But Jesus!

I don’t have a typical blog post today. Yet, as I sat down to write, I smiled. I don’t have to wait for a well-constructed word of wisdom, nor do I feel the need to stay still for an impartation, which, in my case, is often just a setup for delayed obedience.

So what are we discussing today? Today, I testify.

To some of y’all, I might be a friend — if you are gracious enough to allow me that title. To others, I might just be that young woman behind the posts.

But this Jesus I speak of is not some indoctrinated fable I’ve accepted as truth. In the words of Gen Z, we go way back. He has been interwoven into every ebb and flow of my journey. He is the glue that keeps me together.

So today, I remember my best friend.

I remember my birth story. If you’ve been here from the beginning or simply read my introduction page, then you know I was a high-risk post-term baby. My mother’s umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck, depriving me of oxygen. Though she had no contractions, she asked the medical staff to check, and they intervened just in time.

I remember when bandits invaded our home during a coup while I was still a newborn. They would often do the most detestable ordeals to women as their partners watch, just as a display of power. As my mother tells it, we took refuge on the roof, but they forgot my milk downstairs. She looked me in the eyes and explained that we could not get it at the moment. Somehow, the baby who couldn’t talk or comprehend immediately fell asleep, as if she understood. But Jesus!

I remember sitting in my mother’s car at the foot of a hill on our way to school, watching another car slide down full force into us, only for our car not to budge. Nothing but a broken headlight. But Jesus!

I remember my father driving down a rocky hill, vaguely thinking the back tire needed air, only to discover the tire had completely come apart, leaving the car balancing on three wheels. But Jesus!

I remember waking up daily with excruciating back pain, so consistently that it became part of my normal. The doctor’s verdict: mild scoliosis. Not severe enough for surgery, but severe enough to require a preventative pill every day that I never took. Now there are days I forget I ever had it. But Jesus!

I remember getting picked up early from school because my mother was being held hostage inside her own workplace by gang members who promised her a bullet if the police got involved. We paid. But Jesus!

I remember getting the phone call that my father had been shot by two mercenaries on a motorcycle and needed an eight-hour surgery performed by Cuban missionaries who just happened to be serving at the hospital. The bullet exploded inside him, but he got up and walked out of the hospital. But Jesus!

I remember running for my life during the 4.7 magnitude earthquake in Haiti — literally being yanked out of death’s way — while the young boy standing next to me moments earlier lost his life beneath the rubble. But Jesus!

I remember being tossed between relatives’ homes because I was always family, but never family enough. Always the easily discardable plus one. Now I have found a church family that is not just a church, but a home. But Jesus!

I remember being homeless for almost two weeks, sleeping in a hostel because I had used my passport as identification. Now, having a roof over my head is no longer an impossible expense. But Jesus!

I remember when depression drained the joy out of me, and I became nothing more than a breathing corpse. Now, the things that once crippled me have lost their grip as I walk into rooms knowing I am an ambassador of light. But Jesus!

I remember spending much of my young adult life feeling like I had to shrink myself to belong. Too silly for some. Too smart for others. Too privileged to be understood. I wanted so badly to fit in that I began to resent the very fragrance that set me apart. Now I understand that God makes no mistakes and that I was fashioned with divine intent. But Jesus!

I remember constantly disclaiming how much I hated writing until I sat in a growth group where the validation of my gift became the eye-opener I desperately needed. Now, two manuscripts later, I’m still blown away. But Jesus!

My life has never been a bed of roses. I fought for everything I have, yet nothing I have came as a result of me.

Be not dismayed — these are only the testimonies that could fit into one blog post. I could not stop crying while I remembered some of those seasons I truly believed would end me. But Jesus!

There have been countless other moments where the Lord, in His faithfulness, opened and closed doors on my behalf while I was out in the world making a mess of my anointing.

So pardon me for a moment as I take a trip down memory lane and rebuild my altar brick by brick. I don’t know what you might be facing when you come across this post, but one thing is for sure and two for certain:

He is faithful and more than able.

Remember: you do not fight for victory, but from a place of victory. Your battle is already won, even if this current fight leaves you begging for breath.

This week, take a quiet moment. Sit down and remember the many times Jesus came through for you. Encourage your soul to keep hope alive.

Xoxo

Chris