Lights & Truth

Tag: personal-growth

Where Creation Collapses

December 10th, 2025

When we choose to act outside of our original design, we choose a life of consumption. Consumption on its own isn’t evil—God Himself is called a consuming fire (Deut. 4:24, Heb. 12:29). But when we live in a constant state of consumption, when it becomes our identity rather than a tool, the end of that path is always destruction. Consumption removes what’s in the way so something new can rise… but if we let it take the lead, it will remove far more than it was ever meant to touch.

The root of consumption is desire. And when desire stops being directed upward—toward purpose, truth, and God—we fall.

Many spiritual texts use the “heart” to describe the inner seat of emotion, but Scripture also speaks to the idea that the body carries multiple “centers” of knowing. One of those is what some call the “stomach brain”—the enteric nervous system. It’s directly shaped by emotion. This is why anxiety hits the stomach first. Why fear twists the bowels. Why so many of us end up thinking with our stomachs long before our minds ever enter the conversation.

This is usually where the spark of consumption begins—deep in the bowels.

A small flame.

A hunger.

A pull.

And like any flame, it looks for fuel.

Left unchecked, that flame will keep growing until it needs more than we can provide. And when it grows beyond us, it begins to burn the things around us. This is why Scripture’s description of hell as the “bowels of the earth” is so fitting—because when we live in a constant state of consumption, it truly does feel like an unending internal torment. A fire that never stops eating.

But here’s the truth: consumption was never meant to be a lifestyle.

It’s a means—a temporary act that clears a path for renewal. When used properly, it is part of God’s will. God consumes the false layers we wear so our true identity can be revealed. He purifies us from the parts of ourselves that were never meant to define us.

The danger begins when we become the consumer.

When consumption becomes an identity instead of a temporary process.

When we forget who we are and only see what we lack.

A life shaped by that identity will eventually lead to poverty, addiction, infidelity, resentment, and hatred. It always starts small… harmless… manageable. But if left unchecked, it grows into an uncontrollable desire that redefines how we see the world.

The clear opposite of consumption is creation—but creation feels impossible when all we recognize around us is waste. To break the cycle of consumerism, we must recover the virtue that stands between destruction and creation:

Temperance.

Temperance is more than denying ourselves luxuries; it’s the restoration of internal authority. It’s reclaiming our ability to direct our desires instead of being dragged by them. When we are deep inside the blaze of consumption, temperance feels like a single drop of cool water. And a single drop against a wildfire is not enough.

This is why we need others.

Those who walk with us bring their own drops of water—encouragement, truth, accountability. But honesty is essential. If we are dishonest about the size of our flame, the people trying to help us will get burned. Not because they aren’t strong, but because they were fighting a fire they couldn’t see.

This isn’t a warning to isolate ourselves.

It’s a reminder: the flame is not us.

We’re just trapped inside of it.

So the first step toward escaping consumption is simply to see the flame for what it is. Once we recognize that it is not our identity, we can begin to move toward becoming creators again.

Start small.

Find a single place in life where a seed of hope still exists.

Put energy there.

It won’t feel good—reshaping a life never does. And if comfort is what we seek, we’ll slide right back into the patterns that consumed us. But if truth is what we seek—if we surrender the version of ourselves built out of fear—God will begin to place the right people in our lives. People with living water in their hands.

When they arrive, lead with honesty.

Yes, we’ve been burnt before.

And yes, letting others in feels dangerous.

But whether we choose the fire or the water, we will feel pain.

The difference is simple:

One path leads to redemption.

The other leads to destruction.

Which will we choose today?
The Roots of Creation

December 8th, 2025

There was once a great tree that stood alone in a field. It stretched toward the sky, its branches heavy with sweet fruit. Within the tree lived a family who had dwelt there for generations. The tree fed them, sheltered them, and kept them warm in a cold world.

For as long as their history reached, this family journeyed out into the world to observe life and bring back stories. Some even returned with gifts from distant lands.

One day an adventurer returned with news of a faraway place where families lived not in one shared structure, but in many small ones—each with space of their own.
“Well, the family has grown,” the father said. “Perhaps we should make use of the land around us.”
So they cut down a branch from the tree and built smaller homes.

As they expanded, they built farther and farther from the tree, for its great roots made it impossible to lay foundations too close.

Another traveler eventually returned, carrying exotic vegetables and fragrant herbs. He showed how these new treasures could expand their meals.
“These taste incredible…but how will we get more?” the father asked.
The traveler presented foreign soil and seeds. Knowing what needed to be done, the family cut another branch and built gardens. The foods grew, and they rejoiced.

Then came a third traveler with stories of war in a distant land. He described an enemy invasion and the weapons used to fight them off.
The father grew afraid. “What if someone came to harm us?”
Driven by fear, the family cut down branch after branch until the tree stood barren. With the wood they built high walls and stockpiled weapons, preparing for a threat that had never arrived.

Years passed. The family forgot the tree that once sustained them.
Still barren, it remained standing—silent, unmoving.

Then a great storm came.
The homes were too weak and collapsed.
The foreign crops withered, unable to survive the climate.
The walls, built to protect them, caved inward and crushed many.
The weapons they forged could not defend them from the wind.

When the storm ended, the survivors cursed the land. They looked at the lifeless tree, saw no value in it, and moved far away. And once again, the tree stood alone in the field.

Years later, an old traveler returned—one who had delayed coming home because he had nothing new to show. But when he arrived, all he found was the tree.

He took refuge within it, gathering scraps left scattered on the ground and rebuilding a home inside its hollow.
In time, the tree began to grow new branches. It bore fruit again.
The traveler felt at home.
The tree was grand once more.

Last week we touched on the difference between being a consumer and being a creator. Today we dive deeper.

It is in human nature to create. It is also in our nature to want more. Neither force is wrong—they are simply part of our design. But the distinction matters because we are always choosing one or the other, consciously or not. Life is movement, and every choice sets another in motion.

The Preacher reminds us in Ecclesiastes that all things under the sun fade—that our greatest works will eventually be forgotten. Yet even in their impermanence, the actions of creation and consumption shape the experience we call life.

Consumption is a cycle without end, driven by desire without gratitude.
Wanting more is not the issue.
It is the lack of gratitude that corrupts us.

When caught in consumption, we mistake abundance for lack. We believe ourselves empty even when our hands are full. We cling to fears that were never ours, and those fears drive us to consume even more.

Eventually, we exhaust our own resources. Then we exhaust the people around us. Consumption does not care what it takes—only that it continues. And the more it is fed, the more it grows.
Life becomes external.
We stop thinking clearly.
And the only way out is to look inward.

Creation is the opposite movement.
When we shift our energy toward creation, fear transforms into possibility.
From the outside, it may appear as appetite or ambition—but inside, the spirit becomes full. The fruits of our labor become secondary. Often we forget we’re even creating at all.

Creation generates more creation.
A small act of kindness becomes a harvest of unexpected outcomes.
Yet even then, we are not meant to cling to the achievement. It is still only a moment—one meant to be enjoyed and then released. What matters is the joy of building, not the permanence of what was built.

As you enter the week, hold these questions close:

Where have you been creating?
Where have you been consuming?

Next, we will explore how to recognize the signs of unhealthy consumption.
For now, look closely at your actions in this moment and ask:

“Does this promote growth, or is this just a means to an end?”

There is no end.
Only the gift of this moment and what you choose to build within it.

Which side will you choose today?
Where Fear Ends and Trust Begins

November 28th, 2025

Complacency and contentment are not just words — they are actions. And like every action, they begin as thoughts and eventually manifest in our lives. Because of this, we have to examine the thoughts that give birth to these two actions: fear and trust.

In every moment, one of the two becomes the lens we use to make our choices. That choice shapes how we interact with the world around us. But even then, it’s important to remember: you are not your choices, and every moment eventually passes.

When someone becomes complacent, it does not mean they are a lazy person. Laziness is a label, and labels belong to categories — but you do not. Fear is what tries to place you into categories. Fear is the enemy of our wholeness, and we should strive to discern between fear and the other thoughts that move through us each day.

Fear is not a created thing, so for us to recognize it, it must appear in a form familiar to us. Fear wears the mask of comfort, of wisdom, of knowledge. It tries daily to convince us that it has our best intentions in mind — but nothing could be further from the truth.

As we will explore in future topics, the uncreated cannot exist without creation. So fear needs us in order to live. It cannot simply take all of our life force, so it draws it out slowly and subtly, hoping to go unnoticed. Fear places us into what feels like an endless tunnel. It tells us not to move forward because only pain awaits us. It tells us that there is no light ahead.

We turn around and try to retrace our steps, and fear reminds us exactly how we got here. This state of inaction is what we call complacency.

But even in complacency, we are still moving — still choosing. We’re just choosing to do the same thing again and again because fear convinces us there is no other way.

We hold that belief in front of us as truth…

but what if there is a better way?

One of the greatest tricks the enemy uses is to keep us from seeing — or better yet, to keep us from looking at all. And when we finally do look, we often try to force what we see into our familiar categories so we don’t have to change our worldview.

But what would happen if instead of trying to stay afloat in the world you built for yourself… you allowed yourself to sink?

What if you walked deeper into the tunnel instead of retreating from it?

Not recklessly, but because you believe there is something more than what fear is presenting to you?

This theme appears throughout Scripture: to seek God is to desire more. This desire isn’t a flaw — it’s part of the design.

But to seek God, we must untether ourselves from the familiar and give ourselves fully to the unknown. This is what Scripture calls surrender. This is where trust begins. And trust is not a destination — it is the beginning of everything God intends to unfold.

We don’t always need to understand the fine details. We only need to believe one thing: the world is bigger than the individual, and accepting that frees us. When we trust God, we walk without anxiety. Not carelessly, but free from the fear that follows every pursuit of “more.”

We begin to believe in the promise written within us, and over time, we trust that our actions can lead to better outcomes.

Although we use “battle” language in spiritual warfare, there is one thing we want you to remember: the battle is already won if you choose to believe it’s won.

That doesn’t mean we become complete overnight. We remain human, and every moment still requires a choice:

fear or trust.

complacency or contentment.

the isolated self or the wider whole.

Like Adam and Eve, we often see ourselves as flawed and wonder why we should invest in the idea of the individual at all. But we were created good. We chose evil — but our actions are not our identity. They are simply choices made in moments.

We can always repent — turn — and move forward.

Or we can dwell in the house of pain and repeat the original sin of self-reliance and fear.

As we close this series, take a moment to reflect on this:

“Where am I living from fear in my life, and where can I trust more?”
When Comfort Imitates Contentment

November 26th, 2025

Comfort, Fear, and the Narrow Lens of Life

The story of the fall of man is vivid in imagery and full of wisdom about our condition. It wasn’t just the eating of the fruit that caused humanity to fall — it was their reaction afterward.

The moment Adam and Eve heard God’s voice, they hid.

That is what complacency does. It breeds fear, and then it convinces us that fear is safer than possibility. We settle into it like a home. We shut the door. We shut out new ideas, new opportunities, and even the presence of God.

We start placing all our faith in what we already know.

We begin to assume outcomes before taking any steps at all.

We tell ourselves: “What’s the point? I already know how this ends.”

And without realizing it, we slowly drain our own motivation.

We get stuck.

We blame circumstances.

We blame life.

We blame everything except the small fear we’ve made our home.

But because of grace, we’re never left without a way out.

Job: The Honest Side of Contentment

In the book of Job we witness a man who seemingly has it all and is genuinely grateful for what God has given him. Then in the unseen realm, Satan challenges Job’s integrity, insisting that Job’s righteousness exists only because his life is comfortable. And God allows the test.

Job begins strong. He worships. He trusts. He blesses the name of the Lord.

But as the losses continue — his family, his livelihood, his health — the internal fight becomes real.

Job begins questioning God.

He curses the day he was born.

He debates justice.

He demands answers.

He feels abandoned and unheard.

And his friends become reflections of his inner turmoil — repeating versions of his own thoughts back to him.

This is the truth we need to acknowledge:

Even the most righteous man can feel the pull of complacency.

Not laziness — but the desire to withdraw, to protect oneself, to stop expecting anything good from life.

Contentment didn’t prevent Job from reaching that place.

It just gave him something to return to.

When God finally speaks, He does not explain the test.

He reveals His sovereignty.

He shows that everything has a place in a design far bigger than Job’s understanding.

And in that moment, Job’s posture changes.

He returns to humility, gratitude, and trust — not because the pain is gone, but because his perspective is restored.

A Moment Is Just a Moment

A moment is just a blip in the vastness of eternity.

It is neither personal nor impersonal — it simply is.

“Everything has a time and a season.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1–8)

That truth can sound like an excuse for complacency, but when you sit with it, it actually becomes a call to live more fully.

Think back to being a kid and watching the rain ruin your plans.

At first, you sit there frustrated.

But eventually, you start to find new things to do — a toy you forgot about, a game you invent, a chore that somehow becomes fun.

That shift is gratitude.

And gratitude opens the door to contentment.

Contentment doesn’t settle for “this is all there is.”

It accepts the present moment while staying open to the moments God has yet to bring.

It widens your view.

It restores curiosity.

It invites purpose back into your life.

To be content is to trust something far bigger than yourself.

A Thanksgiving Reflection

As we approach Thanksgiving, it’s the perfect moment to ask:

“What in my life am I confusing comfort with contentment?”

This isn’t about regret.

It’s about awakening gratitude.

Let’s be grateful in all things — for the joys, and for the lessons.

For progress, and for pruning.

For victories, and for the strength built in hardship.

Set aside a moment and ask:

“Is there something I’m comfortable with that actually brings me pain, but I keep calling it happiness?” “Am I choosing ease over growth?” “Though this moment hurts now, could it be building something deeper in me?”

Nothing meaningful grows without effort.

These questions aren’t simple, but they are freeing.

If you feel led, share your stories of gratitude and growth with us.

We’d love to hear them.
Contentment Moves, Complacency Waits

November 24th, 2025

The Dreamer and the Fool

There were once two farmers who lived as close neighbors on treacherous land. The soil there was hard and stubborn, and because of this it was common to grow only the most resilient crops—beans, mostly. One of the farmers often had adventurous dreams about creating raised gardens that could grow any kind of crop he wanted. He dismissed these dreams year after year, but they continued returning, becoming heavier on his mind.

One day, during casual conversation, he shared one of these dreams with his neighbor—more for entertainment than anything else. But as he told the story, the neighbor grew excited by the possibilities of what the dreamer had seen. The dreamer laughed it off the moment he finished. After all, they were stuck with the land they had. Nothing could be done about it.

The next day, the dreamer saw his neighbor outside spending hours building the very garden bed he had dreamt about. He shook his head, thinking the neighbor a fool for wasting time instead of tending the crops he already had. But the fool saw things differently. He knew beans didn’t require much care to thrive, so instead of standing idle, he used his extra time to try something new.

Weeks passed as the fool continued his work, ending each day by tending his simple crops. Months passed as the dreamer watched him labor with no clear reward. To the dreamer, all this effort would be fruitless—so why waste so much time?

A year later, the dreamer came out of his home and much to his surprise saw new plants growing—plants he had only ever seen in his dreams. Soon after, the fool began harvesting the fruits of his labor. The dreamer watched him enjoy his new life and longed to share in it. But whenever he asked for some of the new crop, the fool asked for an exchange. The dreamer had nothing but beans.

Resentment began to grow in his heart. He felt the fool owed him something for using his dream. That resentment slowly fermented into hatred, and the hatred into silence. Eventually they stopped speaking. Years passed, then decades. When the dreamer reached old age, he told his descendants about the sins of the fool, using it as a warning: it wasn’t just the land that was treacherous—the world itself would hurt them too. And so the family depended only on themselves from that point forward.

The Difference Between Complacency and Contentment

This week’s topic is contentment versus complacency. These two words feel similar, but in reality they could not be more different. They may use similar language, but they offer completely different outcomes. Through the lens of complacency, it is easy to see ourselves as victims of circumstance. Through contentment, we are able to enjoy life regardless of circumstance. One keeps us stagnant, while the other invites us to keep moving forward. One makes everything look the same; the other opens a sea of possibilities. One offers pain but calls it comfort. The other offers comfort but is often mistaken for pain. Life is a series of choices between the two, and as you will see, those choices dictate exactly how successful we become.

How Complacency Keeps Us Stagnant

Complacency is often confused with contentment, but its implications are drastically different. Like stagnant water, it begins to gather contaminants over time. When we choose complacency, we blame outside circumstances for our current state of being. While we encourage acceptance, we do not advocate stagnation. This is the danger of externalizing what is happening internally. It is easier to blame people and situations than to look inward.

This does not mean you deserve blame more than others, nor does it mean external circumstances don’t exist. But the reality is this: anything that exists outside God’s original plan only continues if we choose to keep it there. Any form of oppression, hardship, or depression can change the moment we choose to act. The problem is that complacency convinces us we are already trying. But complacency is never action. It is inward inaction disguised as outward effort.

Because of grace, we receive dreams of a reality that already belongs to us. But instead of pursuing them, we often give them away to others and then resent their success. If others fail, we use it to justify our inaction. If they succeed, we feel owed something—forgetting that we ourselves never took a single step toward the dream.

Contentment: The Freedom of Surrender

Contentment also involves acceptance, but instead of shutting ourselves off, we surrender control back to God. Like a river, it flows naturally and maintains purity. This surrender is what breaks the cycle of complacency. Contentment allows us to see beyond ourselves. It opens doors instead of closing them. It invites movement without regret and creates momentum toward a better future. Ironically, a content person does not even cling to this future—they understand that dreams often die, but God’s promises never do.

To the content person, only the present moment matters. Not because they are blind to time, but because they trust God with all of it. The outside world will call this foolishness, but this is the path of true peace. When we realize God is always in control, every moment becomes an opportunity, not a roadblock. In every situation, we learn to be content—and contentment itself becomes faith that our needs will always be met — Philippians 4:11.

Choosing Movement Over Stagnation

Many people believe something is “wrong” with the world. This is true. But let us not use this truth as an excuse to do nothing. Instead, let this awareness bring clarity: every moment passes. Everything good or bad has a season, but no season is forever. Only God is eternal — Revelation 21:1. Life is simply a series of choices. We do not control creation, but we are promised that God will provide for us.

This provision may not always look how we expect, but that is why we must remain content in all moments while continuing to move forward. Complacency keeps the door shut. Contentment opens it—one moment at a time. And when that moment comes, you can choose regret…or you can choose to step through.

Which will you choose today?
Finding Light in the Fracture

November 19th, 2025

We live in a fractured world, but not in the way you might think. Some believe they live completely in the light because they were born into it. Others have grown comfortable with what the shadow brings and decide to remain in the dark. Often we imagine there is a war between these two extremes, but as you will see, the battle is always internal. The truth is, no matter what walk of life you come from, we were all created in God’s image, and everything that God created is good — Genesis 1:31. Today we hope to explore what “good” truly means, and help our readers deal with the fracture that exists within their lives.

Being born in the light — or what we consider the light — does not make us incapable of darkness. There is only one true Light, and unfortunately it is rare for a human being to be born with it. Instead, we are often born with ignorance of what truly is. And because of this, we sometimes weaponize our “light” against others to build up our identity. Or even worse, we choose not to see those in need — 2 Corinthians 11:13. This is what we like to call being blinded by the false light. But we must remember: false light is not the true Light. True Light is not subject to our preferences. It will either comfort us or confront us. Truth tends to destroy our ego so that we can be renewed. So the question remains: if you think you are living in the light, are you actually living in darkness?

The shadow of death is the darkness most of us live with daily. Many have lived with it so long that we’ve begun to call it good — Isaiah 5:20. Some of us fear the darkness and try to ignore it, yet it continues to grow and eventually manifests into something powerful: the delusion mentioned above. This is the concept of the shadow we wrote about before. It is also why we use the shade of black to represent “truth” in our blog. Because it is not true black, it does not absorb all light. We love this representation because it means that within most of us there still exists a tiny bit of light — the true Light — just like the parable. It is up to us to see it and allow it to grow.

The battle between the false light and the shadow of death is that both fight for a seat on the throne. This shows us that neither of these attributes are truly who we are. Yes, they resemble parts of us, but our true being exists beyond what we can presently think or see. “For I know the plans I have for you… plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” — Jeremiah 29:11. This does not simply mean a future of financial wealth. It means that by discovering God’s plan for us, we discover purpose. We are sometimes meant to dive into the sea of darkness in order to find the truth. It is not wrong to accept wealth into your life — believing this will cause fracture. We are meant to do the will of the One who brought us here and be content in that. When we do so, and when blessings come, we are able to use them to help those in need instead of hoarding them for ourselves.

No matter where you are in the world, and no matter what your past is, remember: there is still light in you. Yes, there are ways to lose that light, but for many of you reading, you have not reached that point — and I thank you for sticking with me through these writings. Pain is a precursor to the fracture. You may have been hurt by someone calling themselves a light worker. But I invite you to sit with that pain, even if only for a few minutes a day, to discover what you are truly feeling. Is this pain directed at your ego, or something deeper? Often our initial response is not the true response. This is why we should not be quick to become angry — Ecclesiastes 7:9.

As we wrap up today’s post, I’d like each of you to reflect on one word: patience. Through patience we discern what is truly happening inside us. We all live in a fractured world, so again I ask you — love one another. And we do this by practicing patience.
The Fracture

November 17th, 2025

There once was a boy traveling down a road toward a city he had longed to reach.
Along his path he noticed a shining object lying just off to the side of the road. Curious, he knelt down and picked it up. Much to his surprise, the object stopped shining the moment it touched his hands. Instead, he was greeted with what appeared to be the image of an eye.

The boy sat for a while, turning the strange object over in his hands, wondering what it meant. Before he realized it, the sun had retreated for the evening. Now the object showed nothing at all. Frustrated by the distraction, the boy tossed it aside and began setting up camp—he couldn’t continue forward without light.

The object quickly became an afterthought.

He rummaged through his belongings, gathering what he needed to build a fire. If he was going to remain there for the night, he at least wanted to be comfortable. As the fire grew, the discarded object—resting only a few feet away—began to shine again. Startled, the boy reached for it once more. And again, the eye appeared.

In that moment, he realized the truth:
he was seeing a reflection of himself.
And in that realization, he found comfort.

Greetings, my fellow readers and light workers. I’ve taken time away due to the passing of a loved one, but I am grateful to be writing again. Today, I want to speak on a concept I call “the fractured.”

We live in a world where our external circumstances often mirror what we hold internally. This does not mean we can control everything around us, but rather that we do control how we respond to it. Life is a tapestry woven from choices—yes and no. Sometimes our perspective becomes fractured, and when that happens, we can find ourselves lost either in darkness or in light.

But we were created as beings of both spirit and nature.
To live fully, we must learn to navigate both.

When we become overly fixated on one side—too spiritual to be grounded or too grounded to be spiritual—we lose sight of the gift we carry. Sometimes we even discard the very thing we need most. Yet because of grace, the truth never fully leaves us. As long as we are willing to choose it, the gift remains. Power is given to us to choose; we do not choose to be powerful.

For this reason, we must always remain aware—of ourselves on the inside, and of the people we have around us. Only then do we start to see what God has in store for us. Only then do we begin to truly live.

Many among us feel fractured.
But instead of seeing those pieces as a mess, I invite you to see each fragment for what it is:
a unique part of the whole.

Each piece is meaningful.
Each piece is necessary.
Without them, you are only partially yourself.

Some are blessed to begin whole and remain whole. Even if that is not your story, it does not make you lesser. Sometimes, seeing life in pieces is exactly what teaches us the truth—that the picture is far bigger than ourselves.

So I ask you:
Will you begin picking up your pieces today?
Shine Brighter

July 28th, 2025

For those who were chosen to lead

Blood Before Fruit

To be chosen sounds like a blessing.
And in many ways, it is. But like all sacred things, the role comes with a price.

Those who are chosen to be first are chosen to lead.
To lead is to walk a path that no one has cleared for you.
No one has swept the stones.
No one has warned you where the thorns are.
No one has mapped the terrain.

You will bleed before you ever taste fruit.

That’s why preparation is spiritual. It’s mental. It’s physical.
Because only the Most High knows what lies ahead of you.
And if you trust that, you’ll be ready for whatever comes your way.

Becoming the Servant

Eventually, after the pain, the trials, and the discipline—you harvest fruit.
But the fruit was never the reward. It was the evidence of the journey.

Every fruit contains seed. And every seed must be replanted.
As one of the chosen, your mission isn’t to hoard what you’ve gained.
It’s to share it, to guide, and to help others rise.

The sweetness of the fruit is only yours for a moment.
You were never meant to keep it. You were meant to distribute it.

This is divine order.

Seeing the Purpose

Some are called to carry truth. Others are simply meant to walk in it.
Either way—truth doesn’t need our protection.
It is eternal. It cannot be owned.

When we try to secure the truth, we distort it.
We begin to protect our version of it.
And over time, we drift further from the essence of what it was.

Truth isn’t meant to be captured—it’s meant to be followed.
And the beauty of following the path is that it helps
even our fallen selves remember how to return home.

The Revelation

There are many reasons we stumble, but two stand out:

1. We distort the plan by forcing others into it.

Sometimes we bring people into our journey who aren’t aligned with it.
They haven’t walked what we’ve walked.
They haven’t earned the map.
So we alter the path to keep them with us.
And in doing so, we both become lost.

2. We want to be first, but fear what it takes.

We love the idea of being chosen, but shrink from the cost.
We want the reward without the ritual.

But if we do reach the mountaintop, it’s not a place to stay.
It’s a place to see further—and to send down seeds.

Because the fruit is not the reward.
The journey is.

Call to Action: Shine Brighter

You were chosen. And you were called.
Don’t let fear of the journey dim your light.

If the path is hard, that’s confirmation—not rejection.
If you’re ahead, don’t wait—lead.

Remember, the fruit is never the goal. It’s the proof you’ve been walking.

So today, keep walking. Keep planting.
And shine brighter.
Vulnerability and Ego

November 12th, 2024

The Darkness Within: A Moment of Reflection

It was a sunny day, but inside, I could perceive nothing but darkness. My partner and I had just experienced one of our first big hurdles in our relationship. My entire life, I was told by a parent not to trust others at all. Depend on yourself and God, and everything will be alright. I couldn’t accept this idea. For me, we were all a part of God, so how could we not depend on each other? In this moment, I began to see from the perspective of those who came before me. This entire situation caused me to shell up and go into deep meditation and meditative practices. Before I knew what was happening to me, I achieved what some would refer to as a heightened state of mind. I started to see things that I had never seen before, and my mind gained a new dimension of thinking. The best way I can explain it is that it felt like I could see every situation around me and have several conversations at once.
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Enjoy The Small Things

November 7th, 2024

The Power of Diligence in Growth

Remaining diligent—staying focused, consistent, and committed to one’s responsibilities—is an invaluable trait. Diligence isn’t just about putting in effort; it’s about doing so in a way that reflects discipline and attention to detail. To be diligent means to keep showing up, especially for the tasks that might not bring immediate rewards. Often, when we stumble or encounter setbacks, it’s because we’ve grown complacent, or overly comfortable, in our actions. While it’s true that failure can be an excellent teacher, there’s a fine line between learning from failure and accepting it as an endpoint. Growth requires both resilience and the willingness to revisit overlooked details or minor tasks, even if they don’t seem pivotal at first. In the end, these “small” actions can have an immense impact on our progress and development.

For example, think of an athlete training for a marathon. If they skip stretching or hydration because these steps seem less critical than the run itself, they risk injury or burnout. Similarly, by consistently showing up for the smaller actions—like preparing, resting, and refueling—we gradually build a foundation that sustains us in the long term.
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