...There’s no other person I love more in this life than the Lord, yet our communion together is the most neglected. And it’s never my intention for this to occur, but it does.
Walking through this life is excruciatingly difficult, and oftentimes bringing the Father into my heartache just makes my heart hurt more. In my mistakes along the way, even after repentance, I often choose to sit in the darkness of shame rather than abounding in the light of grace. Because failing the One I love the most brings me a grief so incredibly unbearable. I want the Lord to smile on me, be proud of me, and look fondly upon me. So I despise that I’m living in this flesh. Don’t get me wrong — I love my skin, my heritage, my Blackness. But I despise living in a body so broken and irredeemable. This body that is crippled with the yolk of anxiety, obesity, and dysfunction. I do not enjoy the Lord meeting me in these painful places because I know this isn’t the life He’d want for me. There’s no joy there, in the place where anxiety lives. I don’t have hope where obesity casts its shadow. I’m so ashamed of the mountains I wrestle with. In a perfect world, I’d be free from battling them all. And even though Christ offers His hand and intercession regarding these matters, I still find myself isolated, buried deep with them. They don’t even have to crush me anymore; Christ has come. But they do. Deliverance is real and available, but my body does not accept it. This flesh knows no freedom. These bones don’t bow in reverence on their own. And where longevity should be my greatest prayer, it’s also weighed as my greatest fear. My relationship with the Lord is coincidentally complex and compelling. It’s never been a perfect picture. But I believe in the gospel with all my heart. I want to believe that it works for me too. Because it’s so good. And it’s true. I wrestle with what’s true about myself. The things I tell myself, when it’s not seasoned with salt, can be absolutely gut wrenching. And it’s been that way since I could remember. But the word of God has always calmed me and brought forth peace. It’s always felt like home. Even though this body is broken and irredeemable, it is a temple. And I shall do my best to honor it. But it is not my home. I am trying my best to commune with the Lord in these foggy valleys. A dear friend of mine told me that my strive for perfection is eating me alive piece by piece. I know the spirit of perfection I carry needs to be put to death. I desperately need to be refined daily in the covering of grace. I need more fruit of the Spirit. I will never be good enough for God. (You’d think I’d believe that revelation already since the folks in the Old Testament felt this truth in their bones everyday.) That’s why the Lord sent the most perfect, final sacrifice to reconcile His creation back to Him. We don’t even have to work for His forgiveness or acceptance. We just have to believe and repent. Jesus lives. So I shouldn’t be afraid to live. I know that even in this body I can live an extraordinary life. I only need to keep breathing, rely on my Chief Intercessor, commune with the Lord — my first love, and do what I need to do to take care of myself and this temple. It will never be redeemed, but it can be a vessel to champion giving glory to God. Where the flaws of a body seem to be most crushing and yielding, the Lord used a body to be nail-pierced, beaten, and torn for divine reversal. When Christ rose on the third day, He put the sins of the body to bed eternally. I worship with this body. I share the Good News in this body. I create and direct award-winning films in this body. And one day, God-willing, I fervently pray that this body will carry a child. This body isn’t all bad blood. May we all come to know, love, and make time for communing with Christ in our greatest hour and deepest need... even in the middle. Show up for the Lord, no matter how challenging it may be. He is with us always and He greatly enjoys our company. It wouldn’t be in His plan to reconcile us if He did not delight in us wholly, both in our joy and in our suffering.
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Before I can pen this post, I have to make an honest confession: For over half a year now, I've been struggling spiritually, overwhelmingly heartbroken, and mourning so heavily that the morning where joy resides seems far too distant from this dear heart. I wish I could tell you a better reason for why my heart is weary or tell of a greater loss that would match the weight of my confession. But I've had to learn that grief is grief. It is not a comparable experience, and no one's grief triumphs over another's. So here's mine... At this time last year, I believed I had arrived at my promised land. Throughout my matriculation in college, I had been in-and-out of friend groups, relentlessly petitioning God for community — a Holy Spirit-filled one where my heart would be taken care of and where I would be safe. Then finally, it happened. And God had outdone Himself. In November of 2019, the fall semester of my junior year of college, I was immersed into a beautiful circle of friendship through mutual campus ministries. I remember being filled with so much gratitude at the crossroads. I'd find myself in tears frequently, harboring so much gratitude for this promise fulfilled. I had the most wonderful birthday too. The eve of my 21st birthday in February 2020, one of my friends surprised me with a birthday cake in my apartment while another braided my hair in my living room for the perfect twist-out. The day of my birthday, I was surrounded by so much love, fellowship, and special communion with Jesus. That season of my life was indescribable. Not to say that I did not appreciate the former years of college, but I had a renewed sense of hope for the latter. I believed there was so much more glory ahead in my final year. I felt that I had so much more to give to my friendships, my community, and my roles at the college. Then, the pandemic made its debut. And everything I had began to know and love was taken away. What I wrote in my last blog post about the early days of the pandemic was true. I enjoyed the stillness and the extra free-time I had on my hands to spend with Jesus. But once June arrived and the spread of COVID-19 wasn't decreasing, something broke in me. I began to think about what a virtual senior year would look like, and just the thought of it made me weep. I just knew that God wouldn't align my life the way He did just to break it apart. A few weeks later, the announcement was made. A virtual senior year was my reality. The morning that the Atlanta University Center announced that SpelHouse Homecoming was cancelled, I remember shutting the doors in my room, closing the blinds, curling up in my bed in a fetus position and endlessly weeping. If my memory serves me correctly, I cried myself to sleep. It was a cloudy, somber Sunday. I don't have much recollection of the day after noon. The announcement of the virtual year came a week later. I had already prepared myself for that heartache. Here's the thing: I had saved participating in a lot of experiences for my senior year, and I had hoped to re-do some experiences that did not go well. And when God gifted me with community, I had a feeling in my gut that my final year would be so supreme, running the final lap with a few of them who hadn't yet graduated. But instead, I moved into my single-bedroom apartment in August. I had imagined those walls being the safe haven where my friends would rest and take refuge. Being a Mississippi native, I know hospitality all too well. I value fellowship and activities alike. But the pandemic robbed me of the chance to create space to do any of that. Instead, my home stood still with no activity roaming within but mine, no laughter heard but my own, and no prayers decreed but the ones I uttered. And oftentimes, my prayers were met with a deep cry that would literally hurt my chest. And the truth is, nothing has changed. I still have my community, but seeing them through a screen is not the ideal way of loving them. I haven't seen most of my friends since before the pandemic, and that grief is unbearable at times. But the greatest grief of all? It's the way this chapter of my life at Spelman is ending. My final year has been spent in complete solitude. During the fall semester in my Atlanta apartment, the only in-person interactions I had were with maintenance and with the cashiers at the grocery store. I spent the remainder of the semester at home with family in Mississippi for the benefit of my mental heath. I find myself asking God this question a lot: "Why would You give me one of the greatest desires of my heart when You knew a pandemic was on the brink of arriving?" I couldn't even enjoy the blessing before it ended. And now I have three months left before I enter Spelman alumnae-hood and I might not even walk across the stage? I might not walk under the sacred Spelman arch? (It's a Spelman tradition!) "What is the reason for all of this suffering, God?" And while I'm trying to remember the God who I sing about — the One who's a man of His word and who promises a hope and a future — I can't break through this grief. It pulls me down. One moment I could be getting dressed on my way to the store listening to the uplifting artistry of Peter Cottontale, and the next moment I cannot stand, too overwhelmed by the grief that just hit me out of no where. The grief unexpectedly hit me today after watching one of my favorite television shows. Today marks the 10 day countdown to my 22nd birthday. I am home in Mississippi with no friends in sight, no plans to celebrate, and no desire to change that narrative. I had originally planned to spend my birthday in my Atlanta apartment safely with friends who would meet me there. But the plans fizzled when the new COVID strain hit, and some didn't feel comfortable traveling with the possibility of bringing something back home to their loved ones. While I completely understood the concern, grief followed. And it was a catastrophic experience. But the experience I had with God in my grief today inspired me to write this blog post. As I was breaking, I heard His voice so clear for this first time in a while. He said, "You need to let that season go. I am The Hope." I have realized that I have put my hope in so many other things. I've put my hope in people and in my institution when all along I needed to grasp that He is the promise. Everything on this earth can fade away, but He is the One who'll remain standing. The promised land wasn't my community or my blessing. The promised land is the place where I become more content and confident in Him. That's what I've been lacking. That's why this season of mourning is so extended. God wants me to reach this promised land by any means necessary, meanwhile I'm holding myself back, not wanting to let the former things pass away. Is God enough to satisfy me? That's the question of the day. People can't satisfy me. Wordly possessions or experiences can't satisfy me neither — only He can. But knowing that doesn't expel the condition of my heart. I am not at the "acceptance" stage in my grief yet. I haven't come upon the dawn of morning. Rather, I'm the little girl still holding onto the small bear while God is holding a bigger one behind Him. You've seen the meme, right? I'm trying to give this grief over to Him, but it's hard when there were so many moments I wanted to see and experience. There still are things I'd like to experience, but the outcome of that is in the hands of those who can fail me. So while I haven't reached day break as of yet, I'll redirect my hope towards Jesus and allow Him to help me find my way in the moonlight. He is my hope. He is my joy. He is my promised land. Scriptures: "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." — Matthew 5:4 "And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you." — 1 Peter 5:10 "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." — Romans 8:18 "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." — Romans 8:28 "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." —Psalm 34:18 "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." — Psalm 73:26 I remember the first church service I attended in 2020. I recollect how glad the saints were and how much expectation filled the sanctuary. Now, as this year is coming to a close and becoming a tale in history, I cannot wrap my head around all of the grief that this year has ushered in.
In the early days of the pandemic, I found myself sitting with God for much longer than ever before. I enjoyed the stillness. The extended time to commune with God made my soul at ease. While the outside world was in disarray, I was glad to be stabilized in faith. I remember penning prayers and writing honest reflections about the condition of my heart. I was nervous but not anxious. Surprised but ever hopeful. Calm but delighted about my future. But somewhere in all of the praying, persisting, and surviving I ran out of breath. I lost language to describe the grievances that came upon me. And for the first time since my baptism nearly seven years ago, I felt like God had abandoned me. I have learned that mourning is not just confined to kindred loss. I have mourned the plans I dreamed to see fulfilled. There was so much more fruit I wanted to bear. A desire to love harder and show up for the ones I love even more was my aim. Yet the absence of it all and the immobility I have felt has shaken me to my core, creating a saddened and somber spirit in me. Remembering that God is faithful through this time has felt like a chore because my grief has taken precedent. My heartbreak makes sense, whereas this moment in my faith does not. When entering my twenty-first year of living in February, just a month before our "new normal" made way, God spoke unto me a beautiful thing. He declared that this year was to be my "Heavenly Seated" year. The reasoning was this:
I have that paragraph penned, and I cannot tell of how many times I've questioned it. This year has cut me deep — probably deeper than any year prior — yet God has called me to remain Heavenly seated when I am losing my grip on hope for tomorrow? Seemed quite ludicrous. When surveying moments of my past, looking there rather than before me seems favorable. Better days seem behind me. Ahead of me, more unpredictable moments await me. This is why I am most hesitant. This is why I feel stagnant. This day requires a renewed spirit. A renewed faith. A renewed mind. And it requires God, who is the same God of my yesterday. Even with that truth known to me, I still find myself coming up short. And new questions follow. Why is this season so hard to bear? Why is it difficult to choose faith over fragility? Why do I appear to be losing more than gaining? At this point of the text, I hope that this reads as a companion who is trying to weather the storm rather than a woman of great faith who has it all together. I, frankly, do not. But I pray that I live long enough for my grandchildren to ask me about these days. It will remind me of the heartache that I’m feeling right now, but I will have so much gratitude in my eyes as I tell them my memory of God’s hand steadily upon me: Keeping me healthy. Keeping me financially stable. Being the God of provision, through and through. The hope that remains, through this daunting chapter in my story, is the remarkable truth that God may take, but He does not take all. This I know. Life still abounds around me. Purpose still calls me out. Friendships are still continuing and calling my name. When this year concludes, mourning will know me all too well. But so will God. After all, the greatest relationships are those that commune about all things. God knows my name and the matters of my heart, too. Jesus is still interceding for me. And all of Heaven is still rooting for me. I will overcome this, too. One day at a time. Dear God, Help. In Jesus' Name. Amen. Scriptures to meditate on: Hebrews 7, 1 Timothy 2, Psalm 46, Psalm 91 This is the hardest thing I have ever had to write. If I get any more transparent than this, I’m going to become clear. I had to make a joke to ease my nerves before I write this. Forgive me.
On December 15, 2013, I was baptized into the Christian Church and began my relationship with Christ. That day has gone down in my history as the best, most beautiful day of my life. I was only fourteen, but something in my heart knew that it would be the greatest decision that I would make in my life. I always honor that day when it comes around. I call it my "spiritual birthday", and I find myself crying extra on that day. The fact that God sent His only Son down to earth to save me on a "maybe" always wrecks me. Jesus sacrificed His life for me even though there was a possibility that I would never have a desire to know Him. On December 15, 2013, I publicly declared that He was real to me, and I felt the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit with me as I was submerged into the water and raised out. Every day since, I have prayed to grow more aware of His presence and make His heart my home. Almost a year later, in September 2014, I created this blog site. If you take a glance at my previous blog posts throughout the years, you would see my heart to reach God's daughters through my teachings of purity, conquering temptation, and God's unconditional love. On February 21, 2015, I announced to the world that I would commit to living a life of purity and save myself for marriage on my blog post "What My Purity Means". It was my first time engaging with the Bible so deeply, a period of over a month to be exact, and I broke down scripture and presented God's promise to all who read. I had just celebrated my sixteenth birthday. But amidst writing the posts on this blog up to my last entry in October of 2019, I was struggling with a sin so difficult to overcome that I would have never believed that I would be sitting down writing about my story of deliverance from that very sin. I was not committing to a life of purity like I proclaimed I was. I was far from it. Up until December 18, 2019, I was in a 10-year long battle with consuming pornography and indulging in masturbation. I do not know how the door of perversion opened for me. I don't know if it was accidentally clicking on a website or watching a television show or listening to music that glorified it. But it happened, and I dealt with it in silence for years until last December. My Testimony On December 15, 2019, I celebrated my sixth spiritual birthday. On that same day, I was releasing a very special project. A film I had been working on in my college class made its debut to my friends, family, campus community, and so many others that night. It was titled "The Well: Love Ran Red", and the project was about the love stories of two college couples and how the Blood of Jesus glorified and justified their togetherness, and ultimately, ran red on the Cross for them. What people do not know, though, is how that film freed me and was the beginning of my deliverance. From the conversations that were curated for the film to the editing process that took me weeks to perfect, my soul was being stirred and refreshed. Being a single woman creating a film like this, you would think that a little loneliness would creep up and make me sad, but it was the total opposite for me. The stories of April and Deshawn and Victoria and Johnzel gave me hope that God had a Holy Spirit-filled love story for me, but first, there was some heart work that had to be done on the inside of me. I was excited to continue in my singleness and love God better. But two days after the premiere of the film, on December 17, 2019, I fell again. But this time, I could not continue my day like it did not happen. I felt the Holy Spirit so strongly in my room that I had no other choice but to repent. And as I was repenting, the next thing I know, I was on my bedroom floor weeping, begging God to heal me and take the desire to masturbate away. I told Him about my insecurities. I told Him of my doubts that told me I would never be romantically pursued and loved. I told Him of my doubts that told me no love story existed for me. And I told Him, ultimately, how those issues are why I kept falling into that sinful cycle. Indulging in that sin was comfort. It was an escape from my reality. It felt good to be desired in a fantasy because I never had faith that I would be desired in real life. I then heard the voice of God speak over me in that moment and say, "You can not bring this sin into year seven. You can not walk into your next dimension being a slave to this sin. Let Me heal you." I can not tell you how long I spent on my bedroom floor in tears and filled with guilt and shame. I can not tell you how long I laid prostrate before God begging to make me whole. I can not tell you how long I stayed there questioning if I could even be healed but wanting to be so badly. The longest I had ever held out was a month. See, for years, I would fall and then tell God, "I don't think that I can ever be delivered from this". For years, I would google, "Is masturbation a sin?" even though I knew that nothing hidden in the dark and done in secrecy is holy. (And if I had to ask, I already knew the answer.) I would say to myself, "At least you're not actually having sex". I'd try to convince myself that as long as I wasn't having sex with somebody's son, then I was still walking in purity — even with this sin attached to me. For years, I knew that this was not pleasing to God, but I would do it anyway because of the grace that would be waiting for me after I fall. I took advantage of grace so many times. Every time I took advantage of His mercy, I broke His heart. But like a perfect and holy God, in my day of repentance, He did not close the door on me. Instead, He promised me a hope and a future, called me His beautiful and beloved daughter, and vowed to make me complete in Him if I would say, "Yes". I agreed to His offer of healing, and these past seven months have been the most transformative, liberating journey of restoration in my life. Four days after my repentance, on December 21, 2019, I entered into a fast that, unknowingly at the time, would last two months. Before I released "The Well", I knew that I wanted to go into a fast over the Christmas break up until the new year. But, at the time, it was with a heart to hear from God about my next project. But, the faithful and man of His word God that He is, He used that fast to deal with me — not my works. I fasted from social media and secular music until my twenty-first birthday, February 16, 2020. I chose social media and secular music for a couple of reasons, but here is the most simplest way to put it. I chose social media because I needed to disconnect and make lots of room for alone time with Jesus in order for me to heal. Secular music was an easy second because I was instructed to be very mindful of what I listened to and consumed. Content was not a part of my fast, but I was instructed to be very mindful of what watched. I will never forget that while I was home for Christmas, my family rented Best Man Holiday to watch as a family, and I absolutely love that movie — a Christmas favorite, actually, but I would take "bathroom breaks" every time a scene was approaching that I knew would trigger me. In order for me to be healed, I had to take the process very seriously or I was bound to fall again. And I did not want to miss out on what awaited for me in my next dimension of faith. With that being said, I must add that just as much as God knew how committed I was to being resurrected from the perversion, the devil knew as well. The first month was very hard. But for each time that temptation rose, God would bring to remembrance the future that He showed me when I laid on my bedroom floor surrounded by my tears and brokenness. I would not let myself go back to navigating the dark places of sexual perversion and being bound there. I had to be free. I longed to be free. It was my only option, and having that heart is what moved me to keep my gaze on Heavenly things, take my Heavenly seat, and starve my flesh. What also kept me was opening my mouth. The devil will make you believe that what you battle with is better to be fought alone. The devil will place shame in your heart because of it while God is ready to embrace it and help you overcome it. "As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us." Psalm 103:12. One night during the Christmas break, in the first days of my fast, God allowed the most special moment between my Dad and I to take place. Earlier in the night as a household, my family had a very intimate conversation about some personal things that were happening in our family. Breakthrough happened, and I was overcome with emotion - so much that my Dad would not leave my bedside until I went to sleep. As he sat there beside my bed, I felt the Holy Spirit tell me to confide in my father about what I was on a mission to overcome. My Dad and I have a very close relationship. He has always been open with me about his life before being called to marriage and ministry. In that moment, God was telling me to stop struggling in silence, but my mind was calling me crazy for even considering to let anyone — let alone a parent — be in the know about this "shameful" sin I was confronting. I overcame my fear and told my Dad the basic information of my struggle (because I was still so nervous to say anything at all) and the greatest revelation happened. My Dad began to tell me about the lustful struggles that have taken root in our family for generations. This thing I was struggling with was generational. It was a generational sin that I was entangled in. Everything made sense of why this sin had been so present in my life. It was a leech, and now, I would be the one to kill it. At that moment I knew that this journey of restoration would be bigger than me. It was my bloodline at stake. I decided to heal not only for myself, but for my future children, grand children, and great-grand children. And, also, I do not want to take this into my future marriage. The best part of this two-month fast — even better than saying goodbye to the toxicity that social media can be and expanding my Gospel playlists — was being presented with a mirror to see every area of my heart that did not look like His. Debunking Purity Culture I began to see the threatening relationship I had with purity culture. I use the word "threatening" because I had placed so much of my identity in my purity instead of in Christ. That is a scary place to be. My family never influenced my purity journey at all. It was me who became so captivated with it. I prayed for my future husband more than I spoke to Heaven about myself. I was nowhere near ready to be a wife like I thought I was. I am still not at a place where I believe I am ready for that covenant, just yet. There is so much heart work that still needs to be done. God showed me a time in college when I almost fell into sex, and I told one of my friends that if I would have done it, I would carry depression on my heart and never forgive myself. Condemnation does not reside in God's heart. I had a Gospel issue. I could not believe that His heart would be so grand for me, so open for me, and so forgiving of me. And while I still believe in the Biblical statue of purity and the importance to live up to the Kingdom standard when it comes to relationships, God has had to debunk so many false narratives I had written onto my heart. Here's three:
My Story of Overcoming What has kept me — especially since ending the fast? 1. Prayer - Want God more than you want to fall. Shameless plug, but shout out to the leadership team of the Passion Prayer Unit at Morehouse College. The people attached to that ministry are my family, and they have been my midwives in this season to help me push deeper into God's presence. I became a part of the leadership team in February of this year, but in no way did I feel good enough to help usher others into prayer when I was still learning the ropes. In the past 7-9 months, I have become so much more intimate with Jesus. Communing with Him has been essential to my healing. Being a part of the Passion Prayer community has made me a bolder intercessor not only for my peers, but for myself. I've learned how to ask God to keep me from me. PPU will never know just how much their prayers over me aided in my healing from the first time I entered in Danforth Chapel to our final service before the COVID-19 outbreak. God was so strategic and mindful of me when He had me cross paths with the ministry on that chilly Thursday night in October. 2. Good company - Speaking of community, let me tell you a little secret: Get you some good company. If I did not confide in my close friends about my struggles, I would not have had anyone to hold me accountable. We have a code word in our group chat where if any of us use it, we automatically shower each other with encouragement and prayer to keep carrying on. I am sure that I could not have healed in silence. I thank God for my sisters who make me feel safe. 3. Having a disciplined spirit - Let me make this clear as day: I still have desires. I still get tempted. Just because I am healed does not mean that the temptation has gone away. I have to fight every day to stay above water. I am desperately in need of God every hour, every second, and every minute. I need more of Him, actually. So, with that being said, I still know my triggers and acknowledge them fully. When I finished my fast on my birthday, nothing about my mindfulness changed. When I got back on social media, I unfollowed accounts that did not serve my spirit well. I muted certain language on Twitter. When I streamed my favorite R&B hits after months of only listening to Maverick City, Music, Tasha Cobbs-Leonard, and Psalmist Raine, I had to take a few off of the playlist that would bring me back. I still walk in discipline today. This will be a life-long journey for me. I battled this thing for a decade. I'm going to be in need of God for the rest of my life. Also, one of my favorite songs that became a staple for my healing was “Refiner” by Maverick City Music. The entire song is written as a petition to God to burn every thing out of us that do not mirror Him. The lyrics “burn me beautiful, burn me lovely, burn me righteous, burn me holy” has been my heart’s cry throughout this entire journey. And, for a resource, an article about Jesus as the refiner’s fire helped me understand why such prayers are spoken about being burned and the need for walking into the refiner’s fire. It is titled "He Is Like a Refiner's Fire" by John Piper dated November 29, 1987. A screenshot of this article has been the wallpaper on my phone’s home screen since, I believe, January. The specific text from the article that lives on my home screen says this:
I also would like to share a few resources that helped me overcome:
Divine Appointment December 17, 2019 will now go down in my history as the second best, most beautiful day of my life. July 18, 2020 made seven months since being restored. And on that night, God gave me a vision of women being attached to a community I would begin called “Her Divine Purpose”. I began seeing how God could potentially use my story to help heal women back in the early stages of my deliverance when I encouraged a friend who confided in me about her struggles. But on the seventh month mark, as I tried to sleep, God showed me a logo design for the community. Mind you, I forgot that the date was my seventh month anniversary. It slipped my mind all day. Before I knew it, dawn was approaching outside of my window. When I woke up for church the next morning, God instructed me to create the Facebook group. Then, the next day, on July 20, 2020, God told me that it was time to release my testimony. Before I could even wrestle with it, God showed me that July 20th made seven months since committing to the fast that aided in my healing. The next day, July 21, made seven months since beginning the fast that helped heal me, and now I would begin fasting on how to release this testimony for the healing of other women. The choice of sacrifice? God told me to give up every drink but water. God’s love has been a well that has never run dry for me, so it made perfect sense. I needed His Living Water to help me tell this story in the way that He would see pleasing to Him. Do you notice all of these number seven’s I’m pulling out? May I add that this is my seventh year in my relationship with God. Biblically, the number seven is the number of completeness. It is known that after seven days the whole world was completed and God has done his work.
So, as you can see, God has instructed me to write this now at this appointed time, and as I began to write this entry, the first few paragraphs were written nervously and fearfully. I feared what people would think — if I would be named a hypocrite for not practicing what I preached throughout the years. But as I come to an end in writing this testimony, I have a strong feeling that the releasing of this testimony will help heal more women than I could ever imagine. I am glad to not keep it to myself anymore. So, yes. I am a Christian woman who has struggled with pornography and masturbation. This particular struggle for women is not commonly discussed in God’s Church, but it should be. And I will spend the rest of my life making sure that it is — telling my story of His Glory and testifying in strength and courage about how He restored my life as a response to a simple, yet life-changing “yes”. Until my final breath, I will remind God’s daughters that being a slave to this sin is not the only option; I am the evidence. It has been seven months since I have been washed clean from this sin. I am finally whole. I am finally complete. I am finally free. And so is my future bloodline. The curse ended with me. You’re next. God, thank You so much for being so faithful to me. I do not, for one moment, deserve the magnitude of grace that you have gifted me with. Your Love is so deep; I will never understand it or find the adequate words to describe it. In the name of Jesus, I pray that You give every woman that comes across this post a sensitive ear to Your voice that calls them out of the sin they have made a home in, just as You have given me. Help her find satisfaction in You and only You. Strengthen her self-control, and make her abundant in it. Overflow her heart with Heaven’s secrets about her life. Give her new eyes to see herself in the way that You see her and a new heart that reflects Yours. I declare and decree that the years of slavery are over. Help her come out of every thing that has a hold on her, Jesus. I declare an eternal freedom to be her portion, not sexual immorality or any other sin that keeps her captive and deprives her of her Heavenly seat. There is no sin too ugly that You can not heal. I break the shame off of her back, now. I declare a supernatural healing to begin rising in her soul and shake every shackle off. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." — Psalm 73:26 #HeavenlySeatedYear #HerDivinePurpose So, here’s the thing. I am so super flawed that I will never be able to be in control of my life. Did that hit you the way it just hit me? And it sounds absolutely crazy to me because I am a planner. I love to write my dreams and desires of where I want to be five to ten years from now, and even though there is nothing wrong with that, it can easily get in the way of what God is trying to do for me right here in the present.
Did you know that you can block your own fruit? God desires for us to dream, but truthfully, He wants to dream for us because what He has for us to receive versus what we hope for... chile, what was I dreaming again? You may be in a season where things are a little blurry. God may have separated you from the fold. He may have “hidden” you. He may have disrupted every single thing that you thought were steady. You might be questioning God’s intention. You very well may be questioning this whole faith thing. I have something that God poured on my heart: God wants to position you. Do you notice why there aren’t as many people in your ear? Have you noticed you spend more time alone rather than with people, even rather than your closest friends? Have you found yourself alone on a Friday night when all you wanted to do is find a move? Don’t you know that that’s God’s intentionality to get you in a secret place with Him so that He can share to you some things imperative to your walk with Him? My Pastor described this in a metaphor. Imagine a group workout session versus personal training. When you’re in a large group, it’s hard to give a singular person attention. But when you are in personal training, your trainer is intimate and intentional when it comes to you. God has to limit who is around you, so He can boost you in Glory. He’s going to hide you, so only He can find you and make you “it”. And life is better when you’re “it” discovering purpose rather than being “it” trying to find God. So, I promise, God doesn’t have you out here looking crazy. He has you out here looking grounded. Confident on whose foundation you stand upon. Sure that your life isn’t your own and knowing that the Glory being manifested around you could only come from Glory. From Glory to Glory, right? God isn’t a God who would have His children suffer or be put to shame. But He’s a Father who isn’t giving up or walking out on His own. Love back the God who loves you well, who calls you His own even after you cast Him as a second thought. But there is nothing you can do that will ever separate you from what He has declared over your life. You are uniquely called no matter what battle you are facing. You are relentlessly loved no matter what sin you are struggling with. And you are so purposed no matter how doubtful you are of yourself. Tell those doubts that they are as empty as the tomb Jesus walked out from. Tell anxiety that it has to bow to God. You’re free no matter how lost, anxious, worried, or nervous you may feel. Freedom and joy thereof is your birthright. So look to the hills, soul child. You are already whole. You have everything you need for this season. Lack isn’t in God’s vocabulary. Brighter days aren’t coming, but they’re already here— waiting for you to arrive at peace and tap into them for the fruitfulness and the fullness that they are. Usually I add scripture to close, but this time, I want to add a bit of my worship playlist:
Writing was once my outlet. I allowed this space to serve me on my journey with Jesus. But now, I catch myself being so caught up with life— trying to figure out adulthood, balance college life and academics, be involved in many things on my college campus, working a job, serving my church and my community, and keeping Jesus first above it all. I often find myself questioning God more than I ever have these days.
I’m an analyzer, and sometimes, I over analyze. I try to figure out God, especially when seasons feel dry, like the one I’m currently in. I wonder how many Christ followers are able to unmask themselves, walk in transparency, and not only reply “God is good” when asked how they’re doing, but can also admit “I’m struggling”. I am one of the few. Yes, I see God moving around me. My faith isn’t unstable. Yes, I know that God is a provider, and He is a Father who is strategic and specific when it comes to me, but what if I still feel empty with the blessing? What if I can usually hear God, but this time, His voice is a little muffled? What if, even though God has shown up for me in many ways this week, I still feel depressed? What if He has called me to nations, and have positioned community around me, but I still struggle with loneliness? Is my heart lacking thanksgiving? And then God answered... at a prayer session on my college campus Thursday night. No, my heart is not lacking thanksgiving. It’s lacking position. There is this divine idea that God hides you in seasons, where He has put a limit on who has access to you. God knows how I can get in these times. I question everything. God, where are You? What are your plans with me? I feel alone. Surrounded. Guarded. Like, just let me out Jesus. Let me have what my heart desires. Aren’t my desires good? I’ve prayed for them. Fasted for them. I sought You first with them. So why do You have me out here looking crazy? Feeling like my hopes are a far fairytale, like my deepest prayers are just sitting. Still. Distant. Rare. And I know it seems crazy. The girl who is always posting her love letters to Jesus, writing encouraging messages on her Instagram story, the girl posting devotionals and scriptures and spontaneous worship, having issues with faith. You’d think everything’s all good in my hood. But God is not an aesthetic. It’s a relationship, and it’s hard. Dying to yourself daily to embrace God’s dreams for you, is hard. Trading your desires for His, is hard. But it’s all about heart posture. Alignment, for a better word. This hidden season is intentional, if you’re going through it like myself. Maybe He wants me away from the noise to give me those answers I’ve been seeking. I know that God is a jealous God, and often I find myself seeking His throne for my desires rather than seeking Him for Him. And often I also forget that this life is not mine. It’s all for the Glory of God, so I really have to turn away from self. So, God is definitely not an aesthetic. It’s wholehearted submission. Its crazy faith, the confidence that He knows what’s best for you— because truly, He does. It’s selflessness, despite feeling unheard. It’s trust, even when it hurts and you don’t understand. It’s surrender, even when pain feels better and doubt has convinced you to keep your burden yours. I’ve served broken. I’ve prayed for others while battling spiritual warfare in myself. I’ve called people to check on their spirit after mine had collapsed. Just because seeing and hearing victories in others brought a little faith that I would too, come out of this thing victorious. Most faithful God, if my desires don’t serve You in this season, I can wait. Perfect Father, if you need me alone for a while to speak to me, I won’t force it any other way. I can listen. Gracious God, if I am not on one accord with You, please realign my posture. I have to see You, hear You, feel You. Because I can’t block Your move. Help me to stay still, stay on fire, stay present in Your presence. God, just help me in this season. I know I’ll look back and see the Glory. It’ll all align, somehow. Just, help Jesus. Help me return home. Homeroom. With you. “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6 “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” Isaiah 43:2 Even when times are rough and you are in "deep waters" God will be right by your side, leading and guiding you through your worst. “My grace is sufficient for you.” 2 Corinthians 12:9 When everything around us seems to fail and we even fail ourselves, God's grace doesn't fail. His grace is enough to support us in all our brokenness. Read after "If I Make Room".
Foundation Scriptures: “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah 26:3 “Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” Romans 12:1-2 Reflection: The prayer is to receive God. Once I receive God, the pressing into His presence is necessary to become holy. Perfect peace flows to the one who keeps their mind stayed on the heavenly places. So if I stay in the presence of God, in every morning, fresh oil flows and covers me in this sacred pursuit of holiness. To be so imperfect, and to have fallen in His sight, but yet, to still so gracefully be pursued by a perfect God who is still willing to give me His identity is truly the greatest love story I’ve ever known. If I Acknowledge My Imperfection “Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work.“ 2 Timothy 2:21 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. Isaiah 55:8
2 Corinthians 7:1
If I Receive His Promises "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." Psalm 73:26 I cast down my flesh in my prayer so that I can become holy and receive what You have for me. When I press and receive what You have in store for me, sin becomes undesirable. Leaving Your presence becomes undesirable. That's why I always come back to You, Lord. That's why I enjoy abiding in Your presence. Because my flesh will never be pleasing in your sight, but my spirit can be. I can run to You to make me over. “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” Psalm 19:14
If I Confidently Submit "Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." James 4:7
What keeps me is my right mind is my pursuit of holiness. I enter the prayer not just asking for the bad thought to go away, but I am asking to be made holy. I am communing with God. Every day, I am living to be made holy. And because I carry His presence with me and draw near daily, God is making me holy. And God is loving on me through this journey so zealously. “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Hebrews 4:12
Declaration: “Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?” 1 Corinthians 3:16 In Your presence, If I stay, I know that You will strengthen me. If I stay, I know that I will have perfect peace. If I stay, I won’t cheapen what You have for me by entertaining sin. If I stay, I can purge anything out of me that is not like You, in Jesus’ name. If I stay, and if I cling tight, I will have authority to rule over my flesh because of Your supernatural power that You bestow in me. If I stay, You meet me here in the torn veil ready to receive me and make me holy; all I have to do is abide under Your wing. What a beautiful exchange this is. Prayer: Lord, I love You so much. I love being here in Your presence. Being with You is the sweetest place I could ever be. You are my hiding place. You are my refuge. I want to stay right here. I want to carry You with me in everywhere I go. I glorify all that You are. Thank You for being my Father and wanting to be near me. Thank You for Jesus-- the gift that keeps on giving. Thank You for waiting on me. Thank You for loving me and pursuing me, unraveling and wrecking me so gracefully, through and through. Lord, today I need Your help. Teach me how to live a life that is pleasing to You. I give You permission to purge anything out of me that distracts me from Your Word and the call that You have strategically placed on my life. I submit my flesh to You, and I declare it to bow to my spirit in which You dwell. In James 1:8 it is written that, "Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do." I refuse to have a double mind. Purge it out of me. I know that with You, nothing can keep me bound. I know that my Savior Jesus Christ tore that veil. So, I declare my spirit free from any sin that I am struggling with. I don't want to block what You want to do in me because I am dwelling in ways of the world rather than dwelling in You. God, I know that I am imperfect. Remove any shame or guilt that may reside in me for falling short of Your glory. Strengthen me, Lord. Perfect me, Lord. Do a new thing inside of me from my head to my feet. Make me holy. Make me new. In Jesus' Name. Amen. |
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