A Rising Remnant

Category: Inspirational/faith

  • Insecurity vs. God: Who Defines Me?

    Insecurity vs. God: Who Defines Me?

    The Question That Shifted Everything

    I’ve been realizing lately that insecurity is still one of the biggest stumbling blocks in my walk with Christ. It keeps me from fully stepping into who He has called me to be.

    I was journaling recently, and the question I asked myself was, “Why do I still struggle with worrying about what people think of me?”

    And I noticed a common theme that was coming up in my answers… I still care so much because I fear I’ll end up alone.

    When Circumstances Speak Louder Than Truth

    A lot of times, I make God seem small because I get hyper-focused on everything I don’t have but wish I did. That focus alone can leave me feeling everything but good. But here’s the truth: even though that little voice in my head wants me to believe my feelings define reality, I know God says otherwise.

    On the outside, it may look like lack, but I trust He’s working behind the scenes of my life, bringing all things together for my good (Romans 8:28). One day, He’ll get the glory, and I’ll be able to look back and say, “God was always working.”

    Friendship and Romance Are Connected

    What I’m starting to notice is that the same insecurities I feel in friendship are the very ones that show up when I think about romantic relationships. It’s connected.

    If I fear rejection in friendships, I’ll carry that same fear into dating or marriage. If I base my worth on whether people stay or go, I’ll end up performing for approval or walking on eggshells just to keep someone close… whether it’s a friend or a partner.

    Relationships as a Reflection of Christ

    I’m learning that my earthly relationships… platonic or romantic, should always reflect my relationship with Christ. How I give love, how I receive it, and even how I respond to disappointment or rejection are mirrors of what’s happening in my walk with Him.

    When my identity and worth are rooted in God, I can love freely without fear. I can set healthy boundaries without guilt. And I can trust that whether a friend drifts away or a partner disappoints me, I’m still fully known, fully loved, and fully secure in Christ.

    The closer I walk with Him, the healthier my relationships become. Not because people are perfect, but because His love is perfect, and it flows through me into every connection I have.

    Rooted in Christ Alone

    But here’s the shift I’m learning to make: my identity has to remain in Christ, not in who accepts or rejects me.

    Because if my worth is rooted in Him, then even if someone disappoints me, I don’t lose myself in the process.

    That’s the freedom God’s inviting me into. To abide in Him so deeply that whether it’s friendships or a future relationship, I can show up whole, secure, and loved, because I already know who I am in Him.

    Closing Thoughts

    Maybe that’s the bigger picture. The very lessons God is teaching me in friendship are preparing me for love, too.

    He’s showing me that rejection doesn’t define me, circumstances don’t limit me, and insecurity doesn’t have the final word.

    God does.

    And if I keep my eyes on Him, I won’t just survive relationships, I’ll thrive in them.

    Because I’ll finally understand that I’m already chosen, already loved, and already secure in the One who never leaves.

    A Prayer

    Lord, help me to see myself the way

    You see me, loved, chosen, and

    enough. Teach me to abide in You so

    fully that no fear of rejection or

    disappointment can shake me. Help

    me walk confidently in friendships

    and relationships, showing up as the

    whole, secure person You created me

    to be. Protect my heart, guide my

    steps, and remind me that Your love

    is my anchor in every season.

    In Jesus Name, Amen.

  • Grace in the Middle of the Mess: When Conviction, Struggle & Favor Collide

    Grace in the Middle of the Mess: When Conviction, Struggle & Favor Collide

    And God’s Love covers a multitude of sins!

    I know it’s been a minute since I’ve written anything. I didn’t even realize that it had been nearly a month since I last posted. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to… honestly, I became spiritually and emotionally exhausted. I was struggling and I didn’t know how to handle it. I’ve walked through some things in my life, but this time… I had no words to express how I was feeling.

    It’s been one of those seasons that humbles you… the kind that brings everything to the surface. Convictions. Old wounds. Silent battles. Even the habits you thought you were done with.

    And just when you think you’re getting a handle on things… regret, confusion and frustration start resurfacing. And you start to sink. It felt like nothing I was doing, was good enough.

    “And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.”— Galatians 6:9

    I definitely grew weary in my well doing… and for a while I slipped back into what felt familiar.

    Because of how heavy and weighty I felt spiritually emotionally and mentally, I let my emotions hop back in the driver seat and I broke my vow of abstinence. And I haven’t fully come out of it. I’m struggling with it if I can be transparent and real.

    And I’ve felt and still feel the weight of that.

    For a while I tried avoiding God because everything in me wanted to make me believe that I couldn’t be redeemed.

    Guilt and shame were too loud to ignore in my mind.

    But I still felt God’s presence more tenderly than I expected.

    Even though I was going through it internally, I never fully gave up.

    There were moments I felt like I was barely hanging on mentally, emotionally, spiritually, but deep down, I was warring for my mind. My thoughts were loud, telling me my world was caving in, that everything was too much.

    But I knew focusing on that would only sink me deeper. I had to shift my focus to God. Because I’ve studied His character. I know He doesn’t put more on me than I can bear. So if I was in it… it meant He allowed it.

    That didn’t make it easy, but it did remind me that there was purpose in the pain. A lesson to be learned. And knowing who He is, that’s what kept me from falling apart.

    And It’s wild how I can be feeling so low, wrestling with guilt and shame and at the same time… God is still being good to me. He’s still making a way. Still covering me. Still showing me favor in ways I know I didn’t earn.

    I’ve cried.

    I’ve asked for forgiveness.

    I’ve questioned.

    I’ve sat in silence.

    And still… I’ve been kept.

    It’s weird to hold all of that at once the struggle, the favor, the discipline, and the love. But that’s where I’ve been.

    This season is stretching me.

    And honestly? Some days it feels like I’m being broken and built at the same time.

    I’ve been in places where I’ve asked God, “Are You still with me?”

    And His answer came in small ways: through peace, through provision, through gentle conviction that didn’t condemn me but called me back.

    The truth is…

    I’ve been distant. But He hasn’t been.

    He never stopped pursuing me, even when I wasn’t showing up consistently.

    And that alone is enough to bring me to tears.

    Let me say this loud for the people in the back…

    My testimony is not just for me. Somebody is attached to what I’m walking through. Attached to my pain, My heartbreak, My struggle, My trauma, My forgiveness, My breakthrough, And even this unexpected favor that has shown up in the middle of it all.

    So I can’t keep silent just because I haven’t “arrived.”

    This is real-time healing and faith.

    This is what healing while still walking it out looks like.

    If you’re in a space where you feel like you’ve messed up too much, or you’re too behind to get it right again, hear me and hear me good… YOU ARE NOT TOO FAR GONE!

    God isn’t finished. Philippians 1:6

    Even when we slip, He doesn’t let go. Psalm 34:18

    Even in the mess, He still sees purpose. Romans 8:28

    So no, I don’t have it all figured out.

    But I’m still held.

    Still called.

    Still chosen.

    Still His.

    And that… that’s grace.

    Final Thought:

    I’m learning not to count myself out just because I’m not done healing.

    God’s still moving… even in my mess.

    A Prayer for the One Who’s Barely Holding On

    Lord, I need You.

    Not in a casual way.

    Not in a “sometimes” kind of way.

    I need You like I need water. Like breath.

    Because right now, I’m overwhelmed.

    I feel empty.

    I’m drowning in guilt.

    Wrestling with shame.

    And if I’m honest… sadness has been sitting heavy on my chest for a while now.

    Sometimes I wonder if I’ve messed up too many times.

    Like maybe I’ve exhausted Your grace.

    And I know You’re God and You already know everything I’m feeling, but still… I find myself shutting down.

    Pulling back.

    Hiding.

    Part of me feels like You’re tired of me.

    Like maybe You’ve given up on me.

    And I hate feeling that way, but it’s real and it’s how I feel .

    I don’t feel worthy of Your love.

    Or any good thing from You.

    But God, I don’t want to stay stuck here.

    Help me not to cave in when those dark thoughts come.

    Help me not to shut the world out or pretend I’m okay when I’m not.

    Instead of turning inward, help me to turn to You.

    Help me to remember who You are.

    You’re not a God who shames.

    You’re not holding a clipboard of all my failures.

    You don’t stop loving me when I fall.

    Your love… is steady.

    Your grace… doesn’t run out.

    So Lord, forgive me.

    I’ve messed up.

    And I probably will again.

    But I want to do better.

    I want to honor You with my life, even in the messy, broken parts.

    Thank You for undeserved favor.

    Thank You for not giving up on me.

    Even when I feel like giving up on myself.

    In Jesus’ name,

    Amen.

  • A letter to the tired heart!♥️ 

    To the tired heart…

    I love you.

    God loves you.

    And you were never meant to carry that weight alone.

    The weight of your trauma. 

    The weight of heartbreak. 

    The weight of rejection. 

    The weight of grief. 

    The weight of fear. 

    The weight of pain. 

    The weight of loss. 

    The weight of suffering. 

    The weight of life.

    I know you’re tired, but keep hold on just a little while longer. 

    It’s okay to release the tears now, you don’t have to keep holding everything in.

    I know it hurts, but it’s okay to feel the pain.

    That’s how healing begins… by exposing the wound.

    It’s okay if you’re still struggling to get through the hurt. It doesn’t last forever.

    It’s okay if you don’t have all the answers.

    Guess what? No one does.

    It’s okay to be present in the moment. It’s time to start living and not just existing. 

    It’s okay to take a moment and rest…

    To catch your breath.

    You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.

    You are seen.

    You are safe.

    And you are not alone.

    Healing is possible.

    Healing is for you.

    And healing wants to meet you…

    Right where you are.

    Final Thoughts…

    Sometimes we just need a reminder that we are not alone, I know I do.

  • “Tremble and Trust: Choosing Faith When Fear Tries to Speak Louder”

    “Tremble and Trust: Choosing Faith When Fear Tries to Speak Louder”

    “Faith doesn’t silence fear—it just refuses to let fear lead.”—LT

    There’s a moment we all face when God calls us forward and fear tries to talk us out of it.

    Sometimes it’s loud and obvious.

    Other times, it’s subtle… disguised as logic, hesitation, or “waiting for the right time.”

    This week, I found myself standing in that very place.

    Feeling the pull of obedience, but also feeling the weight of uncertainty.

    And I had to ask myself: Am I going to let fear win, or am I going to trust God anyway, even if I tremble doing it?

    This post is a reflection of that moment. A reminder that fear doesn’t disqualify you, and faith isn’t about perfection… it’s about choosing to trust the One who holds it all together.

    Showing Up Anyway

    There’s a quiet battle that often begins before obedience ever takes place.

    It’s not always external.

    It’s not always dramatic.

    Sometimes it shows up in the form of hesitation.

    That moment where your heart knows what God is leading you to do…

    but your flesh, your trauma, your past rejections, and your overthinking start to argue with your spirit.

    That’s where I’ve been.

    Fear didn’t shout. It whispered.

    It tried to dress itself up as wisdom, tried to justify caution with “logic” and “timing.”

    But the truth is, it was fear.

    And not the holy, reverent kind.

    It was the kind meant to stop me from moving forward.

    And I knew it.

    Because the closer I get to obedience, the louder the resistance becomes.

    Not just from outside, but from within.

    But I’m learning something in this season:

    Being honest about where you are is growth.

    It’s growth to say:

    “I’m afraid.”

    “I feel overwhelmed.”

    “I don’t know if I’m enough for what God is asking of me.”

    You’re not pretending to be fearless.

    You’re just choosing not to be ruled by fear.

    You’re dragging it into the light instead of stuffing it down—and that’s how you take away its power.

    Let’s be clear:

    The fear you feel right now is not from God.

    “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.”—2 Timothy 1:7

    The enemy gets loud when your obedience is close. He’s not attacking you just for where you are, he’s terrified of what your yes will unlock.

    And he knows something we forget:

    Your obedience isn’t just about you. It’s about every person your faith will touch.

    It’s about every breakthrough that will ripple out from your surrender.

    It’s about the legacy your courage is shaping right now. It’s okay to feel fear, it’s not okay to obey it.

    Obedience in fear is still obedience.

    Courage is not the absence of trembling… it’s choosing to move forward while trembling. You can feel unsure and still be anointed.

    You can feel unqualified and still be called. Excuses are the enemy’s way of slowing down destiny.

    He knows he can’t take your calling, so he tries to make you delay it with doubt. He’ll offer you “valid reasons” why now’s not the right time.

    But those reasons will always pull you away from faith, not into it.

    So here’s what I’m holding on to:

    I am stepping out not because I know the whole plan,

    but because I trust the One who holds the plan.

    That’s not just a nice quote. It’s truth I’m preaching to myself every single day.

    Because some days I want clarity.

    Some days I want confirmation.

    But God keeps reminding me: Toya, what you really need is trust.

    Faith doesn’t cancel trembling. It redeems it.

    I’ve trembled in my healing.

    Trembled in my obedience.

    Trembled in writing posts like this, wondering if I’m saying too much or being too vulnerable.

    But I’m learning to trust that God is not asking me to be perfect.

    He’s just asking me to say yes.

    And I believe that He can take my small, imperfect yes and do something eternal with it.

    A Prayer for the Fearful Obedient:

    Father, I feel the fear, but I choose the faith.

    I won’t lie to You about where I am, because You already see it anyway.

    You know my thoughts, my doubts, my silent battles.

    But You also know the strength You’ve placed in me.

    I choose to walk by faith, not by sight.

    Strengthen me to step even when I feel unsure.

    Remind me that I don’t have to do this in my own strength. You are with me.

    I believe You will finish what You started in me.

    In Jesus’ name, Amen.

    This isn’t about being strong all the time.

    This is about surrender.

    It’s about believing that God will breathe on your obedience, even if it’s just a whisper of a step.

    A Milestone

    I’m almost six months into my walk with Christ.

    And I’ve never felt more aware of the tug-of-war between who I was, who I’m becoming, and who God has already declared me to be.

    The enemy wants me to quit.

    My flesh wants comfort.

    But my spirit is choosing faithfulness.

    Not perfection. Not performance.

    Just presence, and a heart that keeps saying, “Yes, Lord. I’m still here. I’m still choosing You.”

  • When I Had Nothing Left to Give

    When I Had Nothing Left to Give

    “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference.”—Reinhold Niebuhr

    Just Trying To Get By

    I didn’t post last week. And to be honest, I didn’t want to.

    Not because I didn’t care. Not because I didn’t have anything to say.

    But because I didn’t have anything left to give. I was mentally exhausted. Emotionally raw. Spiritually low.

    Sometimes following Christ feels like I’m fighting a war. Not a war against the world, but a war against myself. It felt like everything hit me all at once and kept hitting. 

    Old wounds constantly resurface as I’m trying to heal. Heavy memories pressing on my chest.

    And most days I have more questions than I have answers and prayers that I can’t even finish without crying just hoping God hears my heart instead. 

    Did saying yes to God mean life was supposed to get easier?

    No, but with the way life’s been hitting me lately, I can’t lie… sometimes it feels like it should have.

    I’ve been showing up here, sharing my journey, my healing, my heartbreaks, the hard truths I’ve had to face, and the moments where God met me in my mess. I’ve done it with honesty. But lately… life cracked something deeper. And I knew I had to pause.

    The truth is, I’ve been carrying so much.

    Trying to heal, but also trying to skip over the middle… the process itself and jump straight to the end. Wanting the healed version of me without going through the messy part first, while still feeling stuck in places I thought I’d already left behind.

    Trying to be strong and grounded, while some mornings I wake up feeling like I’m barely holding it together.

    It felt like my heart was crying out,

    “God, I can’t do this. I’m tired. I’m trying… but I’m tired.”

    And I didn’t want to pour from a place that was dry. It wouldn’t be genuine. It wouldn’t feel right. I didn’t want to write just to say I posted something.

    I’m learning that it’s okay to take a time-out for the sake of my spiritual health.

    This space isn’t about performance. It’s real, real life experiences, real triggers, real wounds, real struggles. But it’s also about presence, a place for me to share my heart, true healing and truth.

    And in order to be honest with you, I had to be honest with myself first.

    So I paused.

    I gave myself permission to not be strong.

    Not to be ok.

    To not be productive.

    To not have it all figured out.

    To be completely broken.

    Completely open and exposed to God like never before.

    And to be completely honest, that pause was deeply needed. Because even in the silence, God was still speaking.

    Even in the chaos that is my life right now, He’s still been present. Even when I felt unseen, He saw me.

    Sometimes, we need to stop pouring and start resting.

    Sometimes healing looks like pulling back for a while and letting God refill what life, family, friends, relationships, jobs and even you…have drained.

    If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same… this is for you.

    If your smile has been forced, your prayers have been whispers, and peace feels far away, this is for you.

    If you’ve been showing up for everyone else, while secretly hoping someone would notice you or see you.

    You are not alone.

    And you don’t have to keep pretending you’re okay when you’re not.

    Healing is messy and painful.

    Faith gets weary.

    And strength?

    Sometimes it looks like being still instead of pushing through.

    Last week reminded me: I don’t have to have it all together to be loved by God. He doesn’t withdraw when I’m low. He draws near.

    And even when I had nothing left to give, or I feel like I’m doing something wrong, He gently reminded me:

    “I’m still here and you’re still mine.”

    ⸻

    I was reminded of Job a couple of days ago.

    Everything he went through… devastating loss, deep pain, betrayal by the people closest to him and yet he never cursed God.

    Yes, he questioned. He grieved. He lamented. But even in his confusion and heartbreak, he kept bringing it to God.

    His wife told him to curse God and give up. His friends tried to convince him he was to blame.

    But Job held on.

    Not perfectly. Not without struggle.

    But faithfully.

    That kind of faith wrecks me.

    Job didn’t fake strength. He didn’t try to defend or explain away his circumstances. He didn’t even pretend to be okay. 

    But he did choose to stay anchored in God… even when it hurt.

    It makes me ask myself some real questions:

    Am I truly taking everything to God?

    Or am I relying on my own will, my own wisdom, my own strength?

    Is my faith built on the rock or on sand that washes away when life gets hard?

    ⸻

    And if I’m honest?

    I question my walk sometimes.

    I don’t like the pruning process.

    I constantly feel like I’m doing something wrong.

    I don’t like the pain, the tears, the frustration of it all. But I’m committed to God no matter how shaking my walk is. Why?

    Because I know it’s necessary.

    Necessary for this season.

    Necessary for my growth.

    Necessary for the woman I’m becoming.

    And this journey? It’s not just about me.

    It’s for whoever needs to know they’re not the only one feeling like this.

    Honestly, I’m just now starting to feel the strength of God again.

    Because as long as I tried to stay in control, life felt like I was being tossed by the wind.

    But when I surrendered, God reminded me:

    “I’ve been here the whole time.”

    No matter if I can’t see Him moving, or if He seems silent…

    I’m choosing to trust who He’s shown me He is time and time again.

    I’m trusting in His promises.

    I’m trusting that He knows best, that His will is best.

    His way is better.

    His timing is perfect.

    Lord, help my unbelief.

    He sent people to pour into me when I wasn’t even asking for help.

    He caught the tears I didn’t want anyone to see.

    He fought battles I didn’t have the strength to face.

    God is always near.

    And when it’s all said and done, He will get the glory.

    ⸻

    “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”—Matthew 11:28 (NIV)

    He doesn’t ask us to be strong for Him.

    He just asks us to come.

    ⸻

    A Prayer for the Weary

    God,

    Thank You for loving me in the places I don’t show to anyone.

    For seeing me when I feel invisible.

    For catching every tear, every whisper, every broken prayer.

    Help me to trust You in the pruning.

    To lean into the process.

    To remember that You’re still good, even when life doesn’t feel that way.

    Give me the courage to rest.

    To release control.

    To let You be God and not try to carry what was never mine to hold.

    And for anyone reading this who feels tired and unseen, wrap them in Your peace.

    Whisper to their hearts: You are still mine.

    In Jesus’ name,

    Amen.

    ⸻

    With love and healing,

    Toya 💛