On this week’s episode of “I Didn’t Come Here for This,” I’m seriously considering firing my nail tech.
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Although the face and voice of the person was familiar, the spirit behind their behavior was not. So, this time, I noticed the deflection. I noticed the lack of accountability. I noticed the ignorance. I noticed the indifference. And I noticed the absence of an apology.
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There’s a difference between doing things for God, and doing things with God.
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This self-induced defense mechanism of spiritual regression wreaks so much havoc on your life as you attempt to protect yourself from anxious thoughts or feelings, and try to assure yourself that you’re psychologically safe.
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I was fully tuned into the sermon until the Pastor said: “Some of us are too fragile for God’s glory…We think being “chosen” or “called” is equivalent to receiving special privileges.”
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I’ve been beating myself up over the last few weeks because I’m currently repeating a spiritual test that I’ve taken before.
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For example, whenever there is a transition and/or shift happening in my life, it’s usually accompanied by other transitions and/or shifts.
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It felt like I’d won the war, but lost the battle. The only way I can describe how I felt is like the ending of the movie 300. Although the Spartans won, nothing was ever the same because they all died on the battlefield.
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That day, the evolution of my ministry stopped being plans inside the Notepad app on my phone and became a reality.
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In April, I began to feel a shift in my ministry. I noticed that I had begun to attract a different segment of women than I would normally attract.
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No matter the instructions, the outcome remained the same: God spoke. I disobeyed. Satan won.
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If I obey God and the result of my obedience isn’t welcomed by others, overflowing in success, plentiful in opportunity, abounding in favor, etc., I tell myself, “I must’ve misunderstood God’s instructions.”
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While watching the women in my family taught me perseverance, it didn’t teach me how to rest.
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As I discussed the situation with family and friends over the next few days, I discovered an open wound that I’ve unknowingly been carrying since 5th grade.
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It was a much needed reality check that the teenage boy I’d fallen in love with was a distant memory. It was time for me to acknowledge, even mourn, who my husband and I were, to appreciate who we are becoming.
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Because I always finish what I start, admitting defeat was very difficult. But it’s better to surrender, retreat, and try again, than to get beat up and still lose the fight.
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So, for the first few days of January, I started looking for a word. Every powerful thing I heard, watched or read, I tried to make it my word for the year.
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There were moments of tears, exhaustion, anxiety, sadness, pain, betrayal, sickness, and grief, but God is faithful. I survived it!
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There have even been at least three occasions I’ve told God, “I don’t care what you say. I’m sick of this, I’m saying something today. Enough is enough.”
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After some time, the members began to recognize me as Marcus’ wife. However, no one really knew me because I remained cordial, but not engaging.
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