Burn Like A Fire
“I see very clearly that God shows no favoritism. In every nation He accepts those who fear Him and do what is right.”
— Acts 10:34–35 (NLT)
For most of my life, I believed in favoritism. Not just the kind that happens in families or schools or workplaces, but spiritual favoritism. I thought there were people God really loved, and then… people like me. People who had to earn their way in. People who were lucky to be tolerated.
That belief didn’t come from God. It came from man.
From the elders, the church rules, the unspoken standards that left me feeling like I could never measure up.
I tried.
I performed.
I obeyed.
I withered under the weight of trying to be "enough" to deserve a seat at the table.
What I didn’t know then and what Cornelius and Peter both came to see in Acts 10, is that the real table had already been set. That we’re all here, waiting before God, to hear the message the Lord has given. And that message isn’t based on hierarchy or behavior, it’s not based on whether your neighbor thinks you’re good enough. It’s based on Jesus.
It wasn’t one conversation or one moment that woke me up to the truth. It was a slow unraveling
a collection of brave people, quiet kindnesses, hard conversations, and moments of clarity that challenged the lie I'd built my life around.
That I had to be less to be accepted.
That my very existence was a burden.
That I was just white trash, and I needed to get ahead of the narrative before anyone else spoke it over me.
So I’d say it first. As a joke. As a shield. As if I could own the insult and rob it of its power.
But deep down, I believed it. I believed that I was the supporting character in every room. That I should be grateful for scraps. That I shouldn’t reach for more than I deserved. I lived with a slave mindset, convinced that dignity belonged to other people and would never belong to me….not me.
And yet…
“But if you suffer for doing good and endure it, this is commendable before God... The sins of some are obvious... and the good deeds done in secret will someday come to light.”
— 1 Timothy 5:25 (paraphrased)
I see now that all those years I was doing the work, quietly, secretly, sacrificially, God saw me. And He never stopped waiting for me to stop trying to win the world’s favor, and instead receive His.
A Moment I Couldn’t Escape
Not long ago, I attended a Women’s Night of Worship at StoneWater Church.
The crowd was loud, the room alive, the Spirit thick.
And then the song started.
“I speak Jesus… Jesus for my family…”
I tried to sing. But the moment the words “for my family” appeared on the screen, my throat closed. Physically. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I tried again and again
deep breaths, skipped verses, mental prep.
Nothing. I was being choked, spiritually and physically.
When I got to my car, shaken, I looked up the song ("I Speak Jesus") and played it on repeat. Now, I could say the words, but my body revolted with nausea, shaking, heat rising in my chest. I whispered the words at first, then louder, then louder still. I felt something breaking.
The Fire That Freed Me
As I drove, I saw it in my spirit:
“Break every stronghold. Shine through the shadows. Burn like a fire.”
And something inside me snapped wide open.
I screamed.
I cried.
I wailed.
I asked God to forgive me for withholding forgiveness, for holding on to pain,
for not seeing the torment my mother must’ve lived through.
I cried out for my family………………my sister, my father, everyone who abandoned me.
I asked God to break every demonic stronghold that had followed our bloodline.
I told Him I forgave them.
And I begged Him to shine through me. Burn it all down. Set me free.
That drive changed me.
I don’t know how I got home.
But I know I wasn’t the same.
We’re All Here
“We are all here in the presence of God to listen to everything the Lord has commanded you to tell us.”
— Acts 10:33
God shows no favoritism.
He doesn’t require pedigree.
He doesn’t weigh you against religious tradition.
He doesn’t demand performance.
He demands surrender.
We’re not called to carry the weight of legalism or worldly expectations.
We’re called to truth.
To wisdom.
To rest.
To Jesus.
And the minute I stopped trying to earn the message…I finally heard it.
– Candice, No Longer a Slave, Now a Daughter
