peter back into alignment. He was showing Peter that love isn’t just a feeling—it’s a call to action. Each time Peter answered, Jesus gave him an assignment: Feed My lambs. Feed My sheep.

Sometimes, our actions make people—and even God—question our love. Not because He doesn’t already know the answer, but because He wants us to know what it costs to prove it.

Jesus told Peter that his love would one day cost him his life. He was preparing him for that level of sacrifice. “When you were young, you dressed yourself and went where you wanted. But when you are old, someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.”

That verse shook me the first time I really understood it. Jesus was letting Peter know that loving Him wasn’t going to be convenient—it was going to be costly.

I remember when God asked me the same question: “Do you love Me?”

It was during the darkest season of my life. My late ex-husband had told me over and over that he was going to leave. I had done everything I could to make it work—fought for him, prayed for him, cried for him. I remember the day I came before the Lord, completely broken. I told God, “I love him. I can’t live without him.” I meant it. I was suicidal.

That’s when the Lord spoke softly but firmly: “There is no greater love than this—that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

I died that day. Not physically, but spiritually. Something in me surrendered. I stopped trying to fix what only God could heal. I stopped making my love conditional on someone else’s response. I gave God all of me.

From that moment on, I began to live differently. My identity wasn’t tied to being chosen by man—it was anchored in being chosen by God. My responses changed because dead men don’t respond. The Word of God began to govern my emotions. I stopped bleeding from what hurt me and started pouring from what healed me.

Like Peter, I found restoration through brokenness. The same Jesus who asked, “Do you love Me?” also covered Peter’s failure and still trusted him with His sheep. That’s the kind of God we serve.

Today, He’s still asking the same question: Do you love Me?

And if you do, show it. Feed His sheep. Love who He’s assigned to you. Die to yourself daily. Because love isn’t just spoken—it’s demonstrated.

The table the Lord has prepared

Don’t Give Up Your Seat at the Table

When we discern an enemy, our first instinct is often to get as far away from them as possible. Our flesh says, “Block, unfriend, and delete.” And if our friends don’t follow suit, we question their loyalty. But Kingdom friendship doesn’t operate by earthly standards.

Proverbs 27:6 reminds us, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” A true friend will wound you—not to harm, but to heal. You need discernment to know the difference between the one who wounds to make you better and the one who kisses to keep you blind.

Sometimes, we confuse the two. We call truth-tellers enemies and deceivers friends because they make us feel comfortable. But in this season, God is sharpening our discernment—not so we can run from people, but so we can recognize the purpose of both friends and enemies in our story.

Psalm 23:5 says, “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” The Lord doesn’t remove your enemies before He blesses you—He reserves them a seat. Why? Because the table He prepares isn’t just about you eating—it’s about God revealing His glory through you.

There are three things we must discern about this table:

1. Is this the table the Lord prepared, or one I set up myself?

2. Am I aware that my enemies will have a seat too?

3. Will I stay in my seat, even when I’m uncomfortable?

Too many of us give up our seat because we don’t like who’s sitting across from us. But that seat holds your next level of anointing, authority, and overflow.

Jesus modeled this perfectly in John 13. He came to the table fully aware that His hour had come. He didn’t hide from betrayal—He faced it with understanding. He knew Judas would betray Him and Peter would deny Him, yet He still served them both.

We need the discernment of the sons of Issachar in this hour—to know the times and seasons of God for our lives and those connected to us. Some people are Peters—they may fail you, but they are meant to be restored. Others are Judases—they have a role to play, but they cannot go where you’re going.

Jesus never exposed Judas to the others. He treated him with love, knowing he was a vessel of dishonor with divine purpose. That’s maturity. That’s surrender.

Matthew 5:44 tells us to “love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you.” When we do this from a place of pain and persecution, it purifies our hearts and perfects God’s love in us.

God is calling us higher—to a table of maturity. He’s separating us from our Judas connections and restoring us to our Peter relationships. But remember: the presence of your enemies at the table is not punishment—it’s proof that God trusts you to sit and stay.

Don’t give up your seat because of who’s watching you eat. Don’t let bitterness make you push back from the table the Lord has prepared. God saved you a seat—not just a crumb.

The woman who came to Jesus for her daughter’s healing understood this. Even when He said she wasn’t part of the Kingdom, she pressed in by faith. She said, “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” That kind of faith moved Jesus.

But here’s the truth—many of us stop at the crumbs. We call crumbs breakthrough when God is inviting us to the full feast. Healing was her miracle, but deliverance was her inheritance. Don’t settle for the crumbs when God has given you a chair.

Be grateful for progress, but don’t stop there. He’s calling you higher—out of survival, into sonship. Don’t give up your seat. Sit down, eat, and let His glory be revealed in the presence of your enemies.

The Divine Downsizing: Every Dog Will Have Its Day

The Divine Downsizing: Every Dog Will Have Its Day

There’s a divine downsizing happening. What we’re seeing in our nation and in the Church is not chaos — it’s clarity. God is reducing, refining, and revealing. Just like Gideon’s army in Judges 8, the Lord is thinning the ranks, cutting away the fearful, the prideful, and the self-promoting, so that only those who are anchored in faith, humility, and obedience will remain. This is not punishment — it’s purification.

Gideon started with thirty-two thousand soldiers, but God said, “That’s too many.” He was about to show the world that victory doesn’t come by numbers but by purity of heart. God reduced Gideon’s army to just three hundred men — men who were faint, yet still pursuing. They weren’t the strongest or the most skilled, but they were the ones who refused to quit. They were small in number but mighty in faith. Judges 7:5 (NKJV)

So he brought the people down to the water. And the Lord said to Gideon, “Everyone who laps from the water with his tongue, as a dog laps, you shall set apart by himself; likewise everyone who gets down on his knees to drink.” They were men that were willing to lap up the water like a dog.

That’s the generation God is raising right now — the Gideon Generation. Those who’ve been humiliated, misunderstood, and overlooked. Those who’ve fought private battles that nobody knows about but refused to walk away from God. You’ve been refined by rejection and tested through tears, and you didn’t even realize that the downsizing around you was actually God’s protection.

In this hour, God is separating the fearful from the faithful, the gifted from the obedient, and the proud from the pure. Many in leadership are being exposed because He’s removing what’s been built on ego, manipulation, and performance. God is dividing the stage from the altar. He’s calling for a remnant that has been purified through pain.

I recently heard Apostle Matthew Stevenson III say something that shook me to my core:

“Every dog will have its day.”

He referenced the woman in Matthew 15, the Canaanite woman who came to Jesus crying out for her daughter’s deliverance. Jesus ignored her at first, then said, “It’s not good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” That could’ve broken her faith — but instead, she said, “Yes, Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

Her humility unlocked her miracle. She didn’t deny being called a dog — she just knew that even the crumbs carried enough power to deliver her daughter. That’s the kind of faith that moves heaven.

Some of us have been living like that woman — sitting near the table but surviving off crumbs. We’ve settled for “just enough” because we’ve been told we don’t belong at the table. But Jesus didn’t ignore her faith even when He ignored her cry. Faith still works, even when it feels like God is silent.

I’ve been there — praying when it seemed like God wasn’t listening, believing when nothing was changing. But like that woman, I refused to let go. And I’ve learned that God honors faith, even when you feel like the “dog” in the story.

God is calling us higher. He’s shifting us from the crumbs to the table. The divine downsizing is not about who’s losing position — it’s about who’s ready for purity of purpose. He’s not promoting talent right now; He’s promoting trust. The ones who stayed faithful when it didn’t make sense are about to see God do more with less.

You may feel like one of the few left standing — faint, but still pursuing. But hear me: God is about to breathe fresh strength into the humble. He’s clothing the humiliated with honor. Every “dog” who refused to quit will have their day.

So don’t despise the downsizing — it’s divine. Don’t mourn what’s been removed. God is doing more with less, and He’s about to prove that the crumbs were just the beginning. He’s setting the table again, and this time, the ones who were overlooked will be the ones who overflow.

Every dog will have its day. Stay humble. Stay hungry. Stay faithful.

We must understand the importance of submitting our appetite

“Submit Your Appetite — Don’t Sell Your Birthright”

When Katniss’ father said in The Hunger Games, “As long as you can find yourself, you’ll never starve,” he wasn’t talking about food. He was talking about identity. He meant that if she could discover who she was — her skills, her strength, her purpose — she would always have what she needed to survive.

From the moment we enter this world, the enemy’s greatest strategy is to attack our identity. He’ll use how we were parented, how others treated us, and how we see ourselves to distort our sense of worth. Because if you never know who you are, you’ll never know what belongs to you — and you’ll trade your birthright for temporary satisfaction.

We’re watching this play out in real time. In light of everything God is exposing in the life of Shawn “Diddy” Combs and those attached to that scandal, it’s a sobering reminder: when a man doesn’t submit his appetite, his appetite will destroy him. Unsubmitted desire can ruin reputations, relationships, and destinies. Let this be a warning to all of us — find yourself in the Word and let wisdom call you higher.

Let’s examine Esau’s story with spiritual insight. From the womb, Esau was already wrestling with his twin brother Jacob. The struggle was so intense that their mother, Rebekah, went to inquire of the Lord.

“And the Lord said unto her, Two nations are in thy womb… and the elder shall serve the younger.”

— Genesis 25:23

Before Esau and Jacob were even born, God had already spoken their destinies. The same is true for us — God declared our end from the beginning. But Esau reached a place where he lost focus. The Bible says he despised his birthright. He was hungry, tired, and desperate. He forgot who he was and what his inheritance meant.

When you don’t submit your appetite, you’ll start to crave things that cost too much.

Pastor Dharius Daniels once said, “Be careful who you’re around when you’re hungry — some people won’t meet your need; they’ll exploit it.” That’s exactly what Jacob and their mother did to Esau. He was faint, and instead of feeding him in love, they used his weakness against him.

Sometimes, the people closest to us are the ones who can’t be trusted with our hunger.

What lie has the enemy told you that you can’t live without? Esau believed he was about to die and gave up his inheritance for a bowl of stew. What have you been willing to trade just to quiet a craving or satisfy a temporary desire?

Every story of downfall in Scripture starts with an unsubmitted appetite.

Eve’s hunger for knowledge.

Moses’ anger.

Samson’s lust.

Rachel’s idols.

David’s disobedience.

Abraham and Sarah’s impatience.

Each of them starved in an area of their soul — and it cost them something precious.

To walk in your calling, you must submit your appetite to God — naturally, sexually, spiritually, financially, and emotionally. Many have become weary in well-doing, hungry for validation, comfort, or success. But the devil is a liar. God is restoring focus, discipline, and self-control in this season.

If your character has been attacked or your reputation challenged, remember: God cares more about restoring your soul than your status. When your soul is whole, your image will be restored in the hearts and minds of those connected to your destiny.

It’s a new day. God is turning the page. He’s calling His children out of compromise and into consecration. When you rediscover who you are, you’ll realize — you were never starving. You were simply searching.

“The full soul loatheth an honeycomb; but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet.”

— Proverbs 27:7

Don’t sell your birthright for a moment of relief. Find yourself again.

In the name of The Lord

The Bait of Offense: Guarding Our Words and Our Hearts

In this hour, we as leaders must humble ourselves and remember—we are not greater than our Lord and Savior. Jesus was persecuted, and we will be too. Yet so many in the body of Christ are stumbling because of offense.

Matthew 11:6 says, “And blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in Me.”

Offense is one of the enemy’s most effective traps. It divides leaders, weakens churches, and poisons relationships. One of the greatest prophets in the Bible, Elisha, teaches us a sobering lesson about how dangerous offense can become when left unchecked.

Elisha was famous for believing God for a double portion of his master Elijah’s anointing. But we rarely talk about the day Elisha got in his feelings.

Let’s knock on his door and see what happened.

2 Kings 2:23–24 (KJV):

And he went up from thence unto Bethel: and as he was going up, there came forth little children out of the city, and mocked him, and said unto him, “Go up, thou bald head.”

And he turned back, and looked on them, and cursed them in the name of the Lord. And there came forth two she-bears out of the wood, and tare forty and two children of them.

He cursed them—in the name of the Lord.

How many times have we justified our words, our reactions, and our offenses “in the name of the Lord”?

Just two verses earlier, Elisha had spoken healing over barren waters, and the Lord honored his word for good. But when offense entered his heart, his words carried destruction instead. The same mouth that blessed now cursed—and God still honored his word.

This is a wake-up call for us as leaders. What are we saying that’s causing others to be blessed or torn apart? The Lord honors His Word, but He will also hold us accountable for the spirit behind our speech.

Pastors curse members when they leave their churches. Members dishonor leaders in the name of truth. Spouses dishonor their partners. Parents speak negatively about their children. We forget that David refused to touch Saul, even when Saul hunted him with 30,000 men. David honored the anointing, not the man. Even after Saul’s death, David honored his seed.

Where is the fear of the Lord?

David understood that honor was never about Saul—it was about God. The same must be true for us. As the body of Christ, we must guard our hearts from deception and refuse to be baited by offense.

John Bevere said, “Offense is the bait of Satan.” And he was right. The enemy wants us to take that bait—to curse instead of bless, to tear down instead of build, to react instead of reflect.

But God is calling us higher. He’s giving us eagle vision—a panoramic view to expose the schemes of the enemy. He’s going before us to make the crooked places straight and the rough places smooth.

So let us endure hardness as good soldiers. Let us lay down our right to be offended and pick up the cross of Christ.

This battle isn’t ours—it’s the Lord’s.

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer.” —Psalm 19:14

Spiritual IV Therapy

“The Crown: Spiritual IV Therapy”

Naturally, I’ve spent years as a healthcare professional — training doctors, nurses, and other medical staff. I’ve stood in hospital rooms, classrooms, and clinical settings teaching the importance of one simple yet vital procedure: Intravenous (IV) therapy.

What is IV therapy? It’s the delivery of fluids, electrolytes, medications, nutrition, or blood products directly into the bloodstream through a vein. It’s one of the most common invasive procedures used in medicine. Why? Because sometimes the body gets so depleted that it can’t heal or function properly without direct replenishment.

In the natural, one of the most common reasons people end up needing IV therapy is dehydration — often caused by excessive drinking or other reckless behaviors. When we deplete our bodies, we need a direct infusion of what we’ve lost. But what I’ve learned in both the natural and spiritual realms is that what happens in the physical often mirrors what’s happening in the spirit.

Just as the body can become dehydrated, so can the soul. And when we engage in behaviors that disconnect us from God — through disobedience, pride, bitterness, or unforgiveness — our spirit becomes spiritually dehydrated.

The Word says in 3 John 1:2, “Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth.” Notice that our health and prosperity are directly tied to the condition of our souls. When our souls are sick, our lives begin to show symptoms — emotional exhaustion, physical fatigue, and even relational breakdown. But when our souls prosper, everything else begins to align.

Proverbs 12:4 tells us, “An excellent wife is the crown of her husband, but she who brings shame is like rottenness in his bones.” That verse is so powerful. It reminds me that as women, we carry a sacred responsibility — to be a crown, not corrosion.

If you’re a woman like me, seeking the Lord for your divine mate, my prayer is that we become “excellent wives” — crowns of honor and not shame. May we not be the cause of rot in our husbands’ bones, but rather the ones who bring healing, life, and strength through love and intercession.

Sometimes, when our souls have been wounded or drained, we all need what I call spiritual IV therapy — a divine infusion of grace, peace, and love from the presence of God. Every relationship, no matter how anointed, will face storms. But love — real, covenant love — covers a multitude of sins.

As women of faith, we must learn to submit to one another in the fear of the Lord, to correct in private, and to protect in public. We must seek not only wisdom but understanding — knowing each other by the spirit and not by the flesh.

As a woman preparing for remarriage, I don’t just pray for a husband — I intercede for his soul. I cover him in prayer like a nurse prepares an IV line — carefully, intentionally, and with the right flow. Because God’s love is the ultimate healing agent. His love restores, revives, and renews.

So, if you are in a season of restoration, let God place you on His IV drip of mercy. Let Him restore your soul, replenish your strength, and purify your heart. And when He’s done, you’ll wear your crown again — strong, healed, and whole.

We must be willing to swallow

Swallowing the Whole Scroll: Embracing the Sweet and the Bitter

In life, there are times when God hands us things that are difficult to swallow. I remember choking on the reality that yes, I always wanted more children—but I wanted a husband too. We were a package deal. I was married, and my husband was about to leave me. I struggled to accept that once I was a mother before marriage, and now, I had two additional sons and was about to be a single mother again. This was not my fairytale. It wasn’t supposed to end like that.

I had invested so much—fighting for my family, for generations. How could my story end this way? One of my favorite stories in Scripture is when a mother brought her two sons to Jesus before His crucifixion. She asked Him if one could sit on His right and the other on His left in His kingdom. Jesus asked if they were willing to drink the cup He was about to drink. In my words, He was asking: were they willing to swallow the bitterness and suffer as He was about to suffer? Jesus was quick to let her know—they would drink from the cup, but the full weight of it was not theirs. We must be willing to swallow, even when life is bittersweet.

God has a prepared place for each of us. From the time of our births, we wrestle to understand our purpose. Along with that purpose comes a cup—blessings and suffering—that we must be willing to swallow. Ezekiel’s assignment illustrates this truth. In Ezekiel 3:1-4, God commanded him to eat the scroll:

“Son of man, eat that which you find; eat this roll, and go speak to the house of Israel… Then did I eat it; and it was in my mouth as honey for sweetness… Go, get thee unto the house of Israel, and speak with my words unto them.”

Notice how sweet the assignment began—like honey. Some of our experiences in life start sweet. The relationship you’ve been praying for begins full of hope. A business idea blossoms. A child finally comes after years of struggle. It is sweet. But sometimes, what began sweet turns bitter. A partner disappoints. The business becomes a burden. A child struggles with choices or pain.

We must be willing to swallow the whole scroll—to remain faithful to God’s assignment even when it becomes bitter. Ezekiel was warned that the people would be rebellious, that they would not listen, yet he had to obey. Assignments are rarely easy. Attacks and opposition are inevitable. But God strengthens us to withstand them.

By verse 14, what began sweet had become bitter:

“So the spirit lifted me up, and took me away, and I went in bitterness, in the heat of my spirit; but the hand of the Lord was strong upon me.”

Even when assignments feel bitter, God is with us. From the prophetic words spoken over me from age 18 to now at 52, many blessings were sweet to my soul, yet their fulfillment required swallowing bitter things. God wants us to know: to obey Him fully, we must swallow the whole scroll.

Our assignments may be both sweet and bitter, but if we hope to reign with Jesus, we must also be willing to suffer with Him. Be of good cheer. Jesus has already overcome the world. Like Ezekiel, we are called to warn the wicked—not for our glory, but so their blood is not on our hands. When we accept our assignment, eat the scroll, and obey, we save our own souls and fulfill God’s plan.

LIVE

Jesus didn’t just come to earth to deliver us — He came so that we could live and live more abundantly.

Ezekiel 16:6 says, “And when I passed by you, and saw you polluted in your own blood, I said unto you when you was in your blood, Live; yea, I said to you when you was in your blood, Live.”

That verse is personal to me. There was a time in my life when I didn’t love myself. I grew up in rejection — the kind that wounds before words are even spoken. I was the fourth and last child, born into a home that had already known divorce, remarriage, and another divorce shortly after I came into the world. My mother often reminded me she didn’t want any more children. So, I grew up feeling like a child nursed by rejection and cradled by devastation — loved by God, but unaware of it.

But when I gave my life to Christ at seventeen, everything began to change. One of the first things the Lord did was begin to reparent me. I had to learn love differently. I had grown up being “corrected in rejection,” but God corrected me with love. He drew me with kindness, not condemnation. He began to show me that He loved me individually — not as one in a crowd of His children, but as His daughter.

He started sending prophetic words, reminders of His plans, glimpses of a future worth fighting for. Through His love, He began to peel away the layers of shame, guilt, and self-hatred. He wanted me to see what He saw — purpose, not pollution. Hope, not hopelessness.

But I wasn’t always obedient. Before I met my late ex-husband, there was a time I was the villain in someone else’s story before I ever became the victim in mine. At twenty-two, I found myself in an adulterous relationship with a college professor. I justified it because he was “separated” from his wife for years. I told myself I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but deep down, I knew the truth.

I thought love meant being seen, being chosen, being public — after years of being someone’s secret. I was deceived. We even went to church together. I thought I could worship and still live in sin, but my soul was dying.

If you are in an adulterous relationship, I pray this reaches you in love — not condemnation. I’ve been there. I know what it feels like to want to fill the emptiness with what looks like love but leaves you bleeding spiritually. I pray God delivers and restores you like He did me.

When that relationship neared its end, I went away to a prophetic conference, hoping to hear from God. What He spoke changed my life. A prophetic leader looked at me and said, “The Lord wants you to know why you’re so special to Him.” I waited for her to expose my sin — but she didn’t. Instead, she said, “Every time the enemy tosses you around, you come running back to God.”

That word broke me. It was the first time I realized God wasn’t trying to shame me — He was trying to restore me. He told me my yes would deliver not just me, but generations after me.

When I came home, I let the relationship go. Later, I found out his wife had been pregnant and had lost the baby. That was God’s mercy closing a door I should have never opened.

Even after my marriage later failed, and I slipped again, God still delivered me. He kept me. And for the last seven and a half years, I’ve walked in abstinence — not from fear, but from freedom.

I share my story so you’ll know — God isn’t mad at you. He’s madly in love with you. Repent. Forgive yourself. Let Him heal what rejection and deception tried to destroy. He’s calling you, like He called me, out of the blood, out of shame, out of sin — to LIVE.

Proverbs 24:16 says, “For a just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again.”

Get up. LIVE again.

The Time Traveler's wife

Love transcends dimensions and time. It is stronger than death itself.

I’ve always loved the movie The Time Traveler’s Wife. The main character, Clare, spends her whole life in love with Henry—the man who, because of a rare genetic disorder, time travels uncontrollably. He meets her when she’s a little girl, and though their meetings are unpredictable and often painful, their love remains constant. She believes they are destined to be together. And deep down, I know the same is true for us—I feel like I’ve loved you from eternity.

Despite the time, distance, and trials that separate them, Clare and Henry’s love only grows deeper. It transcends time, circumstance, and logic. That’s the kind of love that reminds me of what God has placed in us—something divine, something that refuses to die no matter what tries to stop it. Our love is rooted in God, anchored in purpose, and sealed by destiny. The obstacles we’ve faced were never meant to destroy us; they were meant to prove that what we carry is kingdom—something bigger than both of us.

She wasn’t afraid to love him, even though loving him meant waiting, losing, and sometimes grieving. And I’m not afraid to love you. Because perfect love casts out fear. Love conquers all and endures all.

I’ve been time traveling for years—since 1992, to be exact—but not in the way the world understands it. My traveling has been through prayer and intercession. God would take me back into places in my past to heal what was broken. Around the year 2000, I began to weep for myself as a little girl, and in those sacred moments, Jesus would weep with me.

It was there, in those divine visits, that my healing began. I would see little Marie sitting alone, crying, feeling unseen and unloved. But as Jesus sat with me, He reminded me that I was never abandoned, only being prepared. Over time, those visits became less frequent. And one day, I realized I was healed—because I didn’t see her weeping anymore.

I didn’t fully understand it then, but God was strengthening me for the storms that were ahead. He knew I couldn’t fight if I was still wounded. I had to be made whole so that when it was time to run, I could run freely. My journey wasn’t just about my healing—it was about generations. God was about to take me back into the history of my bloodline, into the cries of my ancestors, and into the future He promised us.

The enemy was after everything I loved and everything God promised. But the way I learned to outrun him was by overcoming evil with good. Every time I forgave, I could move further ahead. Every time I wept for my ancestors, I was exchanging ashes for beauty. It became personal—so personal that I began to intercede not just for me, but for those who came before me and those who would come after me.

God broke my heart for what broke His. He showed me how to love deeper, to forgive faster, and to see clearer. The longer I stayed in worship and sacrifice, the purer my heart became, and the further I could see. My perspective widened, and suddenly, I could see both the past and the future in one panoramic view. I began to soar like an eagle—above pain, above loss, above time.

King David said, “By my God, I can run through troops and leap over walls.” That’s what it felt like. I was running through generational strongholds and leaping over limitations. And in that race of destiny, I ran right into you.

I prayed for you. I cried for you.

Forever,

The Time Traveler’s Wife

Get your weight up

Get Your Weight Up

You can have the most developed muscles in the world and still be weak in one area—your spirit. You can look like the Incredible Hulk on the outside and still be spiritually underdeveloped on the inside. I’ve learned that physical strength means nothing if your spiritual muscles can’t carry the weight of your assignment.

Both of us have the gift of faith. We’ve believed God against all odds, and in many ways, we are the manifestation of each other’s prayers. But this season—this divine training ground—has required us to get our weight up again. God has been conditioning us to carry more, not in our bodies, but in our spirits.

Years ago, two handsome, buff men pursued me. To most, they would’ve been “the total package.” Muscles, confidence, charm. But when they flexed and asked if I liked strong men, I smiled—because physical strength is impressive, but it doesn’t move me like spiritual strength does. A man can’t lead me if he can’t lift in the spirit.

Recently, I heard Michael Bethany say, “People aren’t afraid of greatness—they’re afraid of the weight that comes with it.” That hit me hard. Because greatness carries a weight. And for me, those weights have been heavy. But when I looked back, I saw how meticulous God was—chiseling me, shaping me, and stretching me. I didn’t realize how massive the legacy was that He was calling me to recover. The process wasn’t punishment—it was preparation.

One of the hardest seasons of my life was during my previous marriage. When the enemy rushed into my home, my late ex-husband didn’t have the spiritual muscles to resist him. He was called to be a heavyweight in God, but he never developed the endurance. That pain taught me something: I was called to be a heavyweight in God too—and I had to build the strength to carry the weight of what he dropped.

We get knocked down sometimes, but it doesn’t mean the fight is over. Romans 8:18 says, “For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.” Glory is heavy—but when you learn to stand under the pressure of pain, you learn to carry the weight of glory.

Like Moses, I asked to see God’s glory. And like Moses, God called me to the mountain—to a tight place in the cleft of the rock where I had to be hidden and refined. That place of consecration was painful. I wasn’t safe on the ground; I had to go higher. Every blow, every tear, every lonely night was training. I was building endurance.

It was like boxing training. A boxer doesn’t just build muscle; he builds muscular endurance to last twelve rounds. That’s what God was doing—training me to last through the fight of my life. These battles weren’t random; they were divinely orchestrated to break generational strongholds and build spiritual stamina.

There were nights I crawled, days I ran, and seasons I just stood still—but I kept moving. Because this fight was fixed. God had already declared victory.

I’ll never forget one night, my ex-husband came home after staying out again. I looked at him and said, “God called us to the multitudes. You’re responsible for four souls. If we’re faithful over little, He’ll make us ruler over much.” He broke down crying and said, “Those weights are too great.” I didn’t realize then that God was preparing me to carry what he could not.

Even after the divorce and his passing, God’s grace carried me through. He built my endurance through suffering so I could stand in glory. Sarah Jakes Roberts said it best—“Suffering has an intersection called glory.”

And now, I can say with confidence: God got His glory. We got our weight up. And we will finish strong.

“Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” — 2 Timothy 2:3

Poetic Reflection: “One of a Kind”

You make me put on boxing gloves,

To come to blows explaining a love

Above all loves—

I fight on sight,

Trying to describe what I’ve never seen or heard.

When God put you back on that potter’s wheel,

It wasn’t just to heal—

It was so you could feel.

He kept you longer to make you stronger,

Deeper,

A keeper.

He increased your capacity, steepened your climb,

Because you’re a special edition—one of a kind.

He broke the mold, hid His wisdom inside,

And when He finished, He rested—

Because He made one of His best.

And heaven whispered the verdict:

It was good.