reckoningeverymile

[reckoningeverymile]

[reckoningeverymile]

[reckoningeverymile]

🏸Winning Without Swinging Too Hard🎾

Scripture:

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” — Exodus 14:14

Reflection:

Today, I reflected on how games like badminton or other racket sports can surprisingly mirror real life—especially in how we deal with difficult people or even enemies.

In these games, players don’t always win by showing off powerful smashes or clever tricks. Sometimes, the winning point comes simply because the opponent failed. They couldn’t return the shot. They misjudged. They got careless. Without even exerting much effort, the point is yours.

And that’s when it hit me—this is so much like how God sometimes allows us to “win” in life.

There are people who will gossip, lie, or throw shade at us, hoping to damage our name. And our instinct may be to hit back, to prove ourselves, or to clear our name. But God often invites us to trust Him instead. He lets their own immaturity, dishonesty, or foolish actions bounce back on them. Like a missed shot, their attack fails—not because we fought harder, but because we stayed steady and trusted in God’s justice.

Letting God fight for us doesn’t mean we’re weak. It means we’re wise. Silence can be strength. Integrity can be our best defense. And when we allow the battle to be the Lord’s, the victory will always be more meaningful.

Prayer:

Lord, thank You for the gentle reminders hidden in everyday things like sports. Teach me to trust You more when I feel attacked or misunderstood. Help me not to rush in and fight every battle, but instead to lean on Your wisdom and timing. Let my silence be grounded in confidence, not fear. And may my life reflect Your grace, even when others try to bring me down. I believe that You see everything and that You are my Defender. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

[reckoningeverymile]

RAISE THEM WELL

Raise children with integrity, not just intelligence. It’s easy to applaud a high IQ, but it is emotional intelligence—EQ—that truly shapes a person of depth and substance. Teach them empathy: the ability to recognize the pain of others, to reach out, to understand rather than judge. Help them learn to put themselves in someone else’s shoes—to feel what others might be feeling—and to develop self-awareness: the maturity to recognize when their own emotions, words, or actions may be hurting or undermining someone else. Because true character is not just about how we act, but how we affect those around us.

Raise children who do not grow conceited over academic achievements, but instead take pride in showing good character. Let their self-worth be rooted not in medals or ranks, but in how they lift others up, help those who struggle, and celebrate even the victories of those seen as competitors. Instill in them the value of excellence—not as a measure against others, but as a commitment to becoming better than who they were yesterday.

Teach them to be kind. To never use their strength, popularity, or position to diminish others. Raise them to be the kind of person who doesn’t engage in bullying, nor silently condone it. Let them be aware of the power of their words and actions, knowing that they can either build someone’s confidence or be the reason it breaks.

Let them understand that having a “mean girl” attitude is not a badge of honor. It’s not sophistication. It’s not strength. It does not elevate them to an elite class; it only reveals an insecure spirit in need of healing.

Teach them to mind their own growth, not other people’s business. Just because someone is quiet doesn’t mean they owe the world an explanation. Teach your children that curiosity is not a license to pry, and gossip is not a form of connection—it is a reflection of personal misery and insecurity. Backstabbing and rumor-spreading are not classy; they corrode the soul.

Teach them that envy has no place in a grateful heart. Not everyone who has more is showing off. Help them learn to genuinely celebrate the wins of others—their new purchases, their joy, their season of happiness—without turning it into a personal lack. Raise them not to be social climbers, chasing significance through circles, brands, or titles. And above all, teach them never to inflict harm on others—especially those who’ve done them no wrong. Not with words, not with actions, not even with silence or exclusion.

Above all, teach them humility. Life is fragile. Everything they possess now—intellect, talent, status—can be taken in an instant. Let them walk humbly, knowing that their value lies not in what they have, but in who they are when all else fades.

Raise children to be passionate about their calling. Teach them to love their work, to be diligent and devoted—not entitled. The world does not need more adults who think their seniority gives them the right to belittle others, especially the inexperienced. It needs more people who mentor, uplift, and bring light into the rooms they enter.

Above achievement, raise them with love. Wrap them in affection so they don’t go looking for it in all the wrong places. So they don’t chase approval at the expense of others. Remember: hurt people hurt people. And how a child behaves is often a mirror of how they were raised.

So raise them well—not to impress the world, but to heal it.

[reckoningeverymile]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐧𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐀 𝐁𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

There are moments in life when standing for truth or righteousness can feel like standing alone. Opposition may even come in groups, making it seem as if you’re outnumbered. But Scripture reminds us that numbers do not determine truth or strength—God does.

“𝙄𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣.”

This thought echoes the biblical reality that standing alone for righteousness is often the mark of true strength. In 2 Kings 6:16, Elisha tells his servant, “Do not be afraid, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” Though visibly outnumbered, God had sent His angelic army. Similarly, when David faced Goliath, he stood alone, yet he declared, “The battle is the Lord’s” (1 Samuel 17:47).

Being alone in doing right may look weak to the world, but in God’s eyes, it’s a display of courage and faith. Jesus Himself stood alone before the cross, abandoned and betrayed, yet His obedience changed the course of history. His example reminds us that being alone does not mean being powerless—especially when we are standing with God.

“𝙀𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢.”

The Bible also warns about the influence of silent or complicit bystanders. Romans 1:32 says, “Though they know God’s righteous decree… they not only do them but give approval to those who practice them.” When people remain silent in the face of wrongdoing or even justify it, they empower sin to grow.

King Ahab’s wicked reign was greatly fueled by the enabling influence of his wife Jezebel and the false prophets who told him what he wanted to hear (1 Kings 21). Meanwhile, prophets like Elijah who spoke the truth were often in the minority. Evil thrives where truth is suppressed and accountability is absent.

As believers, we are called not only to stand against evil but to refuse to be enablers of it. Ephesians 5:11 exhorts us: “Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.”

Conclusion:

Standing alone may be God’s way of showing how much strength He has already given you. And allowing evil to persist through silence or passive support is a responsibility we must not take lightly. May we be like the lone warrior who stands for truth and never be among the crowd that enables evil. For in Christ, even one person, fully surrendered, is more powerful than a multitude in the wrong.

[reckoningeverymile]

[reckoningeverymile]

When the Hurt Are Asked to Stay Silent: A Reflection and Plea for Justice in the Face of Bullying and Slander

Why is it that the ones who are hurt are often the ones expected to keep the peace? Why are the victims of bullying, slander, or manipulation the ones who are asked to be the bigger person, to turn the other cheek, to move on quietly? Why is their pain too uncomfortable for others to witness, but the offender’s behavior met with understanding and excuses?

There is something deeply wrong when victims are shamed for expressing the very real effects of injustice — when their anger is judged more harshly than the offense that caused it. When they cry out, they are labeled “bitter,” “ungracious,” or “unforgiving.” Meanwhile, the bully is often seen as a wounded soul, a misunderstood person who “needs grace.”

Grace, yes — but why is it extended so quickly to the one who inflicted harm, while the one who suffers is asked to stay quiet and endure?

This is not justice. This is not love.

This is a culture that fears confrontation more than it fears the consequences of silence.

It’s a culture that weaponizes forgiveness to silence truth.

It’s a community that, often unknowingly, teaches: “You must carry your pain quietly so others can stay comfortable.”

To be clear: grace is beautiful. But grace without accountability is not grace — it's enabling. And forgiveness without truth is not healing — it's repression.

It’s time we shift the narrative.

It's time we make space for victims to speak — with truth, with courage, even with trembling voices.

It's time we honor the pain of the offended before rushing to soothe the ego of the offender.

Because when we minimize harm, we do not protect peace — we prolong injustice.

To anyone who’s been bullied, slandered, or silenced: you are not “too much.” Your pain is valid. Your voice matters.

It is not wrong to call wrong things wrong.

It is not unchristian to seek accountability.

It is not unloving to speak truth in the face of deception.

Real reconciliation only happens when truth meets humility. And real healing begins when we stop asking the wounded to carry the full weight of the offense.

[reckoningeverymile]

“Wait on the LORD, and keep His way, and He shall exalt you to inherit the land; when the wicked are cut off, you shall see it.”

‭‭— Psalm‬ ‭37:34‬ ‭(NKJV‬‬)

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Understanding "Unmet Needs"

Lately, I’ve been observing the people around me more closely—not just their actions, but the motivations behind them. I find myself wondering: Why do they react that way? What unmet needs are driving that behavior? I’m beginning to realize that many adult patterns—whether in relationships, habits, or emotional responses—often trace back to childhood experiences. Maybe someone’s impulsive spending isn’t just about money, but about a deep-rooted longing to feel secure or seen. Maybe someone’s constant need for inclusion reflects years of feeling left out or forgotten.

I’m writing this because I want to understand, not to judge. I want to grow in empathy while also becoming more self-aware. As I explore how abandonment, attachment wounds, or trauma may shape how people relate and respond, I’m also asking myself: What unhealed parts of me influence how I perceive others? This journey isn’t just about them—it’s also about me.

Unmet needs and expectations from childhood can deeply shape behavior in adulthood, particularly in relationships. When a child’s emotional or physical needs aren’t met by their caregivers, it can lead to the development of unhealthy coping mechanisms or patterns that persist into adulthood.

1. Unmet Emotional Needs & Impulsive Behavior:

When a child grows up feeling emotionally neglected or rejected, it can manifest in impulsive behaviors like overspending, seeking validation, or trying to fill the emotional void in unhealthy ways. For example, a person who felt abandoned emotionally as a child might engage in compulsive buying to feel a temporary sense of satisfaction or to fill the void they carry. This behavior is often a way to feel in control or worthy, as they never learned how to meet their own emotional needs healthily.

2. Attachment and Abandonment Issues:

If someone was abandoned or didn’t experience consistent, nurturing love during childhood, they may struggle with forming secure attachments in adulthood. They may have an intense fear of abandonment, even in situations where it’s not realistic (like in friendships or romantic relationships). These individuals often seek reassurance, cling to others, or exhibit anxious attachment behaviors. They may find it hard to trust or believe that others will be there for them because they never had that assurance growing up.

In relationships, someone with abandonment issues might constantly test the commitment of their partner, often leading to anxious, overbearing behavior. They might also have difficulty navigating independence, as they rely on others to fill the emotional void.

3. Trauma Bonds:

Trauma bonds develop when an individual forms an attachment with someone who causes them harm or distress. This bond often forms in abusive or dysfunctional relationships, but it can also occur when love and care were intermittently provided, making the person feel “addicted” to the highs and lows of that relationship. The cycle of neglect followed by affection can create confusion and dependency in the person, leading them to repeatedly seek out relationships that mirror this inconsistency because it feels familiar to them.

In adulthood, trauma bonding might result in staying in toxic or abusive relationships, unable to break free because the person associates love with pain, confusion, or inconsistency.

4. Feeling Left Out & Offense:

A person who grew up feeling left out or neglected may develop a heightened sensitivity to exclusion or being ignored in social settings. This stems from childhood experiences of being overlooked or excluded, creating a deep fear of being unimportant or invisible. In adulthood, these feelings can trigger overreactions when they feel left out, even if it’s unintentional. They might internalize these moments, believing they aren’t valued or loved, which can lead to feelings of resentment, bitterness, or defensiveness.

In relationships, they may demand constant attention or validation to feel valued, and if their needs aren’t met, they might become offended or withdraw. They may also have trouble understanding healthy boundaries, as they might feel a sense of ownership over someone’s time, energy, or resources.

5. Desire for Inclusion and Sharing:

If someone has been excluded or felt deprived as a child, they may have an intense need to be included or to feel that others share with them in adulthood. This behavior is often rooted in their early experiences of scarcity—whether emotional or material—and the desire to compensate for that perceived lack. When someone with this history doesn't receive what they expect (e.g., attention, time, or resources), they can feel invalidated and hurt. They may perceive this as a rejection or betrayal, especially if it mirrors their childhood experiences of being neglected or left out.

In relationships, these individuals may struggle with feelings of entitlement, expecting others to share or include them in all aspects of their lives. If this expectation isn’t met, they may react with anger, withdrawal, or passive-aggressive behavior.

Healing from Unmet Needs:

To address these behaviors, healing often involves:

Self-awareness:

Recognizing the root causes of certain behaviors can be a critical first step in healing. Therapy, self-reflection, or journaling can help individuals uncover childhood experiences that shaped their current emotional responses.

Rebuilding Trust:

Learning to trust oneself and others is essential. For example, someone with abandonment issues can work on self-soothing and reassurance techniques, as well as cultivating relationships with people who provide stable, healthy attachments.

Healthy Boundaries:

Learning to set and respect boundaries in relationships helps individuals avoid unhealthy dynamics like trauma bonds or feeling entitled to others' time and resources.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT):

Therapy, such as CBT, can help individuals challenge distorted thinking patterns that contribute to negative behaviors, replacing them with healthier coping strategies.

Healing isn’t linear, but acknowledging the connection between unmet needs and adult behavior is a vital step in creating healthier patterns in relationships.

As I continue to reflect on the hidden stories behind people���s behaviors, I’m reminded that we’re all carrying invisible wounds—some acknowledged, others buried deep. What seems like overreaction, coldness, or neediness might actually be a cry for the love, validation, or safety they never received. This doesn’t excuse harmful behavior, but it helps me respond with compassion instead of quick judgment.

More importantly, this awareness invites me to look within. Are there patterns in me that stem from unmet needs or unresolved pain? How can I move toward healing, wholeness, and healthier relationships? I may not have the power to change others, but I can choose to grow in understanding, respond with grace, and create space—for others and myself—to feel seen, safe, and truly loved.

[reckoningeverymile]

You're talking sh*t for the hell of it

Addicted to betrayal, but you're relevant

You're terrified to look down

'Cause if you dare, you'll see the glare

Of everyone you burned just to get there

It's coming back around

And I keep my side of the street clean

You wouldn't know what I mean

Reflecting from Taylor Swift's song, there are people who speak venom for no reason, their words sharp not out of truth but for the thrill of stirring chaos. They're hooked on betrayal, always finding someone to step over, yet they manage to stay in the spotlight, somehow still seen and heard. But deep down, they’re afraid—afraid to look back or even glance downward, because the weight of the people they've wronged is too heavy to face. The path they climbed is scorched with the pain they’ve left behind, and justice, slow but sure, begins its return. Meanwhile, I walk in quiet confidence, my conscience clear. I’ve chosen integrity over revenge, but you wouldn’t understand that—your world doesn’t operate on the currency of peace.

I live my life with intention, careful where I step and what I leave behind. I take responsibility for my words, my actions, my choices. I make peace where I can, apologize when I must, and choose silence over pettiness. That’s how I keep my side of the street clean—not perfect, but honest. But you… you wouldn’t understand that. In your world, accountability is weakness and pride is power. Clean streets don’t interest someone who’s used to walking through mess without ever looking back.

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There’s something deeply beautiful about recognizing how far I’ve come.

In my early twenties, stepping into the world of independence and beginning my career, I was fragile—highly sensitive to criticism, easily swayed by the opinions of others. A single disapproving comment could unravel my peace. I was my own harshest critic, beating myself up for the smallest mistakes, feeding my mind with thoughts that drained my confidence instead of building it.

But time, grace, and experience have worked in me. Now that I’ve reached my thirties, I no longer carry that same heaviness. I’ve learned to breathe through imperfections and setbacks. I’ve discovered the power of practicing gratitude, speaking life over myself, and protecting my peace from voices that no longer deserve an audience in my mind.

I've come to realize that many of the criticisms thrown at me weren’t rooted in truth or care—but in the unresolved issues of others. People who are unkind at work weren't reflecting my flaws; they were projecting their own. And finally, I understand that I don't have to carry what was never mine to begin with.

I am growing. I am thriving. I am no longer the same.

Maybe the reason I’ve stayed in this workplace for so long isn’t stagnation, but sanctification. Maybe God is using this season—this environment—to mold me, to strengthen me, to teach me resilience. And maybe, just maybe, this is preparation for the blessings I’ve long prayed for.

Whatever the case, I look at the woman I’m becoming, and I am grateful. She is strong. She is healing. And she is rising.

[reckoningeverymile]

The Scapegoat Who Shines: When the Attacks Mean You're the Strong One

Have you ever felt like no matter what you do, you're always the one being blamed, misunderstood, or targeted? Maybe in your family, at work, or even in ministry—you're the one who gets the cold shoulder, the accusations, the constant criticism. And it hurts. Deeply.

But what if I told you that being scapegoated is not a sign of weakness, but of strength?

What if the constant attacks weren’t a reflection of your failure—but of your light?

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Narcissistic people don’t target the weak. They target the ones they can’t control.

You might be:

- The one who sees through manipulation.

- The one who won’t play along with false peace.

- The one who sets quiet, firm boundaries.

- The one who doesn’t beg to be included—but simply walks in quiet confidence.

To the insecure and controlling, that’s threatening.

You don’t follow their script. You don’t feed their ego. You don’t bow to their drama. And so, they try to rewrite the narrative—to make you the problem. Because if they can make you the scapegoat, they don’t have to look in the mirror.

---

But here’s the truth: They attack you because they lost access to manipulate you.

And that’s a victory in itself.

You may feel alone, but you are not forgotten. Heaven sees. God knows. He defends the innocent and strengthens the ones who quietly carry burdens that others don’t understand.

> “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven.” – Matthew 5:11-12

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What can you do when you’re the scapegoat?

1. Refuse to internalize the lies.

You are not who they say you are. You are loved, chosen, and set apart.

2. Set boundaries without guilt.

It is not unloving to protect yourself from ongoing harm. Even Jesus walked away from hostile crowds.

3. Stop explaining yourself to those who are committed to misunderstanding you.

Let your peace speak louder than their accusations.

4. Surround yourself with truth-speakers.

Find a safe space—a friend, mentor, counselor, or godly community—who can remind you of who you really are.

5. Let God be your defender.

You don’t have to retaliate. God sees every unjust word, every false story, every silent wound. And He promises to uphold the righteous.

> “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” – Exodus 14:14

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Final Encouragement:

You may be the scapegoat in their story, but you're the main character in God's story.

Keep shining. Keep walking in truth. Keep your heart clean. Because in the end, the one who was rejected, attacked, and blamed... is often the one God uses the most.

Your scars are not signs of shame.

They are signs that you survived what was meant to break you—and still chose to love, to lead, and to stand.

And that is powerful.

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[reckoningeverymile]

April, 1932 The diary of Anaïs Nin [Volume One: 1931-1934]

[reckoningeverymile]

An Open Letter to the One Who Tried to Break Me

You were once the loudest voice of criticism in a place that should have been safe for growth. You made my journey at work heavy, not because of who I was, but because of the battles you were silently fighting within yourself.

You started what became the most difficult season of my professional life. You bullied me. You slandered me. You went out of your way to turn others against me, fueled by a competition I never signed up for. For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why.

But over time, the picture became clearer. Your insecurities were deeper than what met the eye. You were struggling with wounds no one could see—abandonment, a lack of love, the absence of support that every person deserves. You were raised not with tenderness but with expectations, treated more like a task-doer than a daughter. That leaves a scar. I see that now.

And when love finally entered your life, it looked more like desperation than healing. You clung to it, as any human would. But the unresolved pain—your longing to feel chosen, seen, enough—poured into your work and relationships. Jealousy took the wheel. And everything good around you became something you had to attack or destroy, just to feel in control.

The younger ones at work reminded you of dreams deferred, of years lost. We weren't your enemies, but somehow we became targets. I became a target. And for a while, I hated you for it.

But not anymore.

Now, I feel something else: mercy.

Because I realized… you’ve probably never known what real joy, peace, or security feels like. You fought the world with bitterness, because the world never gave you a reason to trust it. And for that, I am deeply sorry—for you.

I won’t waste energy hating you anymore. What you did was wrong, yes. It hurt me, deeply. But I refuse to carry that pain longer than I need to. I’m choosing to heal. I’m choosing to grow. I’m choosing to be better—not bitter.

And while you may never apologize, I’ve already decided to let it go. Not because you deserve forgiveness, but because I deserve peace.

I hope one day you find the love you’ve always searched for—the kind that heals, not hides.

Sincerely,

The one you tried to break—but couldn't

An Open Letter to the Unkind Ones at Work

There are people whose presence makes work heavier than it should be—not because of the tasks, but because of the hostility they carry with them like a shadow. You are one of them.

I’ve long been disturbed by your behavior—your vulgarity, your shameless pride in a life that betrays the very values you claim to uphold. You openly justify infidelity, blaming a disappointing marriage while painting yourself as a good father. But goodness doesn’t contradict itself. Fatherhood doesn’t excuse disrespect, nor does disappointment justify betrayal.

Your personal life, though not mine to judge, bleeds into your work. The bitterness, the unresolved anger, the resentment—it spills out in your attitude, in your laziness, in your passive-aggressive ways. You withhold effort. You neglect what needs to be done. You mock others—especially women—with cruelty, body-shaming while being blind to your own flaws.

You act as if correction is an insult, though it’s merely a mirror. You’re a grown man in years, but your actions speak of immaturity, of a soul that hasn’t chosen to grow. You single me out. You mock me. You attempt to isolate me. You twist truths and plant seeds of rivalry—all to ensure I never feel at ease, never feel joy.

And you’re not alone. There’s another beside you—someone who mirrors your misery. She’s drowning in her own life, tethered to a husband who mistreats her, buried in debt, and consumed by envy. She cannot stand to see others enjoy what she thinks she’s been denied. And so, together, you both look at my peace, my joy, my growth—not with support, but with bitterness.

But here’s what you don’t know: your misery doesn’t control me.

I see through your cruelty now. Not with hate, but with pity.

Because it’s clear: you’re not truly angry at me. You’re angry at life. Angry at how it turned out. Angry at yourself. You’re fighting shadows in your own heart and projecting them on someone who never wanted to be your enemy.

And for that, I no longer hate you—I pity you.

I pity you for never knowing real joy. For living without peace. For being stuck in a cycle of destruction, both personally and professionally. I pity you because your war isn’t with me—it’s within yourself.

But while I pity you, I will not let your misery become mine.

I won’t let your bitterness bury my light. I won’t carry your burdens or wear your projections. I won’t apologize for my joy, my boundaries, or the life I’m building—just because you can’t stand to see someone else free.

You will not steal my peace.

I’m walking forward—calm, focused, and unbothered. And I hope, one day, you find healing too. Until then, I release the weight of your actions and carry only what belongs to me: joy, purpose, and peace.

Sincerely,

The one who chose growth over resentment

[reckoningeverymile]

[reckoningeverymile]

[reckoningeverymile]

Trusting God’s Justice

"You are always righteous, Lord, when I bring a case before you. Yet I would speak with you about your justice: Why does the way of the wicked prosper? Why do all the faithless live at ease?" — Jeremiah 12:1 (NIV)

Life often seems unfair. We see people who act unjustly thriving while those who seek to do good struggle. Jeremiah, a faithful servant of God, wrestled with this same question. He knew God was righteous, yet he struggled to understand why wicked people seemed to prosper. His honest conversation with God in Jeremiah 12:1-3 reflects a deep longing for justice and a desire for God to make things right.

Like Jeremiah, we may find ourselves questioning why evil seems to go unpunished. But the key lesson in this passage is not just the question—it’s Jeremiah’s approach. He doesn’t turn away from God in frustration; instead, he brings his concerns directly to the Lord. His trust in God’s righteousness remains firm even as he wrestles with difficult emotions.

God’s justice may not always be immediate, but it is certain. He sees beyond what we can understand. In verse 3, Jeremiah acknowledges this truth: “Yet you know me, Lord; you see me and test my thoughts about you.” Even when we don’t see justice unfolding as we expect, we can trust that God is working in His perfect time.

If you are struggling with injustice or unanswered questions, bring them to God. He welcomes honest prayers. Rest in the truth that He is righteous, and in His time, He will make all things right.

Reflection Questions:

1. Have you ever struggled with seeing injustice in the world? How did it affect your faith?

2. How can you follow Jeremiah’s example of bringing your questions to God while still trusting in His righteousness?

3. In what areas of your life do you need to trust that God’s justice will prevail in His perfect timing?

Prayer:

Righteous Lord, I know that You are just, even when I don’t understand why wickedness seems to prevail. Help me to trust in Your perfect timing and wisdom. When I struggle with doubts, remind me that You see all things and will bring justice in the right time. Strengthen my faith and help me to rest in Your righteousness. In Jesus’ name, Amen.