1 Samuel
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I know the ache because I’ve been there lately. Not with the occult. But with the ache of silence. I hurt a brother I love so much—and I hurt him deeply. I see it now. I’ve confessed it. I’ve apologized. I’ve wept over it. And still… he leaves me in silence. No anger. No explosion.…
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I’ve felt a craving in my own story—when the narrative about me gets twisted, or my contribution goes unseen. I’ve stood in moments where I held the proverbial spear—knowing I could say something, text something, post something, prove something. And everything in me wanted to.
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Some people forget too easily. I’m not one of them. I remember every word of every conversation—verbatim. I remember where we stood when we spoke it. What you wore. How your voice sounded when you said it. I remember promises, insults, dismissals, backpedals, and brush-offs. And I carry them like scars. It’s not a gift.…
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You give your best. Say yes. Show up early. Stay late. Open your life. Share your home. Serve behind the scenes without needing credit. But sometimes, the very people you’ve gone to battle for don’t show up for you.
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There’s a unique kind of pain in gospel goodbyes. Not the kind born of betrayal—but the kind born of deep love. The kind that comes when someone who once walked beside you isn’t beside you anymore. David felt it. Paul felt it. I’ve felt it too.
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Jealousy is a master of disguise. It rarely shows up announcing itself. It slips in through comparison. Grows in silence. Explodes in irrationality.
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I just rewrote my résumé for the first time in 14 years. It’s polished. Strategic. Loaded with metrics and milestones. And yet—I can’t help wondering: Will anyone really see my full value in a few bullet points on a page?
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In my professional life, I’m a master of the message. As a corporate communicator and public relations strategist, I shape narratives for a living—helping others see the best possible version of an imperfect story. It’s a skill I’ve honed. A muscle I’ve trained. And one I take pride in. But that same instinct? It bleeds…
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What if the most dangerous kind of leadership isn’t rooted in rebellion—but in panic?
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Saul was the people’s choice. Tall. Impressive. The kind of man you’d expect to win a battle or charm a crowd. And at first, it looked like they chose well.
