Years ago, there was a man with whom I was very much in love. We were best friends. We were basically inseparable. There was one huge, glaring problem between us. My faith. We had hours and hours of discussions, debates, tirades for and against God. Finally, one day, he asked me a question. “Deneen, if someone held a gun to your head, would deny God?””No.””How can I marry someone who loves God more than her own children?”That statement shattered me. Since that moment, I’ve hidden a huge part of me under a basket. In that moment, I learned that I wasn’t enough…that my faith was something to hide, not something to embrace. If I wanted Love. If I wanted acceptance. Let me backtrack further. A few years before that incident, I was a part of a church. I helped to build the church. Literally and figuratively. Things were going okay…until I went on a mission trip and got a taste of what God was calling me to do. And acted on it. God used me to speak into the lives of many people. So much so that the idea was entertained of me staying in England to work with the youth in a church there. I talked to my pastor. Told him what God was speaking to me. And he scoffed at me. Then I went in another mission trip. Same thing happened. God used me in a mighty way. This time, instead of being scoffed at, I was ostracized. Basically shunned. In those moments I learned I was too much. Too much for the church. Too much to control. Not worth the energy of training. I mean, who the fuck would run the slides for the worship service if I were living out my fucking purpose?I started working with mindset coaches. Those bitches (and I mean that with 💯 love) challenged me to open doors I sealed a long time ago…at times when I decided I just wanted to fit in, to blend…to be vanilla instead of a five scoop banana split with all the toppings. Why am I sharing all of this?You see, yesterday God kept asking me, “Do you trust Me? Trust the process.”Then I became fully triggered by a few things. I was a completely irrational hot mess, on a one way trip to self-sabotage, self-destructionville. My knee jerk reaction was to grab wine. But I’m fucking tired of being numb.By food. By alcohol. By social media. By games. So…I pulled out my journal and the work from my mindset course. And I journaled. And journaled. And journaled. For 15 pages. I released a lot of anger. I owned up to my purpose, my called on my life. And then I released it. Not to give up…not to be numb…but to do the work that God has called me to…not for you. Not for money. But simply because I feel like I’m fucking dying when I don’t. I committed to myself to fully show up as who I am…the whole fucking contradiction that I am. Someone who craves the spotlight, a platform to help people release their shit. And someone who is an influencer of influencers. And someone who is obscure…not well-known to the masses because I’m not a soft-drink. I’m a hard shot of aged, expensive bourbon, not meant for the masses. Only connoisseurs. People who actually desire change. And a Christian who regularly uses the word fuck. How is your day doing? I’m ready to tear up the world.
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