Memoir Title: “Eradicate: A Journey Through Fire, Faith, and Redemption” 2

1. Born for a Purpose Childhood curiosity, divine identity, and the four words God gave you.

2. The Thorn and the Calling Early spiritual encounters, prophetic identity, and the mystery of pain.

3. Dallas: The City of Awakening and War Your return to Dallas, spiritual highs and lows, and the battle for your soul.

4. Women and Warfare Mary, Charlotte, Shawanda—the emotional and spiritual impact of love and betrayal.

5. False Love and Real Lessons The African wife, the ex-girlfriend, and the painful pursuit of restoration.

6. Guarding the Heart Proverbs 4:23, emotional boundaries, and the cost of misplaced trust.

7. Fatherhood Before Fathering Loving a son not biologically yours, and the difference between being a dad and a father.

8. The Assignment and the Accusation The young man’s false implication in murder, spiritual warfare, and destiny.

9. The Role of the Church and the Failures of Men Influences from preachers, the absence of your father, and the longing for spiritual mentorship.

10. Redemption Is Personal What true love means, what God’s love looks like, and why your story matters.

Chapter Two: The Thorn and the Calling

From the outside, my life may look like a series of broken relationships, missed opportunities, and spiritual detours. But from the inside—from the place where God speaks—it’s a battlefield of purpose.

I’ve always known I was called. Not because I was perfect, but because I was pursued. God didn’t wait for me to get it right. He marked me before I was born. Jeremiah 1:5 isn’t just a verse—it’s my DNA. “Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee…” That means my identity was never up for debate. Even when I doubted myself, heaven didn’t.

But calling comes with conflict. And mine came in the form of women who touched my heart but tore at my spirit. Mary. Charlotte. Shawanda. Each one left a mark. Each one taught me something about love—and about warfare.

Mary was the beginning of sorrow. Charlotte was the beginning of lawlessness. Shawanda was the echo of both. I loved them. I tried to lead them. But love without understanding is like building a house on sand. It collapses under pressure.

I used to ask, Why would God allow these thorns in my life? Then I found the answer in 2 Corinthians 12:6–8:

“There was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me…”

I begged God to take it away. I prayed three times. But the thorn remained. Not to punish me—but to protect me. To keep me humble. To keep me dependent. To remind me that revelation comes with resistance.

These women weren’t just relationships. They were assignments. They were mirrors. They showed me what I lacked, what I longed for, and what I needed to let go of. They taught me that not everyone who touches your heart is meant to hold it.

And yet, I kept searching. I kept hoping. I even thought marrying a young African woman would be the answer. But that too became a lesson in being used. I wanted restoration with an ex-girlfriend, thinking maybe God would redeem the past. Instead, He revealed the truth: Redemption doesn’t come through people. It comes through Him.

I’ve poured out love. I’ve given kindness. But I’ve had to learn that not everyone who receives your love knows how to return it. That’s why 1 John 4:8 hits so hard: “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”

And Proverbs 4:23 became my shield: “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

I didn’t always guard mine. I let people in who weren’t sent. I gave pieces of myself to those who didn’t know what to do with them. And I paid the price—in heartbreak, in confusion, in spiritual warfare.

But even in the pain, God was present. Even in the betrayal, He was building me. Even in the silence, He was speaking.

This chapter of my life isn’t about regret. It’s about revelation. It’s about understanding that the thorn is proof of the calling. That the struggle is evidence of the assignment. That the heartbreak is part of the healing.

I’m not just surviving—I’m being sanctified.