A Life of Struggle, Faith, and Revelation

✨ A Life of Struggle, Faith, and Revelation

Every day I wake up, I feel the weight of a battle—not just physical, but spiritual. It’s a fight to stay grounded in truth, to remain faithful to the calling God placed on my life, and to walk forward even when the past tries to pull me back. My journey hasn’t been easy. It’s been marked by pain, sacrifice, and revelation. But through it all, I’ve held onto four words God gave me to live by: Confidence, Family, Business, and Eradicate.

I was born on October 29, 1968. My memory is still sharp, and I often find myself reflecting on the chapters of my life—some closed, some still unfolding. I’ve seen seasons of joy and seasons of sorrow. I’ve loved deeply, lost quietly, and carried burdens that few could see. Yet I’ve never stopped believing that my life has purpose, even when the road ahead feels uncertain.

On August 28, 2023, I woke up with gratitude in my heart. I thanked God for breath, for life, for another chance. But even in that moment of praise, I couldn’t ignore the heaviness pressing against my spirit. It felt like invisible chains were wrapped around me—chains forged from past mistakes, broken relationships, and spiritual warfare. I wanted the day to be different. I hoped for peace. But something felt off from the moment I heard that knock in my sleep.

Was it Jesus knocking? Or was it the echo of a woman I once tried to love—a woman who never knew the depth of my heart, even though I gave her ten years of silent devotion from age 45 to 55. She still doesn’t know. Maybe she never will.

Or maybe it was the woman I’ve loved for over 40 years. The one whose presence still stirs something sacred in me. I’ve tried to get closer to her, even if it meant leaving behind a season of life that’s already passed for both of us. I moved into her mother-in-law’s trailer, leaving my house behind, doing it all alone. I loaded the U-Haul early that morning—washing machine, dryer, totes of books—ready to start fresh. But when I arrived, her brother-in-law and nephew’s cars blocked the way.

I walked to her house and asked if she could move her Jeep so I could get closer to the trailer. She didn’t move it right away. She had to get ready for work—she’s a regional manager for an apartment complex in Magnolia, Arkansas. While I waited, I started hauling floor tiles across the yard, hoping I could finish unloading before she left.

I’ve seen her in every state—waking up, dressed up, worn down—and to me, she’s always been the most beautiful woman in the world. Someone I could never lie to. Someone whose heart I would never break. I never knew my own heart could hold this much love, yet never receive it in return.

Maybe it’s because the women I’ve loved have all been worldly. And the Bible says in James 4:4: "Ye adulterers and adulteresses, know ye not that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God." Also in 2 Corinthians 6:14 Amplified Bible

Do not be unequally bound together with unbelievers [do not make mismatched alliances with them, inconsistent with your faith]. For what partnership can righteousness have with lawlessness? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?

If they don’t know God, they can’t truly know love. As 1 John 4:8 (Amplified Bible) reminds us: "The one who does not love has not become acquainted with God [does not and never did know Him], for God is love."

So maybe they’re lost. And maybe I’ve been trying to fix something that’s not mine to fix. That’s a hard truth to swallow, especially when your heart is involved. But love without God is just longing. It’s a shadow of what could be.

And then there’s this question: How can someone eat healthy while their spouse still eats swine? It may sound small, but it’s symbolic. It’s spiritual. There are deeper spirits at work—generational curses, inherited trauma, and unseen battles. I’ve heard stories of a great-grandmother who killed her husband and set fire to the house, believing the children was inside. That kind of trauma doesn’t just disappear. It transfers. Not always through violence, but through bitterness, revenge, and spiritual decay.

Eating swine may seem like a dietary choice, but it’s one of the most harmful meats today. And 666—the number of the beast—still controls many. Some souls are already in hell, even while their bodies walk the earth. They’ve been marked by demonic encounters, family declarations to Satan, or influence from musicians, actors, and false prophets. The enemy doesn’t always come with horns. Sometimes he comes with a smile, a song, or a seductive lie.

There’s a young man I know—he needed a father, not just a dad. He carries a heavy assignment, but he doesn’t yet understand the weight of it. He was falsely implicated in a murder he didn’t commit. The real culprits, two brothers, lured him under the pretense of friendship, intending to take his life. When their plan failed, they turned on him, casting blame to destroy his future.

Even now, he walks unaware of the divine purpose stitched into his story. But I see it. I feel it. God has a plan for his life—and for mine. Our paths are intertwined, not by coincidence, but by calling. And though the road is hard, I believe redemption is coming. I believe healing is possible. I believe that what the enemy meant for evil, God will use for good.

So I keep walking. I keep fighting. I keep believing. Because this life—this struggle—is not the end. It’s the beginning of something holy. Something eternal. Something worth every tear, every trial, and every testimony.