Blog

Tag: Healing

  • The Cross Didn’t Flinch

    I don’t know who needs this, but Jesus has never stopped loving you. Not once. Not for a moment. Not even when you gave up on Him.
    Not when you ran. Not when you rebelled.
    Not when you were in the middle of the sin you swore you’d never return to. Not even when you hated yourself so much you couldn’t look in the mirror.

    He still loved you. When the world turned cold, when people failed you, when everything fell apart, His love stayed.

    And not some soft, passive kind of love either. I’m talking about a love that chases you down in your darkest night. A love that steps into the dirt, into the mess, into the parts of your story you don’t even talk about. A love that doesn’t flinch at your brokenness. One that wraps you up in grace when you feel most ashamed.

    This isn’t religion. This isn’t about behavior.
    This is a Savior who laid His life down for you knowing how many times you’d mess up after saying “never again.” Knowing how many times you’d choose the world. Knowing how long it might take for you to come back.
    And still, He wanted you.

    You think you’ve gone too far? He already stretched His arms farther. You think you’re too dirty? He already washed it with His blood. You think you’ve disappointed Him? He knew everything, and still called you worth dying for.

    You might not feel lovable. But His love isn’t based on your feelings. It’s based on His faithfulness. And He is faithful even when we are not. So if you’re sitting there tonight feeling like you’ve failed too much, fallen too hard, or drifted too far, please hear me:

    He’s still waiting.
    Still calling.
    Still loving.
    Still redeeming.

    Jesus doesn’t love a future, more cleaned-up version of you. He loves you, right here, right now, in all your mess. So come back home.
    Fall into His arms. And let His love do what no one else could ever do, heal you from the inside out.

    You are still wanted. Still chosen. Still loved.
    Always have been. Always will be.

  • Next Level, Next Devil

    Be Careful What You’re Asking For. Everybody wants next-level favor. Everybody wants next-level blessings. Everybody prays, God, take me higher. Use me more. Expand my territory.

    But here’s the question nobody asks:
    Are you ready for what comes with it? Because another level… always brings another devil.

    Some doors you’re asking God to open aren’t just paved with opportunity, they’re surrounded by spiritual warfare. Some blessings you’re begging for come hand-in-hand with betrayal, abandonment, heartbreak, and loneliness. Some platforms you want will expose you to wounds you never thought you’d have to feel.

    Favor looks good from a distance.
    It sounds powerful when you’re praying for it.
    But real favor, the kind that shakes the gates of hell, costs something.

    You might lose friends. You might lose family.
    You might lose the approval of the crowd you were trying so hard to fit into. You might have nights where you’re weeping on the floor, wondering why the very people you loved the most are the first ones who turned their backs when you started to rise.

    You want the blessing, but are you ready for the burden? You want the calling, but can you handle the crushing? See, everyone wants the crown, but few are willing to endure the cross.

    God will never give you favor that your character can’t carry. He’s not just blessing you, He’s building you also. He’s teaching you how to have thicker skin and carry a softer heart. He’s teaching you how to walk alone and not crumble. He’s teaching you how to stay humble when you have every reason to brag.
    He’s teaching you how to hold onto Him tighter when everything else falls apart.

    Sometimes that next-level favor you’re praying for will cost you comfort. It’ll cost you convenience. It’ll cost you approval. It might even cost you the version of yourself that wasn’t ready for it.

    So before you beg God for the next level, ask Him to build your foundation deeper. Ask Him to strengthen your spirit first. Because promotion without preparation is a setup for destruction. And favor without fortitude will break you instead of bless you.

    If you’re asking for next level favor, you better be ready for next level warfare. If you’re asking for next level blessings, you better be ready for next level loneliness. If you’re asking for next level purpose, you better be ready for next level hurt.

    If you’re ready, and if you’re willing to endure the pain for the promise, then stand tall, armor up, and walk through the fire.

    Because the same God who gives the favor will also give the strength to carry it. The same God who brings the blessing will walk you through the battle. The same God who calls you higher will never leave you lower. You were made for this. But first, be ready.

  • God’s Not Done With You

    Hey, I know a lot of the stuff I post can feel heavy. I write a lot about the battles, the struggles, the grit it takes to walk through fire without losing your soul. Because life is hard sometimes. Faith is tested. And pretending it’s not doesn’t make anyone stronger, it just leaves people feeling more alone. So I talk about the hard things. Because somebody needs to.

    I want to lift you up today by letting you know that you’re not just fighting battles, but you’re also building strength. You aren’t just surviving the storms around you, you are learning how to dance through the rain. You’re not just carrying scars from this life, you’re carrying stories that prove you didn’t quit.

    You’re further along than you think. You’re stronger than you feel right now. And the you’re more loved than you know.

    God isn’t just watching as you limp your way through life, He’s right there walking through it with you. Even when you don’t feel it and when you’re too tired to pray. Especially when the answers feel far away.

    You are not abandoned. You are not invisible. You are not forgotten. Every tear you’ve cried, He’s caught in his hands. Every prayer you’ve whispered, He’s heard clearly. Every step you’ve taken when it would’ve been easier to sit down and give up, He’s watched.

    You are doing better than you think. Grace is covering more than you realize. And the same God who walked people through the Red Sea, through the fire, through the flood, is walking with you too.

    Keep going. You’re closer to breakthrough than you are to breaking. You’re closer to restoration than you are to ruin. You’re closer to purpose than you are to pain. Don’t give up now. There’s beauty on the other side of this.
    There’s joy in places you thought would only ever bring sorrow. There’s peace where you only expected pieces.

    You will laugh again. You will breathe easier again. You will look back on this season and realize you were never walking alone.

    Today, take a breath. Take a second to remember: the story isn’t over yet. And the Author isn’t finished writing your victory.

  • Bible Buffet

    You Love the Verses That Make You Feel Good, But You Ignore the Ones That Cut Deep

    Everybody loves the Scriptures that comfort. The ones that tell you you’re chosen. That you’re loved. That God has a plan for your life. And those verses are true. They matter. They’re beautiful. But here’s the thing: you can’t just cling to the promises without also submitting to the correction.

    Jeremiah 29:11, For I know the plans I have for you. And yet you skip past Luke 9:23 where Jesus says, “If anyone wants to follow me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me.”

    You post Philippians 4:13—“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me”, but you scroll right past Galatians 5:24: “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.”

    You love Romans 8:1, “There is therefore now no condemnation…”, but ignore Hebrews 12:6: “For the Lord disciplines the one He loves, and chastises every son whom He receives.”

    You want John 3:16 but not Matthew 7:21, where Jesus says, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven…”

    You quote Psalm 23 but don’t want to talk about Psalm 51, where David cries out in repentance for his sin.

    You don’t get to follow a feel-good Jesus. You follow a crucified one. A risen one. A holy one. A just one. A Savior and a Judge.

    The Word of God is not a buffet where you get to pick only what tastes sweet and leave the rest on the table. The same Word that comforts also convicts. The same Spirit that encourages also rebukes.

    Some of us want to be encouraged but not transformed. Inspired but not instructed. Forgiven but not accountable.

    But real faith is built in the tension between grace and truth. You can’t grow in Christ if you only listen to what makes you feel good. Growth comes through pruning. Through fire. Through correction. Through conviction.

    So ask yourself: Do you love the whole Word of God, or just the parts that don’t confront your lifestyle?

    Because if you’re only reading the Scriptures that make you feel better, but ignoring the ones that call you higher, you’re not worshiping God. You’re worshiping comfort. And comfort never changed anyone. Conviction did.

  • The Foundery Church

    Let me tell you about The Foundery Church.

    It’s not your typical Sunday morning performance. It’s not a concert stage with fog machines and the dimmed lights designed to entertain you. It’s not a place where you come to blend in, check a box, or sip coffee while your soul stays asleep. The Foundery Church is a forge, a place where heat, pressure, and time shape broken metal into purpose-filled steel.

    This isn’t a museum for saints. It’s a workshop for the willing. A gathering place for the gritty. It’s a shelter for the tired. It’s a safe place for the messed up. The ones who’ve been through the fire and the ones just stepping into it. We don’t pretend to have it all together, but we know the One who holds all things together.

    The Foundery isn’t about being flashy or having perfect people. It’s about process. About transformation. About discipleship that costs something. Because we believe God doesn’t just save you, He refines you. He doesn’t just hand you grace, He teaches you how to carry it like a sword.

    Here, we preach the blood of Jesus without watering it down. We speak the truth in love, even when it cuts. Because conviction isn’t cruelty, it’s care. And repentance isn’t shame, it’s freedom.

    At the Foundery, you won’t find a stage where man is lifted up, you’ll find an altar where pride comes to die. You won’t be handed motivational quotes, you’ll be handed a cross. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s real. And because we know that on the other side of the suffering, there’s resurrection power.

    We sing loud. We cry hard. We pray like warriors. And we don’t let our brothers or sisters walk alone. This is a place where iron sharpens iron, where scars are sacred, and where every testimony smells like smoke from the fire God brought us through.

    So if you’re tired of fake. If you’re done with shallow. If you want something that challenges you, breaks you, heals you, and builds you, welcome to The Foundery.

    This is the church for the ones who still believe revival is possible. This is the church where God doesn’t just restore, He reforges.
    Let the sparks fly.

  • Sanctified Sinners and Barstool Saints

    I’ve heard it my whole life, that you won’t make it to heaven sitting in a bar on the weekends. And listen, I get it. There’s a fair point there. Scripture calls us to be set apart, to live holy, to walk away from the old man and put on the new. There’s absolutely a call to live righteously.

    But let me tell you something that most folks don’t want to admit out loud. You know what you’ll often find in a bar that you can’t find in a lot of churches? The answer is simple, it’s GRACE.

    That drunk sitting on a barstool might hand you his last dollar if you looked like you needed it. That woman sipping a cocktail might ask how you’re really doing and mean it more than someone dressed in THEIR Sunday’s best. That regular bartender? He might listen to your whole story without judging a single word. I know that might mess with some folks theology. But it’s the truth.

    People don’t skip church and head to bars because they’re all trying to rebel. A lot of them just don’t feel safe in the church. They walk into a sanctuary and get side eyed over their clothes, over their past, or the fact that they still smell like last night’s mistakes. But they walk into a bar and feel seen, heard, even loved for who they are, not who they pretend to be. Somewhere along the way, we got it wrong.

    Jesus didn’t sit with the righteous. He sat with the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the outcasts. All of the ones that religious people crossed the street to avoid. He didn’t run from messes. He stepped right into them.
    He didn’t throw stones. He offered grace.
    And the ones He did rebuke the most? The Pharisees. All of the religious elite who knew all the scriptures but couldn’t recognize the Savior standing in front of them.

    The body of Christ wasn’t called to be a gated community of the perfect. It was called to be a hospital for the broken. A safe place, a refuge. A place where people with addictions, baggage, trauma, doubt, and sin can walk in, not be fixed on the spot, but be loved through the process.

    Churches need to start looking less like country clubs and more like those late night bar stools where real conversations happen.
    Where vulnerability is allowed. Where masks come off. Where grace pours like cheap whiskey and love flows like an open tab.

    We’ve been too busy acting like the Pharisees in the synagogue instead of the Friend who sat at the well. The truth?
    Sitting in a bar doesn’t get you to heaven.
    BUT SITTING IN A PEW EVERY SUNDAY DOESN’T EITHER. Jesus does. And He’s not afraid to walk into the darkest places to find His people.

  • The Past Doesn’t Define You

    I don’t even know how to explain all that I’ve been through. I’ve walked through fire that left me scarred in ways that no one could ever see. I’ve smiled through pain just to survive the day. I’ve been in rooms full of people and felt completely alone. I’ve lied and said I’m okay more than I’d care to admit. Behind closed doors, I’ve cried out to God with nothing but brokenness in my hands. I was left wondering if He was even still listening.

    I’ve done things I wish I could undo. Seen things I wish I could unsee. Said things in anger, in pain, out of fear. Many things that still echo in my mind, reminding me of who I was when I was just trying to hold myself together.

    I’ve been brought to my knees more than once. And not in worship, but in utter defeat. With absolute regret. Also with complete exhaustion. I’ve looked in the mirror and barely recognized the person staring back. I’ve asked God to just let it end. Just let the pain stop. But he had different plans, because I’m still here. And that’s not just a sentence, it’s a miracle.

    The devil came for me hard. First, he tried to destroy my mind when he came at me and caused me anxiety, and the shame. Most of all, the constant voices telling me I wasn’t enough. Then he came for my body, with sickness, fatigue, and chronic pain that doesn’t stop. When that wasn’t enough, he came for both, hoping I’d finally break.

    What the enemy didn’t know is that God had already put something in me that couldn’t be killed. He put a purpose. He gave me a calling. He gave me a reason to rise again. Even when I had no strength of my own. I’m here for such a time as this.

    I’m not who I used to be. I’m also not who I’m going to be. But I am here, wiser, stronger, and more aware of the fight I’m in. I’m also more confident in the God who’s kept me through it all. I’m not done. I’m not out. I refuse to let the darkness that tried to take me out win.

    You can’t kill what God planted. You can’t silence what He raised up for this generation. I may be bruised, but I am not broken. I may carry around scars physically and emotionally, but they are the proof that I survived. That I overcame because the grace of God.

    For anyone that is reading this who’s barely holding on, hear me when I say this, You are not alone, And this isn’t the end. God’s not done with you either. This is just the beginning.

  • My Pain is a Blessing

    My Pain is a Blessing

    That sounds strange, I know. Especially when you’re living with pain that doesn’t go away, pain that lingers day after day, like an unwanted shadow. Chronic pain wears on you, physically, mentally, emotionally. It drains you in ways most people will never understand.

    But even in that, I’ve learned something deeply valuable: pain has a purpose.

    If I never had pain, if I never faced suffering, I might start to believe I didn’t need help. That I had it all figured out. That I was strong enough on my own. But the truth is, I’m not. I’m not perfect, I’m not self-sufficient, and I wasn’t made to be.

    Pain is what reminds me I need God.

    It’s what drives me into His arms. When my body aches and no relief comes, when I’m exhausted just from existing, when I wonder how I’m going to get through another day, He meets me there. In the stillness, in the struggle, in the silence. I need Him every moment, and pain keeps me close. Not because God wants to see me suffer, but because He wants to see me lean on Him, trust Him, know Him in the deepest way.

    And maybe… maybe that’s a blessing.

    Because someone else out there is suffering too. Someone feels like they can’t go on. Someone is battling chronic pain, invisible illness, or emotional weight no one sees. If that’s you, I want you to know: I see you. I am you.

    And if my dependence on God, if my ability to keep moving, even when it hurts, can shine a light for someone else in the dark, then maybe that’s part of why I’m still standing. Not because I’m strong, but because He is. Not because the pain is easy, but because God is faithful in it.

    My suffering is how I stay connected to Him.
    My weakness is how His strength is made perfect.
    My brokenness is where His grace meets me.

    So no, I don’t thank God for the pain. But I thank Him that even in the pain, He’s present. And I thank Him for using it, for using me to remind someone else they’re not alone, and they’re not without hope.

    Chronic pain may be part of my life, but it will never define me.
    God does that. And He’s not finished with me yet.

  • Why didn’t God Help?

    A question many of us have whispered in pain, shouted in anger, or quietly pondered in silence.

    When tragedy strikes, when suffering feels overwhelming, or when the world feels unfair, this is often our first question. Why didn’t God step in? Where was He?

    But what if He asks us the same question?

    “Why didn’t you help?”

    Think about the homeless person you passed today. You saw them. Maybe you looked away quickly, maybe you judged, or maybe you just told yourself you couldn’t do anything. But they were there, cold, hungry, human.

    Think about that coworker or classmate who looked like they were barely holding it together. You noticed. You felt something was off. But you didn’t ask. You didn’t stop. It wasn’t your business, you told yourself.

    Think about the person you love who’s been distant lately. You figured they needed space. Or maybe you didn’t want to deal with their weight when your own shoulders already felt heavy. But you sensed it. You felt it.

    What about the friend who hinted at needing help but never said the words? The kid who gets picked on while others laugh? The person online who posted something dark or cryptic and you just kept scrolling?

    We say, “Why didn’t God intervene?”
    But maybe He placed that person in your path because you were supposed to.

    Maybe we are His hands and feet, His heart in action.

    Maybe God’s help doesn’t come from lightning bolts or grand gestures, but from everyday people choosing kindness, choosing presence, choosing to care.

    So before we ask, “Where was God?”,
    He might gently ask, “Where were you?”

    Let’s stop waiting for divine intervention when we have been given the power to be divine love in someone’s life.

    Help when you can. Speak when you should. Show up when it matters.
    Because someone is praying for a miracle, and maybe, just maybe, that miracle is you.

  • Let Judas Be Judas

    Let Judas Be Judas: Embracing Betrayal as Part of Your Purpose

    We all want loyalty. We want to surround ourselves with people who will ride with us through the highs and the lows, who will support us, uplift us, and never turn their backs on us. But life doesn’t always work that way. There comes a time when someone you trust, someone you thought would always be in your corner, betrays you. And when that moment comes, it shakes you to your core.

    The natural reaction is to be hurt, to be angry, to question everything. “How could they do this to me? After all we’ve been through?” But I’ve come to realize something powerful: even Jesus needed a Judas.

    Think about that for a moment. Jesus, the Son of God, the Messiah, chose Judas as one of His twelve disciples, knowing full well that he would betray Him. He didn’t make a mistake. He didn’t misjudge Judas’ character. He didn’t fail to see the red flags. He knew. And yet, He still allowed Judas to walk with Him, to break bread with Him, to be part of His inner circle.

    Why? Because Judas was necessary for the mission.

    Without Judas’ betrayal, there would be no cross. Without the cross, there would be no resurrection. And without the resurrection, there would be no salvation. The pain of betrayal was the very thing that propelled Jesus into fulfilling His ultimate purpose.

    And the same goes for us.

    When someone you trust betrays you, it’s not the end of your story, it’s the turning point. That heartbreak, that disappointment, that feeling of being stabbed in the back isn’t happening to you; it’s happening for you. Because maybe, just maybe, that betrayal is the very thing pushing you toward your destiny.

    I know this is true for me.

    Had certain things not happened in my life, had certain people not betrayed my trust, I’d still be sitting on a pew, staying silent. I’d still be keeping everything God has done for me locked inside, afraid to share it with the world. But their betrayal was the catalyst that got me to where I am today. It woke me up. It pushed me out. It forced me to step into what God was calling me to do.

    And that’s why I’ve started this blog. Not because I’m special, not because I have it all figured out, but because I know what it feels like to be hurt, to be blindsided, to wonder why God allowed this to happen. And if my story, my experiences, and my testimony can help even one person see that their betrayal wasn’t the end, it was the beginning, then it’s all been worth it.

    So if you’re going through a season of betrayal right now, if you’ve been wounded by someone you thought would always be in your corner, let Judas be Judas.

    Keep your circle small. Guard your heart. But also understand that sometimes, the ones who hurt you the most are the ones who push you into your purpose. Judas didn’t win. God did. And if you stay faithful, if you keep trusting, if you refuse to let the pain make you bitter, you’ll see that this was never about them.

    It was always about what God was preparing you for.

    So, thank Judas, and keep moving forward. Your purpose is waiting.