Broken Yoke Blog

  • Detriment of Sugar


    I heard a pastor one time talk about sugar, and it stuck with me. Not just the kind you stir in your coffee or sprinkle on your cereal, but sugar as a symbol.

    He said, “We don’t fully understand the detriment of sugar.” And he wasn’t just talking about our diet. He was talking about our lives. Our spirits. Our pulpits.

    See, sugar feels good. It tastes sweet. It gives you a rush. But what’s sweet on the tongue can turn toxic in the body.

    Sugar in your blood? That’s diabetes.
    Sugar in your teeth? That’s cavities.
    Sugar in your brain? That’s Alzheimer’s and dementia.
    Sugar in your eyes? That’s glaucoma.

    It doesn’t just stay where you put it, it spreads. It damages. It dulls. It destroys. Slowly. Silently. Sweetly.

    Now think about that sugar in your preaching. Sugar in your words. That watered down, candy coated gospel that makes people feel good but doesn’t make them change. That kind of sugar causes hypocrisy. It causes us to shout, dance, and say, “Church was great today!” but leave with no power, no conviction, no transformation.

    We’ve gotten addicted to sweet sermons, messages that tickle the ears but don’t challenge the heart.
    We’ve settled for sugary spirituality, feel good vibes with no substance.
    We’ve filled our churches with cotton candy Christianity. It looks big, it tastes sweet, but it melts to nothing when life gets real.

    But sugar won’t sustain you when you’re in a battle. Sugar won’t heal your soul. Sugar won’t hold you up when the weight of the world is on your back. Truth will. Power will. The meat of the Word will.

    So maybe it’s time to detox. Time to get back to the raw, sometimes bitter truth that convicts, corrects, and transforms. Because when we preach truth, we preach life. When we stand on truth, we stand in power.

    Don’t let a sugar-coated gospel rot your soul.

    4 min read

  • The Great Deception


    Satan’s Strategy: Making Sin Look Normal and Righteousness Look Strange. One of the greatest deceptions the enemy has ever pulled off is making sin look normal, even desirable, while painting righteousness as outdated, boring, judgmental, or downright strange. This isn’t just a tactic; it’s a strategy deeply embedded in our culture, our entertainment, our education systems, and even our conversations.

    Think about it. What used to be considered shameful is now celebrated. What was once honorable is now mocked. Morality has been flipped on its head, and people hardly blink an eye. It’s not by accident. It’s a calculated war on truth, and it’s spiritual at its core.

    Satan doesn’t show up in a red suit with horns. He shows up in Netflix shows, music lyrics, social media trends, and persuasive ideologies. He whispers, “Do what makes you happy,” and convinces the world that self is god. He repackages rebellion as freedom and convinces us that boundaries are chains rather than protection.

    Meanwhile, righteousness, the pursuit of holiness, integrity, and obedience to God gets labeled as “judgmental,” “narrow-minded,” or “fanatical.” Christians who stand for truth with love are ridiculed, silenced, or canceled. Why? Because light exposes darkness, and darkness hates being exposed.

    The Bible warned us: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness…” (Isaiah 5:20). We’re living in that reality. What Satan couldn’t accomplish through force, he’s achieving through subtle normalization.

    But here’s the truth: God is still on the throne. Holiness is still beautiful. Purity still matters. Obedience is still worth it. And the gospel is still the power of God unto salvation.

    Don’t be surprised when the world calls you strange for following Jesus. Be encouraged. You’re not crazy, you’re set apart. Don’t compromise to fit in with a world that’s falling apart. Stand firm, be bold, and let your life reflect a righteousness that points others to the only One who can truly save.

    In a world where sin is dressed up as freedom, choose the narrow road. It may be unpopular, but it leads to life.

    4 min read

  • Hidden Gift


    I played myself down for years just to make others feel comfortable. I silenced my voice, dimmed my light, and followed their script. Not because I lacked power, but because I didn’t want to disrupt the comfort zones around me. They praised me when I was quiet, when I stayed small, when I kept my brilliance tucked away behind smiles and muted tones.

    But I’m done with that. I ripped that script up.

    And now… they’re uncomfortable. Not because I’ve changed, but because I stopped hiding. They’re scared of the very storm they helped create, the one that brewed in silence while I sat in rooms full of noise, swallowing the truth just to maintain peace that was never mutual.

    They can lie about me. They can talk about me. They can hate me.

    None of it changes who I am or what I carry.

    I’m no longer locking this gift away. It was never meant to be buried under fear, doubt, or other people’s insecurities. I won’t use it for evil, I won’t use it to retaliate, but I will use it.

    Because God developed me in private. He prepared me in the shadows while the world watched someone else. I went through the fire, the isolation, the internal war, and I made it out refined, focused, and aware of my purpose.

    This is not arrogance. This is alignment.
    This is not rebellion. This is revelation.

    I’m stepping fully into who I am now, unapologetically.

    And if that makes you uncomfortable, that’s not my burden anymore.

    4 min read

  • Perserverance Promises Change



    Perseverance isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t always come with applause or recognition. It doesn’t show up in bold headlines or viral moments. But it’s the silent force behind every breakthrough, every comeback, every success story you’ve ever admired.

    It’s waking up when your body aches and your mind says “just five more minutes,” but your goals whisper “not today.” It’s putting one foot in front of the other when the path ahead is foggy, steep, and unforgiving. It’s believing in your purpose even when the results are slow, the support is scarce, and the obstacles are loud.

    Perseverance is not about never failing. It’s about refusing to quit. It’s falling ten times and standing up eleven. It’s enduring the setbacks, the self-doubt, the silence when the world doesn’t notice your effort—but showing up anyway.

    The truth is, anyone can be excited at the start. Anyone can push hard when things are easy or fresh. But the real growth, the transformation, it happens when you persist during the plateaus. When you keep moving forward with no guarantee of success, just faith in your process and fire in your heart.

    Think of every athlete, artist, entrepreneur, or everyday person who ever made something incredible out of nothing. Behind their spotlight was a season of darkness, a storm of struggle, and a stubborn refusal to stop. Perseverance was their companion when no one else showed up.

    So, if you’re tired, keep going. If you’re doubting yourself, breathe and push forward. If nothing seems to be working, trust that the roots are growing even if you can’t yet see the bloom.

    Perseverance doesn’t promise ease. It promises change. And if you stay the course. Step by step, day by day and you will become stronger, wiser, and more capable than you ever imagined.

    Keep going. You’re closer than you think.


    4 min read

  • Prophesy in the Valley


    When we think of God speaking, when we think of divine moments and spiritual encounters, we often imagine mountaintops, those high, glorious places where the air is clear, and the view is breathtaking. But let’s look at Ezekiel 37. God didn’t take Ezekiel to a mountaintop. He didn’t take him to the beach or some serene countryside. He didn’t lead him to a place of comfort or clarity. No, He took him to a valley. And not just any valley, a valley full of dry bones.

    A low place.
    A dark place.
    A place of death and desolation.
    A place where hope had dried up.
    A place where nothing looked like it could live again.

    And it was there that God said, “Prophesy.”

    That right there wrecks me.

    Because so often, we wait for the highs of life to open our mouths. We wait for everything to be aligned before we declare God’s promises. We wait until we feel strong, confident, and full of joy to speak life over ourselves or others. But the valley shows us something different. The valley teaches us that God doesn’t only move on the mountaintops, He moves in the low, hidden, broken places too.

    God commanded Ezekiel to speak to what looked hopeless. To call life into what was clearly dead. To believe for resurrection before there was any sign of it.

    So, don’t let your valley silence you.
    Don’t let the darkness around you mute your voice.
    Don’t wait until the breakthrough to speak the Word, speak it in the battle.
    Speak it in the waiting.
    Speak it in the weeping.
    Prophesy when the bones are still bones.

    Because God works in the valley.
    He breathes in the darkness.
    He revives the dead places.
    And your obedience to speak, even when everything around you says “it’s over,” is the very thing that invites His breath to come.

    So if you’re in a valley right now, hear this:

    You are not disqualified from declaring His promises.
    You are not disqualified from carrying His word.
    Your environment doesn’t determine your authority, your God does.

    The same power that raises the dead to life still moves through your words.
    So speak.
    Prophesy.
    Even here.
    Even now.
    Even in the valley.

    Because what looks like a graveyard to you might be the very place where God wants to show His glory.

    4 min read

  • forgiveness vs Reconciliation


    “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
    – Jesus (Luke 23:34)

    These words weren’t spoken in a moment of peace or comfort. They were spoken while Jesus hung on a cross, beaten, mocked, and betrayed. In His deepest pain, He still chose forgiveness.

    But here’s something we often confuse: forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation.

    Forgiveness is a decision you make in your heart. It’s a release. It’s saying, “I’m not going to let what you did keep poisoning my spirit.” Forgiveness frees you, it cuts the cord that ties you to the weight of resentment and bitterness. It doesn’t require an apology. It doesn’t require closure. It doesn’t even require the other person to still be in your life.

    Reconciliation, though? That’s something else.
    That requires trust. That requires change. That requires both people to show up with honesty, accountability, and growth. And not every relationship is meant to be restored.

    Just because I forgave you doesn’t mean I’m setting your place back at my table.
    And just because I’m not setting your place doesn’t mean I’m holding a grudge.
    It doesn’t mean I wish you harm. In fact, I hope you eat. I hope you grow. I hope you heal, succeed, and live in peace… just not at my table.

    We can want the best for someone, and still know that letting them close again would only bring chaos, hurt, or disruption. Boundaries aren’t bitterness. They’re wisdom. They’re growth. They’re protection.

    So let’s stop guilting ourselves into thinking that if we truly forgive, we must reconcile.
    Jesus forgave those who crucified Him, but He didn’t invite them to dinner. Forgiveness is commanded. Reconciliation is conditional. And wisdom is knowing the difference.

    4 min read