Sometimes I’ll look up from my computer or from the television, and in my mind, I see her standing there smiling. Other times I see us at night, after prayer, laying in the bed talking about life. And then there’s my favorite image. Her at the kitchen table with her Bible open and a glass of milk mixed with Pepsi. Yes, milk and Pepsi. I had forgotten about that until recently. Funny how certain memories wait until you’re ready for them.
As I get older, the questions I have about her are different.
When I was young, I just loved her. I ran to hug her. I felt safe with her. Always comfort. Always warmth. Now I find myself wanting to ask her about her dreams.
What did you want as a young girl? Did you imagine marrying and living in Mound Bayou, Mississippi? Did you plan on raising seven children? Did you always know you would go back to school later in life and earn your degree? Or did life unfold in ways you never expected?
We look at the lives of those who came before us and see what they built. We don’t always see what they once imagined.
I also think about her and my mother. They loved each other deeply. That I know. But their closeness looked different than mine did with her. I used to run and hug my grandmother. I ran and hugged my mom too. But I didn’t always see that same outward affection between them. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t distant. It was just different. Every generation carries something different. Some things get softer over time. Some things remain unspoken. And maybe that’s okay.
What I do know is this. I come from strong women. Women of faith. Women who prayed at kitchen tables. Women who endured things they never fully spoke about. Women who kept going.
I also come from strong men. My father. My uncles. My brother. They shaped me too. I watched how they carried themselves. How they provided. How they protected. How they loved their families. And in my young mind, I thought, “That’s what I want.” It wasn’t that I didn’t have the model. I had it. I saw what a man was supposed to be. I raised my boys to be that kind of man.
If I’m honest, the part I’m still unpacking is why I didn’t always choose that for myself.
That’s not on God. That’s not on the examples I was given. That’s on me. Growth means being honest about that without shame.
But here’s the beautiful part. Legacy is not just about what we inherit. It’s about what we refine. The women who prayed before me. The men who modeled strength before me.
They built a foundation.
I am proud of the women I come from. I am proud of the men who shaped my expectations. I am proud of the faith that anchored them and now anchors me.
Maybe the greatest honor I can give my grandmother is this: To keep building. To keep believing. To keep asking deeper questions. And to make sure the next generation doesn’t have to wonder who I was or what I dreamed.
They have mastered the art of pushing us to the edges.
All the way to the Right. All the way to the Left.
Not just disagreement. Not just policy debates. Emotional warfare. They keep you so angry at your neighbor that you don’t see what’s sitting right in the center.
We act like this is new. It isn’t. This strategy is ancient. Divide the masses. Inflame their emotions. Make them feel superior. Make them feel special. Give them a label to defend. And they will police each other for you.
At our core, we crave significance. We want to matter. We want to feel elevated. We want to feel like we are on the better side of something.
What better manipulation than this: Rich is superior to poor. Pretty is superior to not pretty. Light-skinned is superior to dark-skinned. White is superior to Black. Educated is superior to blue-collar. Urban is superior to rural. Conservative is superior to liberal. Liberal is superior to conservative.
Pick your box. Wear your label. Defend it at all costs. And the moment you defend the label, you stop questioning the system that created it.
Division is not random. It is engineered.
If you can convince people they are morally, socially, racially, or economically superior to someone else, you can keep them distracted forever.
You will fight to protect your group. You will despise the other group. You will measure your worth against the other group.
While you are busy trying to prove you are better… Power protects power. Not red. Not blue. Power.
Do you really believe they despise each other the way they train you to despise each other?
They fundraise in the same rooms. They attend the same events. They move in the same circles. They protect the same institutional interests.
But on camera? Oscar-worthy performances. They roar. They posture. They insult. They “stand firm.” And we start unfriending family members and life long friendships. We start resenting coworkers. We start viewing other Americans as enemies.
Meanwhile, the center stays untouched. Files stay sealed. Deals stay quiet. Networks stay protected. Unity at the top. Division at the bottom.
That formula has survived kingdoms and empires for centuries. And the only way it keeps working is if we keep reacting.
We are trained to follow whatever is loudest. The loudest politician. The loudest entertainer. The loudest news cycle. The loudest cultural moment. And yes, sometimes even the loudest church.
Loud does not mean led by God. Volume is not the same as authority. I have walked into buildings with crosses on them and felt my spirit unsettled. Not because of the music. Not because of style. But because something in the atmosphere felt manufactured instead of surrendered.
For a long time I thought something was wrong with me. Why can’t I just stay put at a church? Why doesn’t this sit right? Why does my spirit feel restless? Now I understand.
God was not calling me to be common. Common says show up and check the box. Common says attendance equals holiness. Common says if it looks spiritual, it must be spiritual.
But relationship with God is not a building. Obedience to God is not a membership. Discernment is not rebellion.
God does not need a stage to speak. He does not need applause to move. And sometimes the Spirit will pull you out of noise that everyone else is clapping for.
Not because you are superior. Because you are listening.
As believers, we do not get to opt out of civic responsibility. We vote. We engage. We care. But we do not vote emotionally. We do not vote out of rage. We do not vote because our pride was triggered. We do not vote because the loudest voice told us who to hate. Before you ever step into a polling place, you silence the noise. You step away from the television. You step away from the algorithms. You step away from the emotional bait.
You pray like it matters. Father, silence my ego. Silence my fear. Silence the manipulation. Let YOUR will be done. Guide my hand. Override my emotions. Yes, sometimes it feels like choosing between flawed options. But the Holy Spirit is not confused. And if you walk in there fueled by superiority instead of submission, you are already operating inside their strategy.
Stop defending the box. Stop worshiping the label. STOP BEING COMMON!
You were not created to be emotionally programmable. You were not created to be predictable. You were created to discern.
One day, when the noise finally fades and the smoke clears, the question will not be which side you defended the loudest. It will be whether you had the courage to see through it. Whether you allowed yourself to be herded by outrage or led by discernment. Whether you chose the comfort of belonging to a crowd or the discomfort of standing uncommon.
Choose carefully what you give your anger to. Choose carefully what you give your loyalty to. Because in the end, distraction is loud. Truth is quiet. And only one of them requires you to wake up.
I woke up this morning praying, and thinking about the Epstein files being released, and I’m going to speak from my heart. I have prayed for years for darkness to be exposed. Not for spectacle. Not for gossip. For justice. For the children who were harmed and never protected the way they should have been. Seeing names and information come out doesn’t satisfy me. It reminds me that there is real evil in this world, evil that walks this earth wearing human faces, hiding behind power, wealth, and influence. I am not seeking revenge. That belongs to God alone. Scripture makes that clear. But I will be honest about where I stand. I will not feel satisfied until God’s judgment is met and true accountability happens. Not just headlines. Not just speculation. I am talking about real consequences. Individuals being confronted with truth, arrested if warranted, standing in court, and being held responsible under the law. That is what justice looks like on this earth while God’s ultimate judgment unfolds in His time. I will also be honest about something else. One reason I supported President Trump is because I believed his willingness to disrupt systems and pull back curtains could help expose what has been hidden. I never saw “Make America Great Again” as a call backward into oppression. I saw it as a desire for strength, respect, and financial security for this country. No leader is perfect, but I respect disruption when it challenges complacency. Some people see all of this through politics. Some see headlines. I see it through faith. History and scripture both show that systems sometimes crumble so truth can surface. And beneath all of that, beyond anger or debate, what I feel most is grief. Grief for innocence stolen. Grief for families shattered. Grief for a world where children can be exploited. That grief comes from being a mother, a grandmother, and a protector at heart. I will keep praying. I will keep standing in conviction. I will trust God’s judgment above all. I refuse to live in fear, but I refuse to stay silent in spirit either. God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and sound judgment. That is where I stand this morning.
First things first. I am not a Super Bowl watcher. Never claimed to be. I am a fair weather fan. If the Chicago Bears were playing, I might tune in, check the score, grab a snack, and pretend I understand what just happened on third down. Otherwise? I can count on one hand how many full games I’ve watched in my lifetime, and I’d still have fingers left to hold my drink.
Now let’s get into the real conversation. Football has grown into one of the biggest cultural symbols of America. People love to jump in with historical technicalities about where this or that originated. That’s fine. Y’all enjoy that research project. My point is about what football represents right now. Today. On the global stage.
Millions of people across the world watch the Super Bowl. That platform isn’t just about touchdowns and nachos. It’s messaging. It’s branding. It’s cultural representation whether we like it or not. That halftime stage becomes a snapshot of what America chooses to present about itself.
And just to be crystal clear before someone twists themselves into a knot, my issue is not with ethnicity. Not now. Not ever. That’s not my lane.
My question is about vision.
If we are showcasing America, why are we not showcasing all of America? Why are we still operating in genre silos like it’s a middle school cafeteria? One table over here. One table over there. Nobody mixing. Nobody collaborating. Meanwhile the rest of the world is watching and we’re acting like we forgot we have a whole cultural buffet available.
Imagine something bigger.
Country sharing the stage with R&B. Rock blending with Latin. Gospel bringing soul into the room. Pop tying it together. Artists having their individual spotlight, then coming together for something unified that reflects the full spectrum of this country’s sound and identity.
That’s inclusivity. Not slogans. Not hashtags. Not panel discussions. A real visual, audible collaboration on the largest stage available. Because if we’re going to talk about America representing unity in diversity, the Super Bowl is the place to demonstrate it. Not in theory. In practice.
That’s the America I believe in. Bold. Creative. Collaborative.
Confident enough to stand together instead of separated into neat little boxes.
Y’all aren’t ready for that discussion!
Anyway… y’all carry on. I’ve got snacks, peace, and zero halftime regret.
Black history is American history. It should be told and taught all year long, not separated out as if it is something extra or optional. It should not live in a special month or a special category. It should simply be part of history, because it helped build this nation.
Black History Month has always felt less like celebration and more like containment to me.
It feels like a neat little box where our story can be handled once a year and ignored the rest of the time. Slavery, struggle, speeches. But not much about labor. Not much about innovation. Not much about theft.
You can see it happening in real time. Every February 1st, streaming platforms suddenly unlock what I call their Black vault. Netflix, Hulu, and others roll out rows of Black movies and Black shows and place them into a special category called Black Stories or Black Voices. For twenty eight days, our stories are visible. Then March comes, and the vault closes again.
But here is the real question. Why does it have to be its own category at all. Why are Black stories treated like a specialty aisle instead of part of the main store. Why can’t Black films simply live under drama, comedy, romance, and documentaries like everything else. Why must they be labeled first by race instead of by story. That is not celebration. That is separation with better lighting.
Before slavery, we were building. For nearly two hundred and fifty years in the United States, we were building for nothing. After slavery, we were still building for pennies while other people built wealth.
We built farms, railroads, ports, roads, cities, and entire industries we were not allowed to own. This country did not rise by accident. It rose on unpaid and underpaid Black hands. And while we were building, we were also inventing.
But our patents were blocked. Our designs were taken. Our ideas were filed under other people’s names. Our brilliance became someone else’s legacy.
So what we really inherited was not just chains. We inherited erased credit. Our story did not begin in bondage. It did not pause after civil rights. And it does not fit inside February.
History should not be rationed. Truth should not be scheduled. We helped build this country before slavery, during slavery, and after slavery. We built it with our bodies, and we built it with our minds.
And God saw all of it.
When human records were erased, altered, or stolen, heaven kept the account.
The Western canon tells us this clearly: Malachi 3:16 (NIV) “Then those who feared the Lord talked with each other, and the Lord listened and heard. A scroll of remembrance was written in his presence concerning those who feared the Lord and honored his name.”
God keeps records when humans erase them. Heaven does not lose receipts.
The Ethiopian canon deepens this same truth. In the Book of Enoch, we are taught that the cries of the oppressed rise up and are written in heavenly books, even when earthly records are altered or destroyed. When history edits, heaven archives.
That means stolen credit may live on paper, but truth lives with God.
But I want to be clear about something. Just because these atrocities happened does not mean we are meant to live in a woe is me mindset.
Our ancestors did not survive all of that just so we could sit in it. They rose above it. They fought through it. They kept building, learning, inventing, and pushing forward anyway.
So yes, we tell the truth about what was done. We educate. We expose. But not because we are stuck in pain. We do it because we are proud of where we came from and what we overcame.
This is not about wallowing. This is about remembering rightly.
Tomorrow in Pam’s Pulse – Day Two, we are going to talk about something just as important.
When did we stop believing in our accomplishments and in all the things we were capable of doing. How did communities that are predominantly Black American fall into the state of disarray they are in. When did we allow mental chains to replace physical ones.
I love my country. I am proud of my American heritage. But loving America does not mean worshipping America. Patriotism is loyalty to principles, not blind obedience to power. God does not run nations on pride. He runs them on purpose.
Right now, America is in what Scripture would call an exposure season.
Exposure is not destruction. Exposure is revelation. It is when what has been hidden can no longer stay hidden. It strips away illusions. It shakes confidence in systems. It forces people to ask the questions they avoided when life was comfortable.
I have buried people. I have raised people. I have watched governments fail and institutions collapse. I have seen promises break and power abuse itself. And through every season of loss, rebuilding, and disappointment, one thing has never failed me. God.
That is why I do not panic when systems shake. I have lived long enough to know systems are temporary. God is not.
People are scrambling right now to find the one leader who will fix everything. The one who will shake it up and make it right. That hunger makes sense. But it is misplaced. We already have the only One who can truly shake a nation and heal it at the same time.
God.
When people ask why I supported Donald Trump, my answer is not because I believe he is righteous or flawless. It is because I believed the alternative leadership offered was moving further away from the moral foundation I recognize. I was not choosing a savior. I was choosing alignment.
There is a difference.
In both the Western Bible and the Ethiopian Bible, God repeatedly used imperfect leaders to expose nations and redirect history.
From the Western canon, He used Cyrus, a Persian king who did not worship Him, to free His people. He used Nebuchadnezzar, a proud ruler, to humble an empire. He used Pharaoh’s stubbornness to reveal His power. He even used Rome’s brutality to spread the Gospel.
From the Ethiopian canon, we see this same pattern of God ruling above kings. In the Kebra Nagast, the story of Solomon and Makeda, Queen of Sheba, is not just romance or legend. It is theology. It declares that earthly power must bow to divine authority. It teaches that kings rule by permission, not by right. Ethiopia’s royal line is portrayed not as self-made, but as accountable to God’s covenant.
In the Book of Enoch, which remains part of the Ethiopian Bible, rulers and watchers are judged for corrupting truth and leading humanity astray. Power is never neutral. It is either aligned with God or exposed by Him.
That matters for America.
Exposure always feels like chaos before it feels like clarity. When light enters a dark room, people squint before they see. That does not mean the light is wrong. It means their eyes were adjusted to darkness.
America is squinting right now.
Institutions are losing trust. Media credibility is questioned. People no longer know who to believe. And that is not accidental. When confidence in man collapses, God is saying, look up.
This is not about putting any man on a pedestal. It is about recognizing a season. God shakes nations by placing people in positions of power who will disturb comfort and expose rot. Not because those people are holy, but because the moment is necessary.
God loves America. But love does not mean exemption. Love means correction.
Israel struggled because it wanted to be like the nations around it instead of different. God never called His people to blend in. He called them to stand apart.
And that is exactly where America is stuck.
America struggles because it claims God while governing as if we do not need Him. We say His name, but we do not follow His ways. We quote Scripture, but we legislate feelings. That is not condemnation. That is diagnosis.
And this is where people are missing the real battle.
This is not an emotional fight. It is a spiritual one.
Both sides are pulling at our emotions. Fear. Anger. Pride. Outrage. Hurt. Identity. They keep us stirred up because stirred people do not stop and pray. Stirred people do not discern. Stirred people react.
That is why everything feels chaotic. Emotions are being weaponized. And when emotions lead, wisdom sits down.
If you are praying for God to guide you on who to support, you cannot lead with your feelings. This is not about who makes you feel safe, heard, or validated. This is about who lines up closest with God’s truth. You have to take emotion out of it, because emotions change. God does not.
We are standing at a fork in the road. Repentance or judgment. Humility or collapse. History shows both paths.
So no, this is not Democrats versus Republicans. That is too small for what is really happening.
This is about whether a nation will humble itself or harden itself.
Great nations rise. Great nations fall. God remains.
Patriotism means loving a nation enough to tell it the truth.
And the truth is this. No nation is exempt from accountability. No leader is above God. No power lasts forever.
Only God does.
And if this season is forcing people to ask who they really trust, then maybe that is exactly the point.
There is something deeply wrong with a society that claims to care about children and families, but only when it is politically convenient.
I keep hearing the same phrases over and over. “We care about human beings.” “We care about families.” “We care about compassion.”
But I don’t believe it. Not when those same voices go silent about what is happening every day in urban Black communities across this country.
If you truly cared about families and children, you would be just as loud about what is happening in those neighborhoods as you are about illegal immigrants. You would be just as passionate about Black children walking to school safely as you are about people crossing the border. You would be just as outraged about Black families burying their children as you are about the political narratives of the moment.
But you’re not.
In too many cities, little Black children cannot even walk to school without fear. Crime is so rampant that some kids feel they have to join gangs just to survive long enough to make it home. Parents send their children out the door every morning not knowing if they will come back alive. Empty bedrooms, broken families, and funerals have become normal in places where childhood should be protected.
That is not justice. That is not compassion. That is not love.
And then there is this part no one wants to say out loud. When President Trump attempted to send in the National Guard to help stabilize crime, in some of these cities, to show SOMEONE hears you, the response was, “We don’t need you here.” On the surface, it sounded like pride. But in practice, it meant rejecting help that could have saved lives. Instead of keeping hope alive, politics kept crime alive.
You cannot say Black lives matter while refusing solutions that might actually protect Black lives. You cannot claim to care about Black communities while fighting anything that might disrupt the chaos that keeps those communities trapped.
What this reveals is not compassion. It reveals control.
Because you fight harder for the so-called “rights” of people who entered this country illegally than you do for the basic survival rights of Black Americans who were born here. You will march, riot, and shout for illegal immigrants, but you will not fight to ensure Black children can walk to school safely, Black families can live without fear, or Black communities can survive their own streets.
That is not justice. That is optics.
And here is where the deeper truth sits.
This was never about saving lives. It was about controlling the story. And not just the story, but the people. Not only was history rewritten over the centuries, now the present and the future are being shaped the same way.
You do not want Black people rising. You want them dependent. You do not want strong families. You want broken ones. You do not want safe neighborhoods. You want fear. Because fear is easier to manage than freedom. This is how slavery survives without chains.
On paper, slavery was abolished. But in practice, new systems were built that produce the same outcome. Laws and policies replaced whips. Programs replaced plantations. Bureaucracy replaced overseers. The language changed, but the result stayed the same. Control. Dependency. Silence.
It looks legal. It sounds compassionate. But it keeps people trapped.
So do not tell me you care about families. Do not tell me you care about human beings. Because if you truly believed that, you would not be silent about what is happening to Black children in urban America. And you would not block help when it appears.
Here is the truth people do not want to face. If your compassion only shows up when it benefits your politics, it is not compassion. If your outrage only shows up when it can be weaponized, it is not justice. And if your solutions never reach the communities that are bleeding the most, then you were never trying to save them in the first place. You were trying to control them.
If you hate the plan, show me a better one. That’s where I’m at.
If Donald Trump said water is wet, some of y’all would still have a problem with it. You’d twist yourselves into intellectual knots trying to explain how it’s racist, offensive, or proof of moral failure. Not because it is, but because hating Trump has become a full-blown personality.
That’s not discernment. That’s absurdity.
And I’m past confused. I’m irritated.
I truly do not know what Democrats or modern liberals stand for anymore when it comes to running this country or shaping the future of the United States. I don’t hear policies. I don’t hear vision. I don’t hear solutions. I don’t even hear a coherent plan for everyday people.
All I hear is anger. All I see is hatred. All I experience is nastiness.
The platform, as far as I can tell, is anti-Trump. Full stop.
Not pro-worker. Not pro-family. Not pro-economy. Not pro-America.
Just opposition for the sake of opposition.
If you actually care about fixing this country, about stabilizing this world, about helping the people who live in it, then you have to bring ideas to the table. Real ones. Hard ones. Thoughtful ones. You cannot lead a nation by rejecting every idea on principle and offering nothing in return.
That’s not leadership. That’s reaction.
And let me be clear about something else.
I am not looking for a savior. I already have one. His name is Jesus Christ.
I am not asking a politician to save my soul. I am asking leaders to do their jobs. To govern. To propose policy. To take responsibility. To be willing to be challenged on ideas instead of hiding behind outrage and insults.
I don’t do political idols. I don’t do political hysteria either.
Blind hatred is just as useless as blind loyalty. One side refuses to acknowledge any idea because of who said it. The other refuses to critique anything because of who said it. Both are unserious. Both keep us stuck.
I’m looking for solutions. I’m looking for strategy. I’m looking for outcomes.
Right now, all I see is a lot of people more committed to hating one man than loving this country or caring about the people who live in it.
And that is a problem.
If you hate the plan, show me a better one. If you hate the messenger, bring a message. If you want to lead, then act like an adult.
Because anger without vision is just noise. And noise doesn’t build nations.
In a recent Minneapolis incident, a woman was fatally shot by an ICE agent after she interfered with a federal enforcement operation.
She drove into an active law-enforcement situation, refused to comply with commands to stop, and obstructed officers from doing their job.
That is noncompliance. That is obstruction of justice. That part is not debatable. She was wrong.
Her choices put herself, officers, and others in danger, her actions also left 3 children without their mother. Actions have consequences.
Now here’s the part we still have to get right.
Acknowledging that she was wrong does not mean we celebrate her death. Because death is not a victory. And God does not rejoice in destruction.
The Ethiopian Scriptures, the oldest preserved Biblical canon, make God’s heart toward life very clear. “God did not create death, and He does not delight in the destruction of the living.” Wisdom of Solomon 1:13 Ethiopian Canon
God is not in the business of cheering when someone dies. He is the God of life, mercy, and restoration. The Ethiopian Scriptures also tell us how to treat others, even when we strongly disagree with their actions. “Do not do to anyone what you yourself hate.” Tobit 4:15 Ethiopian Canon
If we would not want our own loved one mocked after a tragedy, we should not mock someone else’s.
The Western Bible later echoes that same ancient wisdom. “Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and do not let your heart be glad when they stumble.” Proverbs 24:17 Not your enemy. Not someone you disagree with. Not someone who made a reckless choice.
You can hold people accountable without celebrating their death. You can support law enforcement without cheering a fatal outcome. You can stand for the law without losing your humanity.
When someone on the right is murdered, people on the left mock it, that’s wrong. When this woman was killed and people on the right mocked it, that is wrong too. Different politics. Same lack of compassion.
God does not want His people clapping over coffins.
The Ethiopian Scriptures teach us that grief is sacred, because every life belongs to God, not to public opinion. Mourning honors the seriousness of life and the weight of loss.
The Western Bible echoes that truth. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:4
Not blessed are those who mock. Not blessed are those who celebrate. Not blessed are those who turn tragedy into a talking point. Children are grieving. Families are hurting. Lives have been permanently changed. This is not the time for jokes. This is not the time for applause. This is the time for restraint, reflection, and compassion.
God calls us to be firm in truth but gentle in spirit, strong in principle but soft toward suffering. Because if we lose compassion, we lose our witness. And no political victory is worth that.
Christmas has always mattered to me. The time with family. The traditions passed down. The intentional pause that draws our attention toward Christ. None of that is wrong. None of it needs to be discarded. What matters is understanding what we are actually celebrating. The Bible does not give us a specific date for Jesus’ birth, and it never tried to. Scripture tells us the story, the setting, the purpose, and the fulfillment. The absence of a date was intentional, because the focus was never meant to be a calendar day. It was meant to be the arrival of Christ. Historically, December already held significance in the Roman world. Several festivals took place during that season, including celebrations centered on light, renewal, and the turning of the year. As Christianity spread under Roman influence, existing traditions were often repurposed rather than erased. The birth of Christ came to be associated with December in part because Jesus was understood as the Light coming into the world, and aligning His remembrance with a season already focused on light made the transition easier for new believers. This was not about altering who Jesus was, but about how His coming was introduced within an existing cultural framework. The story of Jesus’ birth appears in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke in both the Western canon and the Ethiopian canon. The accounts are the same. The difference is not what is told, but how much context is preserved. The Ethiopian Bible, which is older and more expansive, retains surrounding historical and cultural details that the Western Bible mirrors the Ethiopian Bible but presents in a more condensed form. Not a different Jesus. Not a different message. The same story, told more fully in the Ethiopian Bible. Shepherds were in the fields at night, tending their flocks. Travel was active and ongoing. The environment described does not reflect winter conditions. These details are present in Scripture and preserved more clearly when read through the broader Ethiopian canon. The Western Bible retains the story, but in a more condensed form. That difference does not weaken Scripture. It strengthens our understanding of it. Knowing the season of Jesus’ birth does not change who He is. It does not diminish Christmas. It does not strip meaning from tradition. It simply reminds us that December 25 is a chosen day of remembrance, not a documented birthday. And that’s okay. People should continue celebrating Christmas. Family matters. Traditions matter. Shared moments matter. None of that is wrong, and none of it dishonors Christ. But Jesus was never meant to be honored only once a year. Christmas gives us a collective moment to pause and remember His coming, but Jesus calls us to recognize Him, follow Him, and celebrate Him throughout the entire year. His life, His teachings, and His presence were never confined to a season. Understanding that doesn’t take anything away from Christmas. It puts Christmas in its proper place. We are not celebrating a date. We are celebrating the arrival of our Lord and Savior. And that arrival is worthy of remembrance every single day.
Being Strong Isn’t the Same as Being Called to Everything
There’s a kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix.
Not physical tired. Not even emotional tired.
It’s the exhaustion that comes from constantly engaging. Constantly responding. Constantly explaining. Constantly standing in fights that don’t actually move your life forward.
Lately, I’ve been sitting with a quiet realization. I’m not tired because I lack strength. I’m tired because I’ve been spending strength where it was never assigned.
And that hits different.
Because strong people are expected to handle everything. We become the voice of reason. The truth-teller. The fixer. The educator. The one who can “take it.”
So we jump into arguments. We correct misinformation. We absorb people’s projections. We carry conversations that were never meant to be ours.
And slowly, our spirit starts to dim.
What makes it heavier is this question I keep turning over in my heart:
If I stop engaging, will people think I’m weak Or scared Or avoiding truth Or backing down
But here’s the truth I’m learning.
Silence is not surrender. Boundaries are not fear. And disengaging from chaos is not the same as abandoning purpose.
When I look at Scripture, I don’t see God applauding constant engagement. I see Him honoring focus.
Nehemiah understood this long before we had comment sections and social media timelines. He had one assignment. Build the wall.
And while he was doing exactly what God called him to do, the noise showed up. Mockery. Distraction. False urgency. Invitations to argue. Invitations to explain. Invitations to come down and address people who had no intention of helping him build anything.
Nehemiah didn’t insult them. He didn’t defend himself. He didn’t debate motives.
He simply said he couldn’t come down because he was doing a great work.
That one sentence carries so much wisdom for today.
Because the moment you step into what God has called you to do, the distractions come dressed as responsibility. As righteousness. As “speaking up.” As “educating.” As “standing your ground.”
But not every fight is a calling.
The Ethiopian texts echo this same truth quietly but powerfully. Baruch, who walked closely with Jeremiah, wasn’t assigned to fix the people’s rebellion or convince everyone to change. His responsibility was to preserve the word. To protect what God placed in his hands.
When Baruch carried that responsibility alone, he grew weary. Not because the assignment was wrong, but because the weight around it was heavy.
And that feels familiar.
We are living in a time where outrage is rewarded. Reaction is expected. And disengagement is misunderstood.
People want your energy on demand. They want you to explain history, politics, race, faith, and morality in a comment box. They want access to your emotional labor without offering respect, curiosity, or growth in return.
And strong people keep showing up.
Until they burn out.
I’ve started to recognize when I’m outside my assignment.
It shows up as constant irritation. A heaviness before I even open an app. The feeling that I’m responding more than creating. That I’m explaining more than building. That I’m defending instead of resting.
That’s not weakness. That’s misalignment.
Purpose energizes. Distraction drains.
Here’s the part that’s uncomfortable but freeing at the same time.
Some people are not meant to understand you in this season. Some conversations are not meant to be resolved. Some arguments are not meant to be won. And some battles exist solely to pull you away from what you’re actually called to do.
Strong people burn out when they fight outside their assignment.
Not because they aren’t strong enough. But because strength was never meant to be used everywhere.
I’m learning that my peace is not optional. My focus is not negotiable. And my assignment deserves protection.
I don’t owe everyone my voice. I don’t need to attend every argument I’m invited to. And I don’t have to prove truth to people who are committed to misunderstanding it.
This isn’t avoidance. It’s wisdom.
This isn’t silence. It’s discernment.
This isn’t stepping back from truth. It’s stepping deeper into purpose.
When I stay in my lane, my strength returns. When I stop fighting unnecessary battles, my clarity sharpens. And when I honor my assignment, exhaustion no longer has the final word.
Strong people don’t burn out because they’re weak. They burn out because they’ve been carrying what was never theirs.
And I’m choosing, intentionally, to stay where I’m assigned.
A friend made a comment that stuck with me. He said, “We need to stop giving money to any university”. I could have kept scrolling, but something in me paused. It bothered me because it made me ask a question I had never asked before. How much money is actually being poured into these institutions. And why is the federal government even involved. His comment sent me down a rabbit hole.
So I started digging.
The deeper I went, the more the picture shifted. Everything we think we know about higher education starts to fall apart once you pull the curtain back.
We assume federal dollars help students. We assume federal dollars support education. We assume federal dollars pay for classrooms, professors, and learning.
That is not the story.
When the federal government first started funding universities, it had nothing to do with student education. It had everything to do with what the government needed. Not what students needed.
During the early 1900s, the government wanted to strengthen agriculture and industrial development, so money went to land grant colleges. After World War Two, the government wanted to reintegrate millions of soldiers, so the GI Bill opened college doors. Then came the Cold War. Suddenly the government needed scientists, engineers, weapons experts, aerospace innovators, medical researchers, and technology creators. So the federal money exploded. Universities were not chosen because of students. Universities were chosen because they had the ability to build what the government wanted.
And just like that, colleges became research partners, government contractors, and innovation hubs. Federal dollars did not go to lower tuition. They did not go to reduce debt. They did not go to help families. They went into research labs, medical centers, engineering buildings, and private industry partnerships.
The entire structure of federal funding was built for national needs, not student needs.
And here is where my perspective shifted. Based on my research and everything I am learning, I now see exactly what my friend meant. No federal dollars should be going to colleges and universities. Pell Grants made sense because tuition was already so high that students needed help. But the moment the federal government started loaning the money directly to students, everything changed. Colleges raised their prices because they knew the government would cover it. Students signed loans they could not escape. And the federal government created a cycle where students spend years paying back money that should never have been borrowed in the first place. This was not a gift. This was a financial trap. A revolving door of money flowing from the government to the universities and from the students back to the government with interest. But I digress. Let’s get back to education.
Once you understand the true purpose of federal funding, the next question is impossible to ignore. If the federal dollars were never meant for students, then what does that say about how this system truly operates. Because while universities were being built into national research engines, Black people were not even allowed into most Predominantly White Institutions. Our ancestors created Historically Black Colleges and Universities because they had no other choice. The doors were closed everywhere else.
And here is the truth that cannot be softened. The government built this divide. The government funded this divide. And the government still protects this divide.
This is why the comment from my friend was so important. When he said that no federal dollars should be funding education, he was one hundred percent correct. If the federal government had never taken control of higher education funding, they would have never been able to create this split to begin with. The opposition, which is the federal government, would never have been able to pit HBCUs against Predominantly White Institutions. This is part of a much larger pattern. Divide people by ethnicity. Divide them by pigmentation. Divide them by who receives access and who receives leftovers.
And look at how they did it. They shut Black people out of the well funded universities, then told us to go build our own. But even when we built HBCUs with brilliance and grit, the federal government refused to level the playing field. They fed money into the institutions we were excluded from and delivered only a fraction to the schools we created. They undereducated our children in elementary, middle, and high school. They withheld equal classroom resources. They controlled which history was taught and which history was erased. And then people wonder why more students from predominantly Black communities don’t attend these heavily funded white institutions even though the doors are now legally open.
Because the divide was never just financial. It was cultural. It was educational. And it was intentional.
So when I look at the money, the access, the curriculum, and the outcomes, the truth becomes impossible to ignore. The system was not built to be fair. It was built to maintain advantage. And it did exactly that.
Why I Will Not Shrink for White Liberals or Black Liberals Who Want to Think for Me
Every time I open my mouth as a Black conservative woman, somebody thinks they need to correct me. And let me be clear about something from the jump. Nine times out of ten, the ones trying to “educate” me, shame me, or drag me back into the mental basement are White liberals and Black liberals who have bought into the same script written for them by the Democratic Party.
And here is what people do not want to talk about.
White liberals love to act like they are the referees of Black thought. They want to decide which Black voice is authentic and which one needs “saving.” They show up with their savior complex, convinced I need them to explain my experience to me. They think my beliefs, my convictions, and my political stance must have been handed to me by a White conservative puppet master. Meanwhile they are the ones being spoon fed by mainstream media, hollywierd, the education system, and the politicians on the left telling them what to think about Black people every single day.
And yes, I have had Black liberals come at me too. But overwhelmingly, the racism I have personally experienced throughout my life came from White liberals. In boardrooms. In leadership roles. In committee meetings. In classrooms. The ones who smiled while saying, “You’re one of the good ones.” The ones who told me, “You are not like the others.” The ones who said, “We do not expect people like you to be able to do that.” The ones who insisted that getting an ID or a driver’s license is too hard for Black people, but not for them or their children.
That is racism. Do not sugarcoat it. Do not spiritualize it. Do not dress it up in “progressive language.” It is the same mindset from the plantation, wrapped in a softer tone and marketed as compassion.
Today they are not whipping our backs. They are whipping our minds.
And here is where I need you to think.
During slavery, White liberals controlled Black people through physical force. Today the Democratic Party tries to control us through dependency. They are not selling our children to different plantations anymore, but they are still destroying our families by encouraging a lifestyle that weakens our structure from the inside out. Many having a bunch of babies by many different men. This destroys the Black family structure. They are still lowering the bar, still pushing a curriculum in predominantly Black communities that keeps our children academically behind. They are still normalizing behavior they would never tolerate in their own neighborhoods or from their own children.
They keep pushing this lie that all Black women should care about is being sexy. They act like spirituality is outdated, that being the woman of the house is old fashioned, that marriage is oppression, and motherhood is settling. They want Black women loud, exposed, sexualized, and disconnected from everything that once made us powerful. Because a grounded Black woman is harder to control than a distracted one. A spiritually anchored Black woman will not bow to anyone’s narrative. A Black woman who knows her worth in God cannot be manipulated. They do not want that. They want the version of us they can manage. But a woman who honors her home, her purpose, and her God is unstoppable.
There is no difference in the mindset. Only the method.
So, ask yourself why they work so hard to keep the bar low for us. Why do they celebrate struggle for us but excellence for themselves. Why do they fight so aggressively to maintain the idea that we are incapable unless they step in.
And while we are asking the hard questions, let us ask this one too.
Why were we the only enslaved people in world history who were forbidden to keep our original culture?
Every other enslaved group throughout history kept their identity. Their language. Their names. Their customs. Their spiritual heritage. Their food. Their family lineage.
We are the only people whose culture was systematically erased. That should tell you something. That should make a light come on in your spirit.
Why was it so important to stop us from knowing who we were before slavery?
What were they afraid of?
Because here is the truth that the Democratic Party does not want you to uncover.
We were powerful before the ships. We were brilliant before the chains. We were builders, thinkers, warriors, inventors, scholars, farmers, navigators, mathematicians, spiritual leaders, and architects before anyone ever laid eyes on us. That was who we were in Alkebulan, the original name for the land today called Africa, the cradle of civilization.
And that greatness was not only across the ocean. Many of our ancestors were already here, long before colonization and long before slavery began. That is part of the truth they do not want you to find. Because once you know that not all Black Americans came here chained in the bottom of ships, and that some were already on this land with skills, culture, and civilization, the whole story changes, and you start to wonder, what else did they lie about.
The Democratic Party cannot survive if Black people wake up to who we really are. They need the victim narrative. They need the dependency. They need the power. They need the bar low, so we never look up. They need us stuck on the hamster wheel they built. Because if we ever rise to our original identity, we would leave their plantation of thought overnight, and slavery would truly be over.
And here is what Black people MUST take accountability for.
We got comfortable. We accepted the handouts. We accepted the lowered expectations. We accepted their version of who we are. We let them dictate our worth, our struggle, our future, and our place in this country.
And we forgot that our greatness existed before slavery, before politics, before the Democratic Party existed, before America even became a nation.
So let me say this clearly.
Stop letting people who do not know your history tell you how to think. Stop letting the same people who rewrote your history tell you how to think. Stop letting people who do not want the truth dictate what truth is. Stop letting people who fear your awakening convince you to avoid researching the real history.
Because once you see the truth, you cannot unsee it. Once you know the fullness of our history, you cannot stay in the box they built for you. Once you understand the power in your lineage, you cannot remain dependent on people who benefit from your dependency.
Once you know your true identity, you stop shrinking to fit the expectations of people who do not even know their own identity. You stop letting politics define your worth. You stop lowering yourself to meet the limits someone else placed on you. You stop apologizing for thinking freely. You stop bowing to narratives built to keep you dependent. You stop being afraid of rejection from people who were never rooting for you anyway.
And let me make this clear for everyone reading.
For ALL my brothers and sisters out there regardless of race, Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, Native, and everyone in between. You are not who the Democratic Party says you are. You are not the stereotype they push. You are not the limitations they place on you. You are not the narrative they need you to play out so they can continue to feel superior, powerful, and morally elevated at your expense.
You have a God given identity. You have a God given mind. You have a God given purpose.
And if you do not take the time to research your true history, someone else will hand you a counterfeit version and expect you to live by it.
I am a Christian Black Conservative woman and I am unbothered. Not because everybody agrees with me. Not because I expect them to. But because I refuse to be mentally enslaved by a party that needs me to stay dependent, resentful, uninformed, and small.
I said what I said. And I will keep saying it until we stop living under a story that was never ours to begin with.
Western Bible: King Josiah, 2 Kings Chapters 22 and 23 The people had forgotten who they were. They were living under a story that was not theirs anymore. Their identity had been rewritten. Their faith was mixed with lies. Their history had been hidden. Their truth was buried. Then Josiah found the Book of the Law and said, we will no longer live by someone else’s version of us. He tore down false altars. He restored truth. He restored identity. He restored the foundation that had been lost. He did not shrink back. He rose up.
Ethiopian Canon: Book of Jubilees, Chapters 10 through 15 God reminds the descendants of Abraham who they are, where they came from, and what covenant runs through their bloodline. God brings them back to their roots. He restores what was forgotten. He reclaims what they did not even realize had been lost. That message speaks today. God is calling us to rediscover the truth beneath the lies.
I refuse to be small. And I refuse to let anyone else shrink me. Not White liberals. Not Black liberals. Not anyone who thinks they get to think for me.
I keep seeing our community defend a version of ourselves that is so far beneath who we actually are. A version the Democratic Party keeps pushing. A version the Democratic Party needs us to believe. A version that shrinks us, limits us, and keeps us mentally stuck at the bottom.
And too many of us have accepted it without questioning a thing.
Let me tell the truth clearly. We did not begin in chains. We did not begin on plantations. We did not begin at the bottom. Our story did not start in pain.
Our story began in Alkebulan, the ancient name for Africa. A name that means Mother of Humanity. A name connected to wealth, brilliance, and spiritual depth long before colonizers renamed everything.
We come from builders, rulers, mathematicians, traders, warriors, and scholars. We come from nations that shaped global trade and influenced entire civilizations. We come from people who mapped stars while others struggled to understand seasons.
Western Bible
The lands of Cush and Ethiopia, Sheba and Ophir, are mentioned with honor. These were wealthy, respected nations. Not poor. Not weak. Not broken.
Ethiopian Canon
Books like Jubilees and Enoch describe the descendants of Cush and Sheba as builders, leaders, and keepers of wisdom. They were foundational people, not forgotten ones.
So do not let the Democratic Party tell you we began in chains. Do not let the Democratic Party tell you our history starts in cotton fields. Do not let the Democratic Party convince you that slavery is the full story of who we are.
And now let me talk to us. Because this part is ours to own.
We also have to be honest about how comfortable we became. We got comfortable with the handouts. We got comfortable with the “we will take care of you” promises. We got comfortable with lowered expectations. We got comfortable defending survival instead of demanding elevation.
That comfort cost us our identity. That comfort cost us our confidence. That comfort cost us our future.
We let the Democratic Party strip us of our greatness because settling felt easier than rising. We let their narrative become our identity and forgot that God already placed royalty in our DNA.
Here is the truth that hurts and heals at the same time.
We are not a defeated people. We are not a delayed people.
We are a people who forgot what was already inside of us.
We built Black Wall Street. We built inventions that shaped American industry. We built communities that thrived even under oppression. We built this country. We built legacies. We built families with strength and dignity.
We forgot because the Democratic Party needed us to forget. But forgetting is not the same as losing. And remembering is the beginning of rising.
Western Bible
John chapter 8 says the truth will set us free. Truth frees the mind before it frees anything else.
Ethiopian Canon
Jubilees chapter 1 verse 25 says God will send His angels before us to keep us in all our ways and bring us into the land of truth and righteousness. Truth and righteousness are identity. Truth and righteousness anchor us back to who we were created to be.
Once you see the truth, you cannot unsee it. Once you remember our greatness, you cannot pretend we were meant for the bottom. Once you understand the power God put in us, you cannot defend chains that are not even locked.
Because of our greatness Because of our ancestors who built and fought before us Because of the royalty that runs through our blood We have a responsibility to rise.
We owe our children elevation. We owe our grandchildren legacy. We owe ourselves a future that honors all we were before the Democratic Party rewrote us.
We were never meant to live small. We were never meant to survive at the bottom. We were meant to rise.
Let me go on and tell you the truth of what happened in those quiet hours of the morning. God caught me. Not in a bad way, but in that gentle but powerful way He deals with me when I am finally still enough to hear Him.
I had to face something in myself. Something I did not even realize I was doing.
I have been holding back from God.
Not because I do not love Him. Not because I do not trust Him. But because surrender requires exposure. It requires honesty. It requires letting God touch the parts of you that you do not have language for.
And if we want to be real, I am not the only one who does this.
So many of us want God to stay small and familiar. We want the God we already understand. The God who fits inside a verse we already memorized. The God who behaves like the sermons we already heard growing up. A God who will not stretch us, push us, mature us, or challenge the small view we have been holding.
We want God to fit inside our box, instead of realizing we were created to fit inside His vision.
Look at Moses. He is the perfect example.
Moses questioned everything. Moses doubted himself. Moses straight up asked God why He would pick somebody like him. He did not feel qualified. He did not feel capable. He did not feel confident.
But God did not shrink Himself to Moses. God expanded Moses to match the calling.
Western Bible. Exodus chapter 3, especially verses 11 and 12.
Ethiopian Canon. The same story appears with even more depth in the Book of Jubilees where Moses’ purpose is described long before he is born.
And let me pause to say this, because I know it makes some people uncomfortable.
When I bring up the Ethiopian Bible, folks start thinking I am trying to replace scripture or introduce something strange. No. I am not adding anything. I am uncovering what was already there.
The Ethiopian Bible came before the Western one. That is historical fact.
If the earliest followers of God used it, taught from it, and preserved it, why would learning from it be considered dangerous now. If it deepens my understanding of the same God and the same Word, why would I ignore it.
Western Bible. Isaiah chapter 55 verses 8 and 9 remind us that God’s ways and God’s thoughts are higher than ours.
Ethiopian Canon. In First Enoch chapters 93 and 94, God reveals to the prophet a timeline so wide and so detailed that it shows humanity’s story through ages, not just moments. It is a reminder that God has been thinking far ahead of us long before we were even here.
I am not abandoning the Western Bible. That is my foundation. That is where I began. That is the Word I grew up on. I will always learn from it.
What I am doing now is expanding. Comparing. Studying. Listening. And being humble enough to admit that God is bigger than the limited version of Him I used to carry.
The interesting thing is this. The same Jesus. The same God. The same truth runs through both canons. The difference is that one did not take anything out.
So when I post a Western scripture without mentioning the Ethiopian one, it is because the message matches. When I reference the Ethiopian canon it is because it adds insight without changing the truth. I am not doing this to argue or to stir controversy. I am doing it because I want to grow. I want to stretch. I want to stop pretending that God fits inside the borders we drew for Him.
Look at Peter.
Jesus did not call Peter to walk on water while he was standing in certainty. Jesus called him while everything around him was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Peter did not sink because of the storm. He sank because he looked back to the familiar instead of staying focused on the One who was stretching him forward.
Western Bible. Matthew chapter 14 verses 22 through 33.
Ethiopian Canon. The Book of Clement references the same Peter and reminds the early church that true faith will always require stepping out of what feels safe.
I do not want a small God. I do not want a small life. I do not want a small calling.
I want the God who spoke galaxies into position. The God who breathes on things I cannot see yet. The God who moves in dimensions beyond human logic. The God who has been trying to expand me while I have been trying to shrink Him to my comfort level.
So today I am surrendering.
I am done holding back. I am done playing safe spiritually. I am done acting like God is only allowed to move in the ways I already understand.
I want His fullness. I want His depth. I want His scale. I want every corner of who He is.
Break every box I put You in, Lord. Break every box that was handed to me by religion fear comfort or tradition. Break the boxes in me and break the boxes around me.
I am ready. Expand me. Stretch me. Lead me where You want me to go. I will not apologize for wanting more of the God who made me.
Let me tell you what set this whole thing off. I was scrolling through one of those so called Black Excellence or Black First pages I troll every now and then, and somebody tried to clap back at a post about food stamp statistics by saying something that made me stop mid scroll.
“Well more white people get food stamps than blacks.”
And the person said it like they just dropped a mic. Like that was the moment I was supposed to sit back and say, “You know what, you are right. Let me hush.”
No ma’am. No sir. That is not the victory some people think it is.
I do not know when surviving became something to defend. I do not know when being trapped in a cycle became something to brag about. I do not know when we started matching our struggle to someone else’s struggle so we do not have to face what is keeping us stuck.
I am not fighting for us to be equal at the bottom. I want us to rise from the bottom entirely.
Let us talk about the real numbers
Here are the current Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) participation numbers based on the latest reports:
• Around 35 to 37 percent of SNAP participants are white • Around 25 to 27 percent are Black • Around 15 to 16 percent are Hispanic • Around 3 to 4 percent are Asian • Around 1 to 2 percent are Native American • The remainder falls into the unreported or unknown category
Yes white people make up the largest group on food stamps. They should. They are the largest share of the population.
But here is the part people love skipping. Black households are nearly twice as likely to need assistance. That is not a bragging point. That is a warning sign.
It is like saying, “Well other folks are drowning too.” Okay. But why are we still in the water when we should be building boats.
What frustrates me is not the struggle. Everybody goes through struggle. What frustrates me is when we protect the struggle and defend the struggle and call it normal because we are used to it.
Some of us want to lower the bar so far that anything counts as winning. I want the bar raised so high we have to stretch to reach it.
And here is the truth. If you know deep down that something is not good for your community, the answer is not to justify it by pointing fingers at who else is suffering. The answer is to break the cycle. The answer is to climb.
Do not tell me “white people do it too.” That is not the point. It never was.
The deeper issue: Why do we defend the basement
What is happening is simple. When people are tired of fighting, they start settling. And when they start settling, they start defending what hurts them.
“White people are on it too” is not empowerment. It is a coping mechanism.
It is a way to avoid asking the hard question. Why have we accepted being under the bar for so long that we now measure progress by who else is struggling with us.
That is not liberation. That is bondage dressed up as equality.
Western Scripture: Hosea 4:6
“My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.”
You cannot heal what you refuse to see. You cannot rise from what you refuse to confront. You cannot break a cycle that you are busy defending.
Knowledge breaks chains. Truth breaks cycles. Accountability opens doors.
Ethiopian Scripture: Jubilees 1:25
“And I will send my angels before you, and they shall keep you in all my ways, and bring you into the land of truth and righteousness.”
Truth and righteousness. Not excuses. Not cycles. Not generational patterns we have decided to normalize.
God brings us into truth. The question is whether we will live in it or run from it.
A reflection for 2025
We are at a moment where some Black folks are choosing comfort over clarity. Memes over math. Feelings over facts.
I am not interested in defending the basement. I am interested in building the exit.
And I will keep saying it loud. Poverty is not our culture. Struggle is not our identity. Government dependency is not our destiny.
We are not meant to survive forever. We are meant to rise.
If you are tired of living under the bar, stop lowering it and start climbing over it.
I said what I said. And I will keep saying it until we stop normalizing what we are meant to overcome.
The Israelites were finally out of Egypt, free from Pharaoh’s system, but discomfort showed up, and suddenly freedom didn’t feel like freedom.
We don’t always talk about this part of the Exodus story. We celebrate the miracle of the Red Sea, the confrontation with Pharaoh, the plagues, all the dramatic parts. But we skip over the moment after freedom came, when the same people who prayed for deliverance started complaining about what freedom required.
“If only we had died by the LORD’s hand in Egypt. There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.”(Exodus 16:3)
They were willing to trade freedom for comfort. They were willing to return to slavery because slavery was familiar. That is not just ancient history. That is a human tendency. Sometimes we choose bondage because bondage comes with certainty. It is predictable. It does not require growth or trust. It does not ask us to walk by faith.
Mental Chains Today
The Western Bible shows us the external rebellion. The Ethiopian Bible, one of the oldest surviving biblical records, shows us the same, but goes deeper. The focus is not just that Israel complained. It is that God was exposing that their minds were still enslaved, even though their bodies had been released. They did not just need a new location. They needed a new mindset. That is deliverance on a different level.
Some Black people in America today are doing the same thing. They march and protest and shout about freedom but still cling to the very political party that benefits from keeping Black people mentally enslaved. Some of us hold on to the Democratic Party the same way the Israelites held on to Egypt, even though the whole system feeds dependency instead of empowerment. Handouts instead of ownership. Narratives of victimhood instead of victory. Chains of the mind disguised as charity.
It is not a physical plantation now. It is a mental one.
The Digital Plantation
There are overseers today, but the whips look different.
The overseer with the whip now is the Democratic Party that demands loyalty in exchange for crumbs of progress.
The overseer with the whip now is the self-proclaimed Black leaders and influencers who are still mentally enslaved and try to drag the rest of us back onto the mental plantation when we start thinking for ourselves.
The overseer with the whip now is the mainstream media and social media that constantly tells us we are oppressed, powerless, and dependent on government systems to survive.
And let’s be real. Some of these “pro-Black” Facebook pages and TikTok accounts that stir up racial anger and political outrage are not even run by Black people. They are run by white liberals pretending to care, pumping out emotional bait to keep us angry and easy to manipulate. That is not empowerment; that is strategic slavery, updated for a digital world.
Until we see it for what it is, we will keep defending Egypt and calling it freedom. We will keep voting for chains and calling them rights. We will keep blaming God for deliverance that does not feel like comfort.
The Wilderness Choice
You can be free and still love the comfort of captivity. You can pray for breakthroughs and still beg to go back to the moment life requires responsibility. You can vote against your own liberation because you have been trained to believe you are powerless without permission.
But God is still saying the same thing He told Moses and Israel:
“You were not born to die in Egypt.”
So here is the real question:
Are you willing to leave the system that keeps you fed but not free?
Are you willing to walk into the wilderness even when you do not know every detail, but you trust God to lead?
Because freedom will always feel hard when you have been conditioned to love the cage.
Call to Action
Ask God to expose every place in your life where you have accepted the chains just because they look like comfort. Freedom does not come from a political party or a social system. Freedom starts in the mind and finishes in the spirit. When Freedom Feels Hard: Why Comfort Can Be a Cage
Pam's Pulse 