Helping you find rest through storytelling.
For three years, Ghana has been my place of purpose. When I first arrived at this place, my excitement was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The red dust of Accra rose with the sun, setting a scene of warmth and vitality. The air was alive with morning sounds—market vendors setting up their stalls, children laughing in the streets. I came to meet my husband and pursue mission work, starting with an online TikTok ministry with 68,000 followers and two in-person missions. The mission was a success, but after long days of depleted funds, I needed to take a break, so I went home for about three months. After a three-month break back home, I returned to Ghana, and that's when everything changed.
God told me to close my ministry and platform to take a year of rest, which I obeyed on February 11th, 2025. Even Elijah and Jesus had times when God told them to rest, teaching me a valuable lesson. Elijah found answers alone in the wilderness (see 1 Kings 19), a quiet place where he found new strength for his work. Today, many of us face our own challenges, such as burnout or constant phone notifications that wear us out. These stresses leave us tired and empty. In Mark 6:31, Jesus instructed His followers to rest alone after working hard, illustrating the importance of taking a break. These stories helped me realize that my rest is from God and is indeed necessary. Like Elijah and Jesus, this time allows me to find quiet and focus again on what God wants for me.
I thought I understood this new season and expected quiet spiritual growth. Instead, unexpected anger and confusion emerged. My income stopped. Followers said offerings depended on preaching, and support went elsewhere. My husband and I survived on 50 cedis ($5) a day, sometimes going hungry. One night, with only peanut butter left in the fridge, a change felt imminent. As I opened the refrigerator, the cool air did little to soothe the hunger grumbling in our bellies. "Is this what obedience looks like?"
I asked myself, trying to hold back tears. My husband looked over at me; our eyes met, filled with the same uncertainty. "It's hard to see what's ahead," I said softly, "but maybe this is preparing us for something bigger." My mom sent money that day—enough for beans and rice. We were grateful, but we still felt the scarcity. That gnawing uncertainty felt like failure looming over us. Yet, in that moment, I realized that courage sometimes means enduring the struggle while still choosing to hold onto gratitude and faith.
This process taught me that self-honesty is crucial for personal growth. Rather than indulging in pride or ego, recognizing my true feelings allows me to confront them without judgment. It's not about feeling proud of these realizations; instead, it's about understanding them and choosing to act differently. Small actions, such as greeting a neighbor or sharing a meal, help transform my insights into meaningful interactions and foster genuine growth, free from the shadows of hidden pride.
1. Think of a recent situation where you felt unappreciated or entitled. What underlying expectations were present?
2. Reflect on a time when you hesitated to ask for help. What role did pride play in this situation?
3. Identify a goal or desire. How does it align with personal ambition, and where might pride disguise itself here?
4. Write down an instance where you compared yourself to others. What does this reveal about the source of your pride?
Even while asking for help, I felt others owed me. I put up walls, felt abandoned by family, and justified my reactions. These responses stemmed from pride—a focus on my pain and expectations.
Staying inside the house for 'spiritual rest' masked a deeper pride. I believed my worth was tied to appearances and opinions. Because of this, I waited to present a perfect self before re-engaging in the outside world. To break this cycle of perfectionism, I decided to take actionable steps. First, I reached out to a trusted friend, opening up about my struggles and asking for their support. Then, I decided to take a step outdoors to reclaim my freedom, and from there, I began to follow God's instructions to prepare for the next season.
This realization brought me to Naaman in 2 Kings 5, unlocking a new truth. Naaman, a respected man, was angry when told to wash in the Jordan to heal his leprosy—it didn't fit his desire for a dignified miracle. He wanted healing on his terms.
In that moment, I realized: I was Naaman—my anger over lost support was a form of pride. I expected a blessing on my terms and wanted to stay hidden until 'perfect.' Like Naaman, I made healing conditional.
As I grappled with these realizations, I noticed that although my rest was spiritual, fear and shame were disguised as pride, masquerading as devotion. What felt like healing was actually a barrier. Facing this was painful yet freeing.
God is showing me that healing isn't weak or fragile; it grows stronger in the midst of hard times. Just as seeds break through the ground, letting go of their old shells to reach the sun, this time of loss—losing followers, money, and my ministry—has helped me build a deeper faith. Obedience is giving up control, not a trade, and my biggest lesson is here, learning to trust God when it costs a lot. If you're facing a tough time, remember God is with you, making you stronger and helping you with every challenge.
To navigate through tough times, consider adopting a simple daily practice. Begin each day with a prayer or scripture meditation. You might try meditating on a scripture like Isaiah 41:10: 'So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.' Let this be your anchor, reminding you of God's constant presence and support.
This season's spiritual healing began with a challenging conversation with my own heart. Pride isn't always apparent; it can block growth and blessing. Here are the critical truths I confronted about pride:
Pride can manifest as shame or self-loathing, where the desire for perfection is not true humility but a fear of imperfection. It fosters a consuming focus on oneself, where entitlement and hurt arise from an overemphasis on personal pain rather than trusting God. Pride also cultivates a transactional mindset, convincing us that our efforts entitle us to certain expectations from others. These insights remind us that pride, in its many forms, can quietly obstruct our growth and relationships.
The antidote is surrender: release your terms, trust God's way, even when it's messy.
Begin today. Identify and release your expectations now. Each day, pray this intention: "God, help me let go and follow You." Write down breakthroughs, reach out to a trusted friend, and take one visible, practical step to surrender today. Forgive someone, serve someone anonymously, or encourage someone quietly. Each morning, reflect on your strengths and embrace them—let go of chasing perfection. Don't hesitate; step forward boldly, make a commitment, and see genuine growth and healing begin.
Reflecting on my journey, I saw that healing came through honest self-examination. Pride quietly blocks growth. Here are the truths I faced:
Pride is self-preoccupation. Feeling entitled to help from others meant prioritizing my needs and expecting specific responses from others.
It creates a false sense of security. I realized that the wall I put up to protect myself was a way of shielding a fragile ego. I was so afraid of being hurt again that I was willing to sacrifice genuine connection for what felt like safety.
It's transactional. Believing I deserved support for preaching exposed my own wounded pride and a transactional mindset.
It hides in comparison. I was wrestling with the idea that others had achieved status that I, with my gifts, also deserved. This feeling of injustice and resentment was the flip side of pride, which is always rooted in comparing myself to others.
It's not humility; it's self-loathing. My desire to stay hidden until I was "good enough"—until I lost weight and gained back my confidence—was a deep-seated perfectionism. I couldn't accept myself as I was, and that was a reflection of a pride that demanded nothing less than perfection.
Take the 24-hour #SurrenderChallenge: each day, choose one intentional act of forgiveness or service—such as forgiving someone or helping without expecting recognition. Document your act in a journal or share it on social media using the hashtag. Invite a friend to join, spreading healing and growth. Each morning, reflect on your strengths and accept them, letting go of the pursuit of perfection. Commit daily to this bold practice and experience growth.
Additionally, consider seeking an accountability partner or joining a small group that shares similar spiritual goals. This will not only foster a sense of community but will also help sustain our journey of growth and healing. Together, we can rediscover the strength found in community, just like many of us who have felt disconnected from our brothers and sisters in Christ have experienced the revival of our discouraged souls by joining a Church online. Sharing our experiences with each other offers encouragement and new perspectives, enabling us to stay true to our path and maintain our commitment to personal and spiritual development.
If your spirit is longing for more nourishment, I hope you will explore my other blog posts and YouTube videos.
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Life Iz A Journey. Relax. Take Time. Enjoy.