So, if you grew up with a lot of siblings, I wonder if you've ever had this happen to you.

You go to church wearing a shirt or a dress, and someone looks at you and says, "Wait... isn't that your sister's?" Or, "Wasn't that your brother's?"

And maybe you were like, "oh no it's not."
Or maybe you said "yeah... it was lol :)"

But whatever camp you find yourself in, what's interesting is that, in some ways, the Bible works a little like that sometimes. Some stories pass along hand-me-downs, the same images, and motifs. Like they may show up in a new story, but they carry the memory of an older one from before.

And maybe just maybe... sometimes water isn't just water.

When we look at Noah's story, we see God using the flood as an instrument of judgment. The waters cover the earth, washing away the old creation, while God preserves life in pairs inside the ark. Then later in Exodus, Pharaoh pretty much commands that every Hebrew baby boy be thrown into the Nile.

The very thing Pharaoh meant to use to destroy God's people becomes the place where God preserves the life to carry... the one who will one day deliver them. And yet, in both stories, water that was meant as judgment become a vehicle God used to bring about a new beginning for His people.

What is even more beautiful is in the beginning Pharaoh meant to drown the babies in water {the Nile}. And somehow God chose to use water {the Red sea} to bring about judgment on Pharaoh and his armies. A divine reversal when Pharaoh's evil is finally judged, my friends. 

So maybe that's one of the beautiful invitations of Scripture. The same images and echoes show up again, leading us to baptism becomes a sign of washing away the old and stepping into the new.

something about motherhood feels sacred
the Creator of the universe choosing 
to partner with humans 
bringing little pockets of light into the world

so when does a mom 
become a mother
is it when she gives birth 
or 
is it when she first carries that seed 
and her body begins to change 
or
is it when she's chasing those short legs running
that same wind in life's hallways
reverberates the same question
in so many ways

at what point in time 
does she become a mother
because what about the mothers 
who never got to see their reflection 
in those wondrous irises

who never got to feel 
those tiny hands grab onto theirs
their body did change
but the seed just didn't sprout the evidence 
life once grew within her
where a woman would steward a seed
then months later laboring
here on earth is no small thing

to the spiritual mothers
adoptive mothers
maternal mothers
grandmothers who gave us legs to stand 
you bear life 
a generosity-tendered garden
"be fruitful and multiply" was the command
and you chose to say yes

liminal spaces are no stranger to you
waiting 
becoming a mother slowly
your body transformed in 9 months
organs moving to make space in space
carved into a new creature
a vessel fit to carry another human

birthing through pain
humming to cries serenades 
of 
i i- i can't help falling in love with you
somehow deep down your brain growing 
discerning which tears meant 
hunger, anger or just poop

finally standing 
this child meets world
a sapling in a crooked world
your words and prayers etched on pages 
written on the chapters in their lives
so they don't depart from The Way 

when sleep escapes you
you still rise 
to feed tiny always-hungry monsters
preparing plates and worshiping 
an altar set in every room 
knowing exactly how much to make or bake
for today
for tomorrow
and for everyone around the table

"wait! the taste is just not right"
you say
adding pinches of this and that
no need to think or even measure it
running to your lavender honey arms
always feel like home
for what goes often goes unseen
for what goes behind the scene

for what you do day after day
kneeling through trenches of love and sacrifice
you said yes to those divine words
formed in our human alphabet 
"be fruitful and multiply"

only our Creator could bless us 
with women like you 
...and you
you were already a mother 
before that seed germinated
before giving birth

and for all that you have become
all that you have written
all that you have given

thank you.

Have you ever had a conversation with someone and then they said something and you were like, wait… I feel like we talked about this before? Almost like déjà vu.

I think Scripture can feel a lot like that sometimes.

In Genesis, Abram (Abraham) goes down to Egypt because of a famine. What follows is a threat to the promise and confrontation. Sarai (Sarah) is taken, God intervenes, and Pharaoh lets her go.

Then you get to Exodus, and suddenly God’s people are in Egypt again. And when that place shows up, we should all be wondering this... what happened the last time we heard God's people were in Egypt?

Because locations in the Bible carry meaning and often when the writer tells us these details it's for us to remember them. And that question alone can help us know what's about to go down. 

So I went back to Genesis while studying Exodus and I saw a pattern. And that changed everything.  

For the longest time, I thought it was the same Pharaoh too. The same person in Genesis and Exodus. But as it turns out friends... the story in Genesis and Exodus are probably hundreds of years apart.

So maybe the bigger invitation is the text not telling us this outright. Because we're not supposed to pay attention to the Pharaoh's identity.  But really ask ourselves what did Genesis Pharaoh do that Exodus Pharaoh didn't do?

Because in Genesis, the showdown is compressed into a single verse. Just that:
[But the Lord inflicted serious diseases on Pharaoh and his household because of Abram’s wife Sarai. Genesis 12:17 NIV]

Pharaoh responds almost immediately. Nobody has to tell him that God is at work. He recognized God's power is greater than his very quickly. He did this:

So Pharaoh summoned Abram. “What have you done to me?” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me she was your wife? 19 Why did you say, ‘She is my sister,’ so that I took her to be my wife? Now then, here is your wife. Take her and go!” 20 Then Pharaoh gave orders about Abram to his men, and they sent him on his way, with his wife and everything he had.” [Genesis 12:18-20 NIV]

Then he releases Sarai and sends them away with lots of wealth.

But in Exodus, Pharaoh resisted over and over again. The confrontation stretches chapters because Pharaoh refuses to accept that God's power is greater than his own. 

The story slows down and lingers there. Yet in both stories, it involves the same kind of tension: God confronting human power.

I couldn't stop thinking about that for weeks... God had a similar confrontation with Genesis Pharaoh. But that one lasted only four verses. 

Just wild, isn't it!? 

So when you look at both stories, it almost feels like Scripture is inviting us to look at them side by side. It was the same location, the same job title (Pharaoh), a confrontation. But the thing is when God entered the picture, they responded completely differently.

And that’s the beauty of how the Bible is written. Sometimes locations and characters carry hidden easter eggs that really teaches us how to see. 

Because sometimes God often is saying something not only through what the text explains in detail, but also through what it compresses. 

And honestly, I just find that so beautiful, my friend.

Have you ever been watching a game with somebody, and then you get up for a few minutes to use the bathroom or get a snack, and by the time you come back, everything feels different? 

People are reacting, yelling, celebrating, and you're just sitting there asking, what did I miss?

That has happened recently in football. 
During the first leg of the semi final in the Champions League, Bayern and Paris Saint Germain were playing, and if you got up for even one moment, you missed so much of the game because goals were happening back to back, back to back. Everything was changing so fast, even when you were actually sitting down watching it.

And honestly, reading Exodus 2 into Exodus 3 felt a lot like that.

Because at the end of Exodus 2, Moses is still being identified as an Egyptian. And that caught my attention because that was the last time he was ever called an Egyptian in the text. 

Then suddenly you move into Exodus 3, and by the very first sentence, he is already a shepherd pasturing flocks.

And I just sat there thinking, wait, what happened?

when did he get this job?

Because the text doesn't tell you anything. 
It doesn't tell you how long had passed. 

It just suddenly drops you into a completely different season of Moses’ life. One chapter ago he was the prince of Egypt on the run after killing an Egyptian, and now he is leading sheep in Midian. Then God calls him from the burning bush.

And I was like... how long has it been? 

How long had Moses been a shepherd before God talked to him?

Then I moved to Acts 7, and that is where it tells you that Moses had been shepherding in Midian for forty years before God said I'm sending you back to Egypt.

Forty years.

God did not call an Egyptian prince. Because that person was left in Exodus 2. He didn't call somebody who had just become a shepherd for one or two years. 

He commissioned somebody who had been tending flocks for forty years.

And maybe that is the lesson in all of this. That God sent a servant as his mouthpiece who had been faithful shepherd for 40 years.

And isn't that something?

there's a boy who became a mother 
and father at 15
the kids weren’t his
but they shared fifty percent of his DNA

how could one become a father
at 5
then at 7
and at 9

how did a boy find out 
he had kids already
when he was himself just in elementary

how did a boy become a father
and the responsibility
to nurture like a mother chose the boy

i don’t know about you
but at 15
all i was thinking about was

will i make it in time for the bus
or what’s for lunch in the cafeteria today
pizza or chicken wings
better stand by the classroom door 
before the bell rings?

honestly
that’s what a teenager thinks at that age
but raising kids
that is just something kids just don’t do

there’s a boy who found his missing rib 
covered five kids’ with a roof
riding on unpaved roads with a bicycle
on the island

the bumps and brown puddles
oh no! they never scared him
somehow he never wondered
what if i fall down in the dirt

he went low as he needed
to raise his kids
to live as kids

giving them a life
that he didn’t have
in the first place

there’s a boy who loved like a mother
and a father 
three kids
when he was also one

sometimes i wonder 
how could a kid give something 
that he didn't receive in the first place
but was the boy really alone striving?

i don't think so.

our Father in heaven is a redeemer
pouring a love on the boy
not bound by circumstances
the childhood that was stolen from him

so if one man exists on earth
that embodies sacrificial love
he’s the closest one i've found

he’s a phone call away
even when i call, he always ask first 
T(.)(.)(.)(.), kouman ou ye?*
a nickname too i'll keep private
his love sealed with many questions 

and when he hears 
those three-letter words
somehow at 60-something 
he still blushes

yet this is not to say there's no friction
family of seven doesn't mean perfection 
but these days 
i've found the truth in our living rooms

where life with Jesus is not about perfect 
but really progress
more like daily 
sanctification

it can be as small as watching a game
arguing about that tackle
that was anything but clean
was it really a foul or that goal offside?

but how did those words come out?
love and delivery must always intertwine 
turns out it's not what you say 
but how you say it

they say like mother, like daughter 
i'd say like father, like daughter 
but this was never about play on words
or similarities about our personalities mirroring

really the whole point of this is...
to give him his flowers

there's a boy who became a man and father
to five kids
his mission was always 
inside those four walls
before anywhere else.

I was talking with my siblings in our kitchen, and somehow we ended up thinking very deeply about the meaning of life, the essence of life.

Translation...
food lol.

And it came from the fact that we all grew up on the island, and coming here felt so different because here they have something called "fast food."

So we started asking a serious question:
Do we actually have fast food in Haitian culture?

And strangely enough, no one could answer.

Just crickets.

Seconds passed.
Minutes passed.

And I know it sounds like a simple yes or no question, but the more we talked about it, the more complicated the conversation became.

Some argued that if something is truly quick to make, then no, we don't have fast food. Others said if anything deep fried counts as fast food, then yes, maybe we do.

Then someone brought up pâté kòde.

And honestly, the conversation got even messier. Because pâté kòde is not exactly quick to make. The dough itself is ideally prepared overnight so the pâté can be soft and delicate.

Then the smoked herring filling alone takes hours to make. You slowly build the sizzling layers with oil, garlic, parsley, green onions, and finally the herring itself. 

And if you want peppers, you can add bell peppers and hot peppers too.

But after all of that, you still have to dice the hotdogs, boil the eggs, and let everything cool.
Because if you don't, the dough will melt you'll have a volcano in hot oil... a recipe for disaster or a serious burn. 

Then finally put everything inside the dough before deep frying the pâté.

So by this point, I know it sounds like... that's a lot of work. I totally agree with you, my friend. It is.

But why are we still talking about pâté?

Well, there's something very interesting about preparing filling portions for the dough. Because in most Haitian households, we don't really measure things. Till this day, I genuinely don't know why. 

My best guess is it’s something that gets passed down through generations lol.

So we almost always end up run out of filling. And that means not every pâté comes out identical.

Some might be missing hotdogs.
Some might not have egg.
Some might barely have enough filling at all.

And strangely enough, that is where character gets tested.

Because after the pâté kòde is done, prepared, fried, and passed around, somebody eventually realizes they received one with all three fillings inside.

And somebody else did not.

And the real question becomes:
Will the person who received more share something they never earned in the first place?

And I've been thinking lately...
isn't forgiveness like that?

Something interesting about forgiveness in the The Lord's Prayer is that it says, “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

And for a long time I used to read that almost transactionally, like I forgave someone, so God You owe me and forgive me too. But is that picture really the whole thing?

Because to say that would also mean that forgiveness is somehow something we earn. 

But forgiveness is not earned. 
Forgiveness is a gift. 
Forgiveness is overflow. 

When we realize the amount of mercy we have received from our Father, completely undeserved and fully given by grace, forgiveness starts overflowing into every area of our lives. 

I started realizing that forgiveness toward others is evidence that mercy has already begun transforming us.

I know this enters interpretation territory, and I may be completely wrong. But I cannot help but notice something interesting about the word “as” in the prayer itself. The “as” almost feels like mirroring language.

Maybe it's not that fear of God withholding forgiveness becomes our motivation (before) to forgive.  And at the same time, this is not to take lightly the real warning Jesus shares in Matthew as a consequence (after) if we don't forgive our neighbors.

[For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. 
(Matthew 6:14-15)]

Like a child can choose to obey out of fear and another child can choose to do so out of love. They both do the same thing, but only one of them gets a new heart that mirrors their Father's.

Maybe the prayer is already expecting forgiven people to become forgiving people. And that is why I keep thinking about pâté kòde lately. Because somebody eventually gets all three fillings inside. Another does not.

The strange thing is that nobody really earned it. The fillings were not distributed based on who deserved more. And the real question was always what happened next.

Would the person who received more hold onto it tightly?
Or would they tear the pâté in half and share something they never earned in the first place?

I think forgiveness works the same way. Because when we truly realize the mercy we have received from God, mercy we did not earn, something begins changing inside of us.

Forgiveness becomes overflow.

The overflow of people who realize they were first loved deeply, forgiven freely, and {filled} completely by grace. 

And maybe forgiven people begin forgiving people the same way someone in a kitchen shares the pâté they never earned in the first place.

Have you ever opened Genesis 10 and thought, why are they giving me so many names? Like, am I supposed to remember all of these? 

And if I’m being honest, for the longest time, I assumed these names weren’t that important. It felt like a long list, one after the other, from more to more to more.

But turns out, there’s more going on.

I went back and started to notice something small but important. Different translations title the chapter differently. Some will say “Descendants of Noah,” others will say “Table of Nations,” and some of them kind of sit in between, blending both ideas together. And I kept thinking, is it one or is it the other? Is this just a family tree, or is it about how the nations came to be?

I was learning that it’s actually both. 

It’s showing you how family becomes nations. And when you look at how the chapter is structured, I saw something strange too... it’s not evenly distributed. 

The same attention given to Ham is not given to Japheth and Shem. It zooms in specifically on Ham and his family line, and then moves more quickly through the others.

And when you start tracing that line, you begin to see names that feel familiar later. Egypt. Canaan. Cities and regions and people groups that are going to show up again in later stories. And then in Genesis 10:15, it says, “Canaan fathered Sidon his firstborn.” And that line almost slows the whole thing down.

Because that’s the only place where “firstborn” is mentioned like that in the chapter.

And I was just like, okay… maybe this isn’t just a list anymore. Maybe it’s highlighting something.

And what’s interesting is that Abraham doesn’t even come from that line. So why spend that much time there? Why give that level of detail?

And that’s where it clicked for me.

It’s not random.

The text is mapping something out. Especially in that section, it’s even giving you borders, how far this side goes and that side goes. The names are not just random names or names to forget. They become places. They become regions. They become the backdrop of conflict and tension that’s going to show up later in the biblical story.

So when the Bible zooms in, it’s never by accident.

It places weight where it wants you to pay attention. It’s almost like it’s saying, something is about to go downnnn here. Remember this.

And then in other places, especially in that same chapter, it compresses and moves so quickly. Almost like it’s saying, yeah this matters, but not in the same way.

So what started to look like a simple family tree or just a simple map of the nations is actually doing two things at once. It’s giving us lineage, and it’s giving us a map. And in doing that together, border by border, name by name, it’s showing us how the ancient world is being shaped.

And that’s what surprised me the most.

Because at first, it feels like a regular list. But the text is being so intentional. It highlights certain names, slows down at certain moments, and invites us to remember them.

And suddenly, what felt forgettable in the beginning becomes something foundational.

Living in between two different cultures or two different states. Have you ever had this moment happen to you?

You go back home for the holidays and people who knew you say that your accent is not as strong as it used to be. And you return to your city and people there can tell that you grew up somewhere else.

It’s not a bad thing. And the whole idea is not even about accents because accents are beautiful. But what I’m really trying to say is that, to a certain degree, many of us have hyphenated cultural identities, shaped in multiple places.

If you moved states when you were younger, or maybe countries, you don’t neatly fit into any boxes.

And just like you and me, Moses is no exception.

Moses was Egyptian by upbringing, but an Israelite by birth. So there’s already this tension in his story, this feeling of living in between worlds.

And when he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, he stepped in—and he didn’t just beat the Egyptian. He killed him. Later, he saw two Hebrews fighting and asked, “Why are you striking your companion?”

And the offender replied, “Are you going to kill me like you killed the Egyptian?”  

But the thing is... why wouldn't they see him as one of them?

And that’s where the story takes an interesting turn.

Pharaoh finds out. Moses gets afraid and goes on the run, becoming a fugitive. And Moses end up at a well.

I read about the well and immediately thought wait... where have we heard about this before? Someone being at a well?
in John.

and who was that person too?
Jesus.

You know how parallel lines mirror each other. Something like that is happening here.

Not exact repetition—but parallelism.
And when you look forward to Jesus as the new and better Moses, that’s where the parallel becomes even more beautiful. And the story keeps echoing forward.

The moment I saw it... I was like wow wowww. 

Moses is at the well → he gets water for the flocks (physical water) → identity is being formed → and he gets married (bride/covenant).

Jesus is at the well → He offers living water → identity is revealed → and a spiritual covenant family is being formed.

And there’s something so beautiful happening there.

In Scripture, wells often become places of transition. Places where people step into a new season, a new identity, or covenant relationship.

Moses had to go through this journey, and the well became that in-between place where transformation started.

The biblical stories echo each other in really intentional ways. So when something in Scripture feels familiar, sometimes that familiarity is the invitation itself... to pause and {dig} deeper. 

 
Turns out... the Exodus story keeps moving forward through women too.

And once you start seeing that pattern, you cannot unsee it.

I remember looking at Old Testament laws and thought they're about oppression. The argument was really the same... the way dowries worked. But the truth is these laws were actually placed within a broken society to bring protection where there was none, especially for women. 

Exodus became that turning point for me a couple years ago. 

Because in this passage, you see Miriam, likely a young girl, watching her brother placed in the river. No one tells her what to do. God doesn't give her explicit instructions. But somehow she stays. She watches. And when the moment comes, she steps forward and speaks. She helps create the very situation that allows her brother to be raised by his own mother.

Then you see the midwives. They are told by Pharaoh to kill the newborn boys, and they refuse. Their fear of God outweighs their fear of Pharaoh. In that moment, they quietly defy the plan of an entire empire. 

And then there is Pharaoh’s daughter. Her role is like a rug being pulled out from under Pharaoh when he least expects it. Because of her, Moses is raised inside the very house that ordered his death. She sees a child and refuses to participate in the system she was born into. She chooses compassion and raises him as her own.

When you step back, the pattern becomes clear. The Old testament honors women. Through the midwives, through Miriam, and through Pharaoh’s daughter, Pharaoh’s plan begins to unravel.

And I want to be careful here, because this is not to say that the work of Moses and Aaron was not important. It was. God used Moses as a deliverer. He called him into leadership. There was weight in his obedience and responsibility.

But Moses would never have been alive, and would never have stepped into that calling, if it were not for these women.

Because you begin to see that both genders are not in competition. One is not elevated at the expense of the other. Instead, there is a pattern. God uses both. He weaves both into the story in ways that are distinct, but very much needed.

There is strength on both sides. There are limitations on both sides. And somehow, in his way, he brings it all together to carry out His plan.

The women are not always given explicit instructions. Yet they move with awareness. They act with courage. They step in at the exact moments that changes everything.

And maybe that is what we miss. Because to say that the Old Testament is not for women is to overlook so much beauty that is already there.

In a culture that was broken, God was present. 
He was working within it, shaping it, and using women to quietly subvert it.  Through moments of courage. Through small, choices behind the scenes.

And maybe that is the beauty we miss when we only read through a modern lens. Because the moment we read it through a 21st century lens, we risk missing out. When we expect the text to highlight both genders in the same way.

Because when we step back, we can see that the Old Testament is just as much for women as the New Testament reveals through women like Lydia, Mary, and Martha.

i keep leaning on this thought 
over and over
somehow that was true then

it came for everyone
back then
back there
back in Egypt

Israel wasn’t innocent
Egypt wasn’t the only one guilty
every door in Egypt was guilty

and maybe
that’s why He gave those instructions
for His people’s doors
to be marked different

so Israel’s firstborns
would be spared

because when the destroyer comes
even they too
would be found wanting

the Passover lamb somehow
the clearest brush of redemption and grace
on their doors

a substitution
dying as them
so they would be found innocent

because when the destroyer comes
justice just won’t skip doors

God can’t break His own standard for justice
if Israel’s doors were to be skipped
conveniently
innocently
without the mark of the lamb

would that mean
He is actually just?

but the Passover lamb
carves His way into the story
as a substitute for sin
so it seems

then fast forward
to Jesus too

a substitute for sin
coming to live and die
100% God
100% human

that somehow
He would take on Himself
the sin of the world
our nature upon His shoulders

so that we
would be found just

could it be
that justice
was personified as the destroyer?

and there’s no exception in this story
not for any of us really
you and I and everyone in between

none are just as we are

the next scene replaying
the same truth on repeat
in the old and new testament

decentering us as the main character
grace covers our doors
by the blood of the lamb.

a question danced in my thoughts
the moment i learned
something from the pulpit
that the story was about two lost sons

one was lost in his goodness
and the other in his badness

i heard it with new ears
that the father ran lifting his dress

the father 
cared so much about restoration
while the older brother
cared more about reputation
i learned

and it's interesting right
how could we miss that
how did i missed that before

that day my eyes were finally opened
both longed for the same thing
what the father had
and not the father himself

so both were lost
both were outside the house

then came the question 
i can't stop pondering
what if the older brother 
had met him on the road first?

well 
we'd probably all take the right guess
while we wait here in the suspense

tears stream down my pen
cause i picture him standing
arms crossed saying
what are you doing here?
do you think Dad wants to see you 
after all you've done to him!

i know this is me filling in the blanks
on a text that is sacred

but i mean no disrespect
painting his brother heart
in 21st century terms
all to say this my friend

he probably would 
never known that love
was waiting for him at the table

but the father had found 
the rebellious son first
clothing him in mercy
and prepared a house party

then the father went out back outside
to fetch the older brother 
blinded by self-righteousness for prison

explaining his heart's reasoning
to go out and find his lost kin
but what did his brother say after?

well we just don't know 
what came out of his lips
turns out the story required 
active participation

leaving us with this mirror
to stare at our reflection so it seems
would the audience hearing 
go into the house themselves?

and now for some reason
i can't help but see too
the letters written by Mr. Screwtape himself
to his nephew Wormwood

about a son blinded by legalism
so much he thinks he's better
than his own mother

isn't that the trap?

falling into religion and not realizing
that you're also in sin
one you can't see like outright rebellion
but in truth also a dangerous poison

both sons were in need of the father
both sons were outside the house
one stepped inside
while the other didn't

which camp do we find ourselves in?

well we each have our default settings
and there's no exception 
but are we aware of the log there planted
a shadow for the life giving tree

in our hearts redemption is knocking
it's not an old story
and no man not one is righteous
that's why He came 

this story began long ago in the garden
a tree is what is all started with
and He was nailed on another
to make us a son and daughter.

nothing today is new
nothing tomorrow will be new

we wake 
we eat
we go to work
we eat again
and then we sleep

every single day
the same routine

we toil under the sun
and we fight against the work
because it’s never done

it’s so hard
it seems
that you never have enough hours in the day

if only i could get everything done
if we only could finish the million things 
after we've pressed the start button

but again
nothing is new under the sun

so why not
I wonder 
stop one day
and just rest

even if the work is not done
even if the responsibilities
keep piling up

nothing is new under the sun

so why not flip the order
first fruits
give it back 
to the Father

nothing is new under the sun
there will always be
something new
to toil against. 

i asked to be used by the Potter
i’m still in awe of getting a callback
every Sunday

i asked to be used by the Potter
He gave me a chair and some cards 
where somebody else would get to say 
for the first time
hello, Father my name is...

honestly, i still get shivers 
rushing through my veins
that He would choose to use 
those unfit hands
to touch every single chair

the one souls warm
sometimes with stories
sometimes with burdens they're carrying

oh what a privilege!
to intercede on that chair
before they got there
that somehow the Spirit
would pour Himself out again

a crimson-orange fire
lit over every single head
is what each time i picture

i asked to be used by the Potter
two circles intersecting
when His temples leave through 
those matte black and white rectangles

taking that fire 
where heaven meets earth 

i said “please use me”
and He said yes
to those hands for His harvest
but why me?
He could've chosen anyone 
if He pleased

but maybe just maybe 
to live for Him
isn’t it really 
to set a chair for another soul 
to meet Him?

Honestly, throughout this series I feel like I learned so much about myself. 

This series was so dear to my heart. It started in a way I didn’t expect, in a way I didn’t want. But ultimately, it became a journey of growth — learning to let go of pride and perfection. Sometimes we'll fail — we have to learn from it and move forward.

I think a lot of times we don’t say this out loud, but deep down we want to be perfect. Yet only one perfect man ever lived. Jesus. 

In some ways, it didn’t always land that way because of how I communicated it. And I’ve learned that sometimes we write the first draft, and then there’s a second draft where you frame it so the message can be received the way you hoped.

And yes, it took me a while to learn how to deliver this message well. But my friends, there is a testimony in the wait.

Part 1) A testimony that joy is not based on circumstance.

Part 2) A testimony where you meet a new side of God you didn't know before.

Part 3) A testimony where you listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit, and lean on community.

And the fourth thing staying here — in Miami taught me is that obedience carries a blessing.

More than anything, that January there was this one Wednesday. A girl was crying, and someone pointed her out to me. I wasn’t even supposed to go to church that night. But now I know why I had to be there.

At first was I just looking for tissues to give her, and then I caught myself thinking, why am I looking for tissues? I need to hurry and talk to her before she leaves. And she began sharing what she was going through. Opening up to a total stranger, and the crazy thing was that the prayer I had been praying for my life was the same prayer she was praying for hers. 

So I spoke life over her. We prayed together before she left that Wednesday, and I realized something: my purpose in that room to speak to her, hug her, and pray with her so she knew she wasn’t alone.

In that moment, because of what I was walking through — because of what I was waiting on — I knew how it felt and could see what she was carrying and connect with her.

Not because I’m special — oh no! God empowers each of us to be a blessing. And more often than not, when we’re in a room, it’s never just about a task. Even when you’re volunteering or serving, it’s about the one person God places in front of you.

And I will tell you — I left January with a better perspective.

I’m sharing this vulnerably because sometimes we think that once we have a testimony, you won't have hard moments or seasons. You will. But even in the fire, you get to be a blessing to someone else. 

The reality is that you can be used by Him right where you are. Because your value is not attached to your career. Your worth doesn’t depend on how much money you make, your promotion, or how fast things happen. Your worth is rooted in who God is and what He did at the cross. 

I don't know what you’re walking through right now, but He is in the thick of it with you. I keep going back to the boys in the fire. They knew there was a fourth man with them. And maybe you’re in a fire right now. You may not feel Him, but He is there.

Keep checking the receipt on your testimony too — all the times He showed up for you — over and over again. In the fire, He refines us. He keeps our gaze fixed on Him.

Because He’s not just trying to give you a blessing — He’s preparing you to carry it well, because what He has for you isn’t just for you. It’s for the people around you too.

And one thing I’ve always said is this: when my blessing comes, it won’t be just for me. I want to help my parents. I want to help my siblings, cousins, extended family. I also want to be generous with everyone God places on my path every single day. 

“You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion.’’—2 Corinthians 9:11

Like a gigantic unit circle that's getting wider and wider. Because living a generous life — that calling has always been in my heart.

So if you’ve been praying a prayer that feels bigger than you, maybe it’s because your heart carries something bigger — and God sees you too.

Don’t fight your battles alone. Keep opening up. Keep confessing. Because walking in freedom isn’t just for you; it becomes a blessing to someone else. 

Your life, your obedience can unlock the key to someone else’s victory because the truth is — we are all really instruments refined through fire in God’s hands.

Growing up, my teachers read straight from the KJV. That’s where all the Sunday school lessons came from. And honestly, I think that was a gift. 

Because later, when I started reading translations like NIV or NASB, I felt even more excited — like rediscovering something I already knew but seeing it with words I could understand. Not with thee lol.

Suddenly, I started noticing how sometimes Scripture leaves certain details quiet while emphasizing other details loudly.  Almost like they’re in a bright yellow highlighter. 

Then pictures of the cross started to show up everywhere, even before Jesus came. 

Like when I was rereading Genesis this year. I kept looking at details that were left out. I saw something wild!

Nowhere in Genesis Noah warned people or evangelizing the way children’s stories often show. I was like wait, it is here somewhere!!! I shall find it!!! But I couldn't find it in Genesis.

I’m not saying it didn’t happen — Because in the New testament they do make some references to Noah. What I’m really saying is that Genesis itself doesn’t put weight there.

Instead, God spends so much time giving Noah detailed instructions about building the ark. And that honestly stopped me. 

Because when God gives details, I don’t think it’s random. In Genesis, it talks about how wide the ark was, how high it was, how everything should be built. 

And I kept asking myself — why would Scripture leave out whether Noah preached and instead focus so heavily on the ark itself? The only thing I keep coming back to is redemption. 

Noah was building something that God would use to redeem the entire creation. There's even a cool word for it too: Synecdoche (pronounced si-NEK-duh-kee), where a part of something is used to redeem the whole.  Like the ark contain specific pairs of animals inside, and Noah's family — that God would use to preserve creation. When I found out about this symbolic layer, I was like whoaaa whoaaaa. 

Another thing I kept noticing is how numbers carry weight in Scripture. Forty often represents testing or divine judgment. And in Genesis, the ark is described as 50 cubits wide.(Genesis 6:15)

Measurements used to make me want to skip ahead — but when I slowed down, that horizontal image really stood out to me. It felt like a picture of humanity held together, preserved inside this vessel God designed — humans, animals, creation, all together.

Then when I jumped to Esther, I saw the same number again — 50 cubits — but this time it was vertical. Haman builds a pole meant to destroy Mordecai, and that very structure becomes the place of his own judgment.(Esther 7:9)

What he intended for evil turns back on him. And I couldn’t help but see divine reversal, divine justice. The horizontal in Genesis reminded me of our relationships with each other and creation, while the vertical in Esther pointed toward God’s justice.

And I know not everything is meant to be forced into symbolism. But I can't help but see the cross in that picture

And more and more, I keep God’s heart for humanity — woven into stories I once thought were mostly about judgment.

So my encouragement to you is simple: keep reading your Word. Come into it asking God for a fresh perspective. Ask Him to open your eyes to see His heart. Because the more you slow down, the more alive it begins to feel. And even if my interpretation isn’t perfect — and I know it may be completely wrong on how I'm seeing come of this.

But I can't help but think still the details God leaves in, and the details He leaves out, are intentional within the bigger story that leads to Jesus.

And honestly, that wonder alone keeps drawing me back to open my Bible again and again.

sometimes words 
don't need to leave my sure lips
for us to meet

sometimes its more simple
than 1 2 3
so it seems

sometimes kneeling
and closing my eyes
is all I need to recenter my spirit

sometimes silence
when I sit at your feet
is more intimate communion
then uttering one syllable

sometimes gazing
into your calm ocean ocean eyes
is more comfort than striving 

sometimes all my prayers
can also be

I look at you
and You look at me
and we're happy.

Back on the island, we had a gigantic water container built into the ground at my house. The inside was sealed with smooth cement — every surface finished smoothly to keep the water clean. That water wasn’t just stored there; we used it for everything. To cook. To brush our teeth. To shower before school.

And when the water ran out, me and my siblings would climb down inside with soapy water and sponges to clean it before they refilled it again.  We'd turned everything and anything into a competition. So instead of cleaning right away, we’d start playing.

Whose voice could be the loudest? Whose echo would last the longest?

And something so cool would happen — our voices would echo. Echo back at us, stronger than we expected really.

Back then it felt like a game. Now I think obedience has a voice like that. It teaches you not to let your voice be the loudest one in your life. 

Most of our lives is spent in the tension of waiting on something. The moment a prayer gets answered we're at the finish line and everything changes again. New tension. New fire.

And with obedience, I always knew this is what He wanted me to do — to stay in Miami. What I didn’t know was how hard it would be. I didn’t know I would have to stay in the fire and be transformed every single day. Out of state companies reaching out. I'd always respond: Thank you so much but No. I wish you luck on your search. People would speak into your life with good intentions — classmates, people who care — would say, “Maybe you should go there.” 

But there comes a moment where you realize: I can hear the Holy Spirit for myself. And when He says stay still, you stay still.

The truth is I always have more reverence for His voice above all else. I don’t ever want to step away from His purposeful fire—move unless He says so. Reaching the end of my life and hear, “Lynn, this is the life you could have lived if you obeyed. Bring other people to Jesus with your life and story. But you didn't listen to My voice.”  

So for 16 months, I've been looking. And I started 8 months before I graduated. Believing that He would come through. 

And yet, one day I cried.

The minute I did, I knew that wasn't normal. I thought of calling my friends. But something felt very off about those tears. So I sought wise counsel instead. That same day I reached out to a mentor from my church. No sleeping on it, we're not about that life here. 

Because no one tells you that obedience comes with an inner transformation. I needed to see the purpose in the wait. And after her speaking life over me that January, something had shifted. Her voice reminded me that God is molding us in the Fire. 

That’s the power of walking with counsel in your church community and learning His voice:
“My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” — John 10:27 (NIV)

When we choose to stay in the fire, transformation happens. Dreams burn. Plans shift. Everything familiar feels like it’s in flames — and yet He gives us new dreams, new plans, a new vision. 

I think about the three Hebrew boys. They didn’t know how God would show up — but they trusted His character. And earlier this week, I shared about discovering God's character in the wait. They honored Him in the wait, believing they were not alone.

And I wasn’t alone either. 
I have spiritual sisters praying.
I have family helping.
I have counsel giving me wisdom.
People checked on me month after month. Almost every Sunday really: “Hey Lynn — how’s the job hunt going? I heard you have an interview this week?  Let's pray over this!”

That’s what leaning on community looks like. And through that God chips away at your pride. He reminds you that life was never meant to be carried alone.

Yes, my emotions were intense for one day. Yes, I’ve been job searching for 16 months. But none of that shook my belief that God would come through. He is providing. He is helping me build deeper relationships. He is shaping a story that will serve others.

Before my golden birthday, I told myself: You've walked this me walk well privately with a few people. You’re also going to obey and start sharing this journey publicly in February because there's a testimony in the wait — you find real joy, meet God's character and learn to seek counsel.

Because getting closer to the blessing doesn't erase the testimony in the middle. Feeling the fire burning everything around you is not bad — it's revealing His faithfulness that carried you through. He wants glory through each of our lives. 

And if you're in that Fire don't try to carry it alone, my friend. Lean into wise counsel and don't keep your inner thoughts life to yourself. Because that will give the enemy a tiny foothold into your life to pull you away from your purpose and calling. Pray to God. Confess to wise counsel. Ask your spiritual sisters for prayer. Journal or record voice notes. Practice gratitude. Serve others. Worship. Exercise. Pursue a hobby. And Do it again. 

You may cry once — but that doesn’t mean God isn’t working. It doesn’t mean you’re in the wrong place. I've said No to opportunities away from here for over a year. Would I say yes now? No. I still believe He will also give me the desires of my heart right here in Miami. 

And even if He changes my path and doesn't give me that exact career — the blessing in the  exact package that I want — something I hinted to in Part 1. He's already done more than enough. Because the reality is that I’ve always had what I needed physically. More than that I've got Jesus. Always.

And one thing I've been seeing so far are the layers and how everything is connected.

Like Fire → that water container protected purity → obedience protects His voice's clarity.

Like Fire → that smooth cement prevents contamination → obedience filters out competing voices.

Like Fire → that echo happens inside a clean space → spiritual discernment happens with accountability, wise counsel.

In the wait, He has taught me how to hear His voice, how to pray in community, how to seek counsel. One person from my church always knew every thought I was thinking about the job and everything in between. And that's a blessing. 

Honestly it feels like standing inside that container again — hearing which voice echoes back the loudest. 

And it was never mine, It’s His. And this feels like only the beginning.

I was thinking about a forest—how there are seasons where it has to be burned for new things to grow. Better things. And the more I sit with that image, the more I see a tension.

Because fire gets a bad rep because it destroys things. If I say everything around me is on fire or in flames. We can immediately think it's negative. But is it really?

Fire also creates space for new life to grow. Fire can symbolize obedience. Fire can be a gift. It prepares the ground of your life into fertile soil for God’s dreams.

I think about when I started serving at my church in 2023. I remember I had a lot of fear to talk in public.  But I kept showing up. In my head, I thought I was doing something for God. But the reality is that He was doing something in me. 

That process felt like a stretch—but it was a good kind of fire. In Zechariah 13:9, He says it like this:
“I will bring them through the fire and refine them.” 

When I think about the story I shared last week, that's also my frame for the Fire series. Realizing that God uses fire to take away old plans. Not saying that God is taking something away from you—but that you get to trust every corner of your life with His purposeful fire. And that in whatever season you find yourself, He can give you a joy that anchors your spirit.

He uses not a wildfire. But a controlled, strategic fire in one area at a specific time. He allows some things to happen in your life. And if things around you catch in flames, old dreams, or plans—that is the best thing that could happen to you really.  Because a lot of times our dreams and plans just look out for us—the vision we have of 'the good life', our lists and milestones. But He wants to do something deeper in us in the wait.

Almost three years later, I couldn’t have imagined the blessing. But what stands out to me now is the blessing and the waiting. In the middle—that space always feels so precious to me because it’s where I met God for simply who He is. 

When I reflect on the thing I'm waiting for. I've learned so far that obedience has also a gift in the middle.

Where maybe for you right now 'the thing' is something different. But what I've learned so far is seeing the testimony in the wait. I’m not saying that you lose hope or stop believing for the blessing at the end.

But that in the middle there is already a testimony. Because you're discovering a side of God’s character you haven’t seen before.

Maybe it's Jehovah Jireh (God my provider), Jehovah Rapha (God who heals), Jehovah Shalom (The Lord Is Peace), Jehovah Nissi (The Lord Is My Banner), Jehovah Shammah (The Lord Is There).

And that my friend, is a gift in obedience.

I’ve always loved the analogy of a ship on a voyage. When you think of a ship, you think of the storms it’s come through, the repairs it’s needed, the wood being replaced over and over again. And at some point, you have to ask: is it the same ship — or a different one?

Different people will tell you different things. Some will say yes, it’s the same ship. Others will say no, it’s a different ship.

That’s how I think about my writing in 2026.
A different ship.

My message — the reason I write — has narrowed down this year. It’s for that one girl who is crying to herself, struggling with insecurity, her mental health, and adulting. So she knows she is not alone — that somebody before her was there, and somebody else made it out. And to show her that in all season God will carry her.

I’m looking back, looking forward, looking sideways in my life story. It’s close and intimate, and since these are things I’ve already processed, faced, and conquered with God and community. One of the things I've been doing since January is removing all the dates at the top or bottom of my writings. I want one girl to come to the words and immediately know she is seen.

God has been using my voice and for that I'm so honored and so grateful. One person said “I’m waiting on something too.
Another said, “I struggle with people-pleasing — how do you stop forcing friendships?”
Another said, “You stay present and pause. How do you always make me feel seen?”

We spoke outside the page — conversations filled with prayer, hope, and honesty. And I realized this is bigger than me. What if I had sanitized my poems? writings? What if I pretended I had never been there?

Now my writing isn’t just about myself. It carries the stories of the women who reached out to me, the quiet courage behind their messages. My writing is raw, honest, and my hope is to connect with one girl. 

Because if I don’t look forward, backward, and sideways in my life story, how can I bring somebody else along with me? 

I want to live a life that is not just for myself, but one that walks with other women facing these things. I am healed. I am whole. But wholeness means you testify about where you’ve been.

“Return home and tell how much God has done for you.” — Luke 8:39 (NIV)

The woods in my ship has changed. Not suddenly — but piece by piece, through seasons of growth and surrender. We're not going backwards but looking ahead. Liminal Letters is narrowing — not shrinking, but focusing. Leaning into a clearer vision: to point one girl through my life story to Jesus through the Heart Call.

I’m choosing to let go of timestamped Letters.
Trusting that one girl after another will step into the words as her present reality — and realize there is more on the other side of what she’s facing.

And this is the new ship I’ll be steering with God this year. Same name but a new vision.

xoxo,
Lynn :)

I have this thing that I always say when I find myself in a hard season, in a season of waiting. I say that I want my life to be on fire, but at the same time, that I would have a joy that doesn’t make sense. A joy that exists even while everything around me is in flames.

And the thing is I've never thought about it this way before.

I never connected that phrase to the story of the furnace. I never thought about the men who were thrown into the fire and somehow had this unshakable conviction that they were not alone in it. 

But that’s the image that keeps coming back to me now—that somehow, in the middle of the fire, they knew there was a fourth man standing with them.

There’s one thing I’m waiting on. One prayer I’ve prayed that hasn’t come to fruition yet. And this waiting has been shaping my soul. I never share things that are still this fresh—things that are only a few weeks old—but I felt like God gave me permission to speak from here to you now. Not later. Not once I have the testimony.

I cried in January. If we’ve never met, this is not normal for me. I usually have joy all the time. Because I believe God is so loving, so good, and faithful.

That day I had tears because I felt the weight of obedience.

I felt called not to leave Miami 16 months ago. That was never part of the plan I had for my life. I had made a plan— and then God set it on fire. Literally lol.

I listened. I stayed. And being in that in-between space—being obedient while still not seeing anything change has been one of the hardest things. Because I could take myself out of this season, but why should my voice be louder than His?

And what I'm seeing over and over again—is that an obedient heart truly reveals itself when we lay something down. Trusting that His plans see further in the distance than ours do.

I realized how often we're just looking at the next milestone, the next thing we need to receive. But the reality is we only need Jesus. If we have Him with us in the fire with us, we have everything — we can have joy.

When I think about joy, I think about lightness. About that quiet assurance that somehow, even here, you will be okay. Not because everything is what you want. But because there's peace waiting for you in His presence. 

Resting in what He’s done for you in the past. But also gazing at Him as He is. About sitting long enough to look at the holes in His hands. He died for us. For you.

So who you are becoming in the waiting— in the disappointments—that person matters to Him so much. That person is who He’s trying to bring into the light through obedience. To introduce you to her. To him.

Sometimes the only way to meet that version of yourself is by obeying when things feel still, when others don't agree,  when it doesn’t look like your plan.

I'm sharing this because hearing testimonies from the other side can encourage us to keep going. 

But at the same time, I think there's a testimony in the wait too. There's so much beauty hidden in the process not just the blessing. Because God meets us there too—in the fire.

Right here you can find real joy. Even if you don’t get the thing in the exact package that you want — He has done more than enough. 

Keep lifting your head. Keep sitting at your father's feet as He holds you in His arms. There is just so much more He has in store for each of our lives.

But a transformed heart is what He has in mind.