Mz C's Blog

 I serve in ministry not out of obligation, but from the overflow of a life being transformed by grace. My journey—from rebellion and brokenness to surrender and calling—has been marked by a deep ache: the pain of  misplaced identity , shaped by performance, perfectionism, and the pressure to measure up. I know how easy it is to fake faith—I’ve worn the mask myself. But what breaks me now isn't my ability to pretend; it's watching others in the church go through the motions, void of truth, connection, or transformation. There’s something grossly unsettling about watching faith be performed, not lived. God saw past my mask. He didn’t shame me—He reshaped me. He’s teaching me to live from belovedness, not from trying to earn a spot in the room. Why I Do Ministry Because I know the  ache of not knowing who you are , and I want others to discover identity rooted in Christ—not applause. Because  God’s love met me in my mess , not in my performance. Because the  pain ...

  The Gift of Walking Away Choosing Peace Without Guilt Post 4 in the Silent Prayers, Loud Lessons Series When Staying Costs Too Much Sometimes the greatest act of courage isn’t pressing in—it’s stepping back. Today, I walked away. Not with bitterness. Not with a grudge. But with a clarity that said:  I am not required to stay in spaces that silence me.  I don’t owe anyone my continued presence if it means sacrificing my peace. I used to believe love meant lingering. That to be faithful, I had to be forever available. But the Spirit whispered something different today:   “You can leave and still love. You can walk away and still walk in grace.” Leaving Isn’t Losing For so long, I equated stepping away with failure. If I didn’t smooth things over or fix what felt broken, I felt like I had failed. But now I see—it takes strength to leave chaos uninvited. It takes faith to release what no longer aligns. And it takes courage to choose stillness over drama, surrender...

  When the Familiar Tests You Seeing God in the Face of Family Post 3 in the Silent Prayers, Loud Lessons Series Home Is Where the Fire Starts It’s easy to write off tension when it comes from strangers. But what about when it comes from the people who know your rhythm, your habits, your triggers? The people who can shift a room without raising their voice? Today, my daughter’s mood changed with a single request. Nothing harsh, nothing loud. Just a shift—from sunshine to clouded silence. And I felt it like a draft through an open window. Years ago, I would’ve chased her down with pep, trying to “fix it.” But I’ve prayed to see like Jesus—to discern without dissecting, to perceive without pouncing. And that prayer met me in her quiet. Love Without Losing Yourself Being spiritually shrewd doesn’t mean dissecting everyone’s motives—it means not being entangled by their reactions. I didn’t lash out. I didn’t shut down. I honored what I felt without letting it hijack the moment. Love ca...

  The Clap Heard in Heaven When Boundaries Sound Like Victory Post 2 in the Silent Prayers, Loud Lessons Series The Moment That Demanded a Response He didn’t raise his voice. But I felt the pressure. He didn’t accuse me outright. But I felt cornered. It wasn’t the chaos of conflict—it was the choreography of control. The car drop-off wasn’t about the car. It was about him directing the day while disguising it as something for  me . And for years, I would’ve let it happen. Smiled. Went along. Smoothed it over with grace that cost me my peace. But not this time. A Sound That Set Me Free I clapped. Not in anger—but in awareness. A deliberate sound, born from discernment. That single act felt like heaven echoed back:   You see it now. And you’re no longer willing to shrink around it. It wasn’t about revenge or disrespect. It was about reclaiming. That clap broke the rhythm of control. It disrupted the unspoken agreement that I’d keep quiet, stay soft, and make it all oka...

Silence Speaks Learning to See Like Jesus Post 1 in the Silent Prayers, Loud Lessons Series The Prayer I Didn't See Coming I didn’t plan to pray for shrewdness. It just came up—from somewhere deep inside. I paused and whispered,  “Lord, give me the spirit of shrewdness.”  Not the sharp-tongued kind that cuts, but the spiritual kind that discerns. The Jesus kind. I thought it was a one-liner prayer. Turns out, it was an invitation. A Shift I Could Feel but Not Touch My daughter and I were in the car—laughing, running errands, doing life. When I asked her to call her father about helping with the grandchildren, something shifted. Her words didn’t change, but her presence did. From light to heavy. From open to… closed. I saw it. I felt it. But I didn’t press or perform or pacify. I let the silence breathe. That moment wasn’t about fixing—it was about seeing. Clapback Without a Word Later, I stood toe-to-toe with another test: my husband’s layered expectations hidden inside “helpf...