THERAPY

I’ve walked through storms that didn’t announce themselves.   Faced accusations that felt louder than the truth itself.  Stood in rooms where shame tried to rewrite my name.   I didn’t crumble but there were days when I was close. Days I stood on the precipice willing my legs not to jump or run.  I knew God was there. Not just watching—but fighting for me. God was telling me constantly this week--I hear you, I understand how you feel now tell me, what is the truth.  “The Lord is on my side as my helper; I shall look in triumph on those who hate me.” —Psalm 118:7 This isn’t blind optimism. It’s covenant refounded faith that has been tried by everything including the hottest fire.   God doesn’t just stand beside me—He upholds me. “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.   I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” —Isaiah 41:10 Even when I feel overwhelmed, w...

  Proximity Is Not Intimacy Many walked beside Jesus.   Few truly knew Him. Proximity is physical. Intimacy is spiritual. It's connection. It is knowing God for yourself and if you want to get a little deeper--within yourself!  One can stand in the crowd, hear the parables, witness the miracles—and still miss the heart of the Messiah. Just like Judas did and that is why the posture of a mans heart was a topic of concern for our Lord. Remember the word of God says that where your treasure is, your heart will be also. It is a call to focus and to reaffirm. A call to keep your eyes fixed of Christ so that you do not sink in the wallows of the world.  Peter didn't walk on water because Jesus gave him some magical ability to do so. He did it because he trusted Christ and kept his focus on the Savior and not the storm.  📖 “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” —Matthew 15:8 This verse pierces the illusion: being near Jesus in ...

  You Can Go Into Covenant with the Enemy Too A Biblical Reflection on Misaligned Agreements and Spiritual Consequences Covenant is sacred. In Scripture, it is the divine framework through which God establishes relationship, protection, and purpose with His people. But covenant is not exclusive to righteousness. The enemy, too, seeks covenant—agreements, alignments, and partnerships that entangle, deceive, and destroy. The sobering truth is this: you can go into covenant with the enemy, and many have, often unknowingly. What Is Covenant? Biblically, a covenant is more than a contract. It is a binding agreement sealed by words, blood, and loyalty. God’s covenants with Noah (Genesis 9), Abraham (Genesis 15), and Israel (Exodus 19–24) were marked by promises, responsibilities, and divine presence. But covenant is not limited to God’s people. Scripture reveals that ungodly covenants—with idols, nations, and demonic powers—carry real spiritual consequences. Biblical Examples of Covenant...

I pray different. I praise different. Even when everything is coming down, I can look to God and say, “Well Lord, if it comes down, that means You have a divine plan for rebuilding.” God is fully capable all by Himself, so I say, “Lord, I know this might hurt, and I will probably cry and feel slighted, but You have the panoramic view, so I trust You.” I pray for my Moses, Aaron, and Hur so that I can win the battle against my Amalekites—and one day be a Moses, an Aaron, or a Hur for someone else [full story Exodus 17]. Sunday night, I felt the weight of a decision—and the lack thereof—fall on my head. I felt guilty because I knew, before the flooding, that the drips I ignored would result in damage I wouldn’t be able to undo. Not by myself, anyway. In my panic, I reached for a hand, and in the midnight hour, I sent a panicked message to a church sister asking for help. Even before that, I reached out to a man who, despite certain things, I considered a "friend"—because of his...

  l feel the complexity of having joy while the world crumbles as it is meant to and you watch it in pain, angst because you don't know what to do.  Shall I kiss and close my eyes as we become the only light or do we stop our breath exchange, and flail about hoping to save that which is already gone and done.  I say you have chosen correct.  To be still is essence, to experience fully is not flawed. Your mission is not to fade with it but help others within it become whole. I hope you understand this is my peace offering to your soul, tonight. God is completely capable to rescue the soul of any man.  “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” —John 1:5

Your mistake is thinking your worth is tied to what you have or own—or worse, what you think you lack. We’re not the same, you and I.  My worth comes from greater. More. Wealth and sufficiency. Because Greater is He that is in me. [1 John 4:4] and I dont consider it a isolated scripture or a bracketed lesson.  I didn’t heal on my own. I healed alone.  Isolated. On my knees before His Word. On my face in a pool of my own tears. And He’s still healing me. Here’s the optics: I’m confident—but more than that, I have Godfidence. I’m still healing, but I am whole. What makes you think I’d let you belittle or break me? I’m not your average anything. Quit trying to place me in the space you thought you saved for me.   Stop placating my identity with titles and subtexts you’ve read before or fabricated mindlessly. You may desire. You may even covet. But my authenticity cannot be held, tamed, or trimmed by your inability to see beyond the shallow terrain of your own mind....

Breathe through the pain.   Plant your feet flat on the ground. Anchor yourself.   Hold fast to the hands you know will reinforce you—even as you crush them—because something full is ripping through you. "Be still, and know that I am God." —Psalm 46:10   "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you." —Isaiah 43:2 Go through it.   Breathe deeply.   Trust your lungs to carry you, your bones to stretch and accommodate the release—because you must give birth. "The Spirit helps us in our weakness." —Romans 8:26   "You will not labor in vain." —Isaiah 65:23 Real talk:   Nothing prepares you for childbirth. And there’s no pain I know that comes close—except maybe the pain of betrayal, or the breaking caused by psychological abuse. That’s only because those wounds reach beyond the body and test what the soul can withstand. Now imagine you’re pregnant—not with a bab...

I tried something different today—something rooted in habits I’ve been cultivating for a while now. I set my mind on impossible things, knowing that on my own I couldn’t possibly accomplish them. But I did as God instructed, initiating the start of these deliverance ministrations through faith. I set my mind on miracles—and if I’m being honest, I set my heart too. I know the God I serve is the God of Ezekiel, who made dry bones live. That goes against everything logical and natural, but God did it. > “So I prophesied as He commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.”   > —Ezekiel 37:10 That miracle was the very definition of an impossible feat, yet it was executed marvelously by a miracle-working God. I told my children the story of a boy birthed in pain. His name even alluded to suffering, but with a single prayer, he changed his destiny and everything attached to him. His name was Jabez. > “Oh, that You would bles...

I don’t lean on anything human. You can’t let me down—because you were never my source. Last night, I wept as I prayed and worshipped. My body felt weak, but the strength of God carried me. I know I come off cocky sometimes, but it’s not pride—it’s confidence in the One who holds me. I boast in His love, in the way He steadies me. On my own, I’m not much. But with God at the helm, the center, the head of my life—I become everything I was meant to be. I don’t personally have anything to boast about. My life, on its own, doesn’t shine with accolades or ease. But what I do have is the undeniable evidence of God’s grace. He is my boast, my anchor, my reason. The truth? My story has more valleys than mountain tops. I’ve known heartache intimately. I’ve felt betrayal in almost every form. I’ve been struck down, dismissed, and treated like I didn’t matter. Pain is familiar—grief even more so. There were moments I wanted to walk away from God. I’ve carried more responsibilities than I had reso...

Yesterday, I took a step back with the intention of looking ahead. My mind—a crumpled litter of tasks, chores, and worries I needed to get to. I paced in my brain as my thoughts ran wild, quickly categorizing deadlines, laminating ideas, and filing away things that threatened the system. I'm not feeling well today. I woke up tired and carried on tired, then did a grocery run and came back to a messy house and porridge left to simmer for nearly an hour that had begun burning. I was already on edge before I climbed the steps because my boss caught a tone with me. I had to call a vendor before I even hopped out of the taxi because I felt like I don't move quickly enough for her—even when I am operating at lightning speeds. And sometimes the way she talks to me is—well, it makes me want to get another job. That, on top of everything else. Good things don't seem to last around me, huh?   Sigh. I decided to declare that that is a lie. Goodness and mercy shall follow after me, eh?...

 I’m already three days into the third week of August.   Now, for some reason, it feels as though time is running out. I was up until sometime after 5 a.m. this morning, designing the cover for my next book. I wrote it a long time ago, and unlike You Remain, I felt like the concept was missing something. I felt like there was no way to truly end it—so I decided then to turn it into a series. But as I re-read and edit, I want it to end—and end clean and certain. In the same way You Remain ended. Instead of drawing the story out, I decided to pivot and make it something more tethered to who I am and the way I write—even if the story is truth laced with fiction. You Remain was a labor of love that I completed within two weeks, even though the initial write-up was almost a year ago. I had published this second book before—it was the first book I ever published—but I hadn’t really done the groundwork necessary to earn the right to publish it. It was messy and lacked structure....

🛡️ With the Armor of Jesus Christ, You Are Covered to Conquer!   Oooh, that has a kick to it 😁 There are days when the battle feels invisible but relentless—and I know you may not want to hear this, but you have to be relentless too. You have to be shameless in your fight and persistent in your pursuit, because given the opportunity, the devil—or should I say the enemy—will hang you. He will place your head in a guillotine and let the blade fall. When the weight of discouragement presses in and the whispers of doubt grow louder, you must be brave enough to either echo back with scripture or kneel in your war room—where the prayers are quiet, but they still won’t know what hit them. And by “them,” I mean principalities and powers, rulers of the darkness of this world. I never walk into moments of warfare unarmed. I walk clothed in Christ—aimed and ready to fire. But it wasn’t always that way. I used to fight against flesh and blood, and I always lost. Then I outsourced the fi...

I don’t believe He’s brought me this far to leave me. People often assume that when God shows you things concerning others, it automatically comes with insight into your own life. Sometimes it does—but not quite in the way you might think. More often, it’s a few troubling things that never make much sense. Things I pray against but rarely decipher. There are times when God shows me the God things—like a future that feels substantial, or how the present is closely linked to something perpetuating through generations. Those glimpses are rare, but they’re real. I wish God showed me great things for my life more often. But I’m usually left to foster that vision on my own—by speaking life over myself, declaring His promises, and trusting that He will make good on His Word. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” — Jeremiah 29:11 The truth is, sometimes—most times—it will be dark.   No...

I don’t have any encouraging words today.   And maybe that’s okay. This morning, I woke up expectant. I had been waiting patiently for my salary, trusting that it would come through. I’ve been on a prayer, Bible study and fasting mission for the past two weeks—seeking God, weeping before Him, receiving revelation after revelation. I truly believed I was stepping into breakthrough. Instead, I was told—just moments ago—that I won’t be paid this month. Almost wo months ago, they accidentally paid me twice. I saw it immediately and told them. I didn’t hide it. I didn’t misuse it. I assumed they’d sort it out, since it was their mistake. I trusted the system. I trusted the people. Trusted that they would tell me when they would withhold pay in lue of the error.  But today, without warning, they decided to do a kick back.   No heads-up. No courtesy. No time to prepare.   Just silence until now. In-fact if I hadn't sent a memo about not seeing my pay posted t...

I woke up feeling sad today. My mood—a weary blue—with sleep calling me from within. I felt faint and sick, but I pushed through my morning prayers and sat with my Bible as I did my meditations. A meditation that reminded me of how much I am lacking and how much I am nothing. I knew it wasn't God's voice, but I still acknowledged my failures and all the time I've wasted and took note of my lack of stewardship over the years and how all of these things affected my outcome. Though the voice raged at me in the private places of my mind, I highlighted God's grace that made it okay for me to cry. I could have done better, for sure—there's no debating that—but I also could've done worse with the starting point that I had. And the support I had? Well, in most cases, there was none. I took note of the consequences of my actions and lack thereof. If only I had done this or that. If only I had not done this and not done that. One thing is certain: I have come a far way an...

Dear Life Line, I never imagined one sentence could unravel something so sacred. It happened in the quiet hum of the office, where routine masks longing and restraint. He’s the kind of man whose presence commands silence—not with arrogance, but with reverence. Disciplined. Principled. The kind of man whose every decision seems filtered through a deep, unwavering relationship with God. I admired him from afar, then closer, then too close. We were alone, reviewing a project late into the evening. The air between us had always been charged, but respectful. Until I said it, something unthinkable. "Yes, but only if you crush my lips in a fevered kiss." It slipped out like a dare, but it was a confession. A plea. A moment of reckless vulnerability. I wish I could call bavk the moment I released it. His eyes met mine—startled, wounded, he didn't seem tempted—but he said nothing. Since then, he’s avoided me like I carry contagion. No morning greetings. No shared laughter. Just si...

No more debate. No more wait. You've delegated enough. Procrastinated enough!  You have a responsibility to finish strong.   Your start may not have been the best, and the journey rocky to say the least, but you still have a responsibility to finish strong. You must end with a note that says: I showed up. I lived. I conquered. Don’t start with the end in mind—begin with a vision for your journey. The destination is all well and good, but just imagine traveling with your eyes closed, pressed not to open them until you get there?!   It means you never get to pivot. You are not in control of anything—not even what happens along the way—because you’ve decided you want to be surprised when you arrive. You’re so fixed on the end that you didn’t value anything else in between—not even the lessons that could have made the panoramic shot that much better.   All you have then is a portrait: scaled small and far, or too close up. I suppose that’s good too. But if...

I remember when no one cared. When I disappeared and no one noticed. When I screamed but the sound did not travel to the ears of anyone. When I walked towards the light but hearts didn't reach for me.  This time I disappeared but not out of shame. I wasn't in pain but I was in change.  I was dedicated to my own journey now.  I studied to show myself—to be approved (by God).  I walked, as I had become accustomed to walking—alone! I didn't need the formalities of familiarity. The "How are you?" With no real desire for an answer or an answer which was not fitting or approved. An answer which carried weight and made people want to say "It is well" or "You'll be okay!" and "I'll pray for you."  The expressions that made you feel bothersome, lonesome or just outright rejected.  This time I laughed and stayed still and paused. There was no unique urgency but this time my soul hungered greedily for the word.  I had paid my penance to ...

It was in the way he touched you. The way he made you feel—you weren’t too much, too damaged, too functional within your survival.  The parts of you that had been bruised by silence were finally being seen without criticism.  You didn’t mean to fall. You only leaned in just a little as his heart beckoned in its uncertainty for what his soul wanted with just enough warmth to make you feel indespensible. Just enough to get drunk on the softness and to want to stay there in the fleeting tide of his love. He asked questions no one had asked before. Listened like your story mattered, but he doesn't love you. He did it for himself, to elevate his pedestal that was cut down by his self serving stature.  I could be wrong and maybe you do hold weight in his heart but his brokenness cannot hold you. Though maybe this time is different.  Perhaps I am wrong, but somewhere between the laughter and the lingering glances, a quiet voice inside you stirred, fearful, chilled with wisd...

Not quite the perfect start I was hoping for, but a start no less and a damn good one too! I have made this vow to myself before, time and time again actually. There were times when I started and failed and there were times the intention was just that; a thought with absolutely no action. And just like that I am 37and my life is a mundane routine of responsibilities and roles I never wanted. God has been good though. He's heard my prayers even though in the moments I cried out I was sure he didn't. The past 36 years has been a lot of hell. There's so much I wanted to do but never had the discipline to get them done. I want so much more now and I am ready to do what it takes to steward my dreams. My mind is alive with colour (yes I spelled color with a "u", come off it man!) and I see stories on every blank surface like a hapless madman. This must be what it feels like to come out of a coma, to emerge from a darkness that was the shell of your existence. A shell th...