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LeadDifferently #Integrity #KingdomLeaders Have you ever been minding your own business, living your everyday life, and then received a phone call to contact a recruiter? You make the call… and everything changes. They tell you, “I’ve never recruited a player I can’t win with.” They say they will protect you, guard you, and fight for you. They promise fairness and to be fierce against every opponent so that you can finally experience what you deserve—the win. They make you believe that winning is inevitable. They even promise fair restoration of whatever has been lost— in other games. as if the win itself will make everything right. They give you hope of looking to the other side—the win— as you struggle through training season. You believe them. They talk about endurance, grit, and going the distance. They tell you about the hills, the valleys, the opponents, the long nights— and you say yes, because you counted the cost and they made you believe that losing was impossible. And what is winning, anyway? For you, winning represents fairness, integrity, and the restoration of what you lost just to be in the game. So you join the team. You give your all. You sacrifice for the mission, for the dream, for the “win.” For the promise. But somewhere along the way, that same recruiter decides second place is enough. But second place won’t even help you recover what you gave up during the regular season. And when you say, “No — I’d rather go for the win. I’d rather play in the championship game— a public display for people to judge the game for themselves, a chance for my losses to be restored,” they reply, “If you wanna focus on the championship, I’ll walk away.” So they use intimidating and coercive language, and ultimately issue an ultimatum— “Second place or I walk.” You choose the championship. And they choose to walk. They quit. Not because you failed them— but because you were willing to go the distance, to hold on to the promise. But they mistook your strength for defiance. Then, somewhere along the line, you realize you and the recruiter are no longer on the same team. In fact, it almost seems like they’re helping the other team win against you. So you go to the one who has the power to grant more time— to even the playing field, to rebuild, recover, and start again. But they’ve already heard the recruiter’s version of the story. Your voice is ignored. So instead of understanding your plight, you receive a reprimand—not for quitting, but because the recruiter abandoned you. And as you look around, it becomes painfully clear: everyone else still has a team. Everyone else still has backing. You’re the only one left standing alone— without a team, abandoned by the recruiter. And left with an unfulfilled promise. And the question that echoes is this: Did they lose sight of the goal—to win, to play in the championship— or was the goal always second place? And somewhere between the promises and the pressure, you realize the truth: It was never about the championship—the win. But what was it really about? What do you think it was about? ⸻ 📖 Scripture “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9 (NIV) ⸻ 🪞 Questions for Reflection 1. When have you mistaken an invitation to be “heard” for an attempt to be silenced? 2. What does winning mean when integrity is the true prize? 3. Where have you been asked to settle for second place instead of trusting God for restoration? 4. In what ways might your own leadership style resemble the recruiter—making promises you can’t or don’t intend to keep? 5. In what ways can you guard your heart against the leadership style of the recruiter—so you don’t lead through control, coercion, or fear? 6. Who in your life promised to protect you, and how has God shown Himself to be your ultimate Defender? 7. How do you stay faithful when the “team” walks away?

This reflection continues to grow as God keeps revealing more. Feel free to return here or subscribe on my site if you’d like to walk with me as the revelation unfolds. (last update 10/15 at 8:10 a.m.) When God Woke Me at 2 A.M.(on Oct. 15, 2025) It was 2:00 in the morning, and I was recovering from surgery. My body was still healing, but my spirit was wide awake. In moments like this I wonder. “is someone praying for me?” The Divine Forming Mystery —the Father who forms us (Isaiah 64:8), the Son who reforms us (2 Corinthians 5:17), and the Spirit who transforms us (2 Corinthians 3:18)— stirred me gently from sleep. It wasn’t loud; it was love. That quiet but unmistakable nudge: “Wake up, Listen, I have something to share with you.” As I lay there, revelation began to flow like water—steady, clear, unstoppable. The Spirit started speaking about education, formation, and the difference between learning about God and being shaped by God. In that moment I realized I wasn’t just recovering physically; God was restoring my sight spiritually. “You’ve been trying to plant Kingdom seeds in traditional soil.” Right then I understood—this was not just a message for me. It was a call to the Church. Christian education doesn’t need better programs—it needs new wine. So I got out my phone and started writing the revelation, and what you’re about to read began to flow straight from the classroom of the Spirit. Traditional Education vs. Christ Education Traditional Education says: “I’m the one who knows, and you can’t know unless I tell you.” It builds hierarchy, control, and measurement. But Christ Education says: “You already know, because you were created in the image of the One who knows.” (Genesis 1:27) It begins with relationship, not information. It points us toward infinite knowing, not finite knowledge. Traditional Education teaches us to master content. Christ Education (CE) teaches us to let the Source master us. (Proverbs 3:5-6) That changes everything—because CE knows how to hold space for the Teacher—capital “T”—to show up in the room (John 14:26). I can teach math without integrity or kindness. But I can’t teach relationship with God without those virtues alive in me (Galatians 5:22-23). That’s what makes Christ Education sacred, it’s not about mastering information; it’s about being mastered by Love. Because it’s not informational—it’s incarnational. It’s Christ alive in us, not concepts about Him Shared Praxis: The Heartbeat of Christ Education This method was taught to me by one of my favorite seminary professors, Dr. Beverly Johnson Miller Thomas Groome, a Christian educator, taught that faith learning happens through participation in transformation. Shared Praxis joins reflection and action. Teacher and learner bring their stories into conversation with Scripture and the Spirit— much like Jesus walking with the disciples on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-32). The rhythm (this is very abbreviated version research this method): Start with life. Reflect through faith. Engage in action. Return to reflection. It’s not a cycle of repetition—it’s a spiral of growth (James 1:22-25). When we learn this way, we’re not just talking about God—we’re meeting Him in real time. Why Passive Learning Leaves Shallow Roots According to the Learning Pyramid, we retain about 5 percent of what we hear in a lecture, but up to 90 percent when we discuss or teach others. So if most of our teaching is lecture-based, the roots will always be shallow (Matthew 7:24). That’s why people can go to church week after week, attend Sunday School and Bible study, and still not grow deep roots. They’ve been sitting under the sprinkle—never drinking the water (John 7:37-39). Shared Praxis moves us from hearing to doing— from lecture to living encounter. Preaching and teaching in a lecture-style, passive way is like sprinkling water on someone who’s dehydrated. It might cool them for a moment, but it won’t sustain them. Active learning, though—that’s like hooking them up to an I.V.—Internal Virtue (Luke 8:46). It delivers life straight to the source. It restores virtue—that divine flow of power that transforms from the inside out. This isn’t just an I.V.—it’s the flow of healing running through the Body. The Internal Virtue of Christ is moving again, running through the I.V. for the sick to be made well. Because this is what formation really is— the life of Jesus circulating through His people until what was weak becomes strong again. Why One-on-One Discipleship Forms Deeper Roots Corporate discipleship often keeps learning passive. But one-on-one discipleship invites reflection and relationship— just like Jesus did with His disciples (Mark 9:28-29). The best way to learn is to teach— not by lecturing, but by reasoning together (Isaiah 1:18). Transformation happens not in the crowd but in the conversation— not in the performance of knowledge, but in the practice of relationship. The Silence of Revelation We’ve taught believers to listen only for what they already know. We’ve made people comfortable with repetition and suspicious of revelation. But revelation isn’t rebellion—it’s relationship. The Spirit of Truth still guides us into all truth (John 16:13). Shared Praxis reawakens holy curiosity. It whispers, “Lord, speak again.” Old Wine, Old Wineskins: The Drought of Revelation We’re pouring old wine into old wineskins (Mark 2:22). Recycling what was once fresh. Repurposing other people’s revelation. Serving what no longer satisfies the thirsty. The tragedy is that we’ve mistaken aroma for substance. It still smells like something sacred, but when you taste it — there’s no power left in the pour. It doesn’t refresh. It doesn’t revive. It fills the cup, but it no longer fills the soul. The Spirit isn’t asking us to admire what once had fragrance — He’s inviting us to drink what’s still alive. We’re not allowing the water to be turned into the choice wine like Jesus did at Cana (John 2:10). Because when the living water becomes choice wine, it doesn’t just quench thirst — it awakens revelation. When I say Divine Forming Mystery, some even you may have raised your eye brows and wanted to immediately want to discount it. But Scripture shows us that God is Divine (Psalm 99:9), God is Forming (Isaiah 64:8), and God is Mystery (Romans 11:33). The Father forms us, the Son reforms us, and the Holy Spirit transforms us. That’s not New Age—that’s new wine. And when I talk about formation power, Scripture agrees: “It is God who works in you to will and to act.” (Philippians 2:13) We form or deform others by how we speak and act (Ephesians 4:29). Even when Scripture describes God as a Father and a mother, some clutch their pearls, and raise their brows when scripture says, the Divine Forming Mystery is “a mother to the motherless” (Psalm 68:5), we still resist what doesn’t sound familiar - in our teaching, in our sermons and in our converations. This is why we must bring out the new wine— because pouring the old into new skins isn’t forming Christ in us with the depth and discipleship needed to impact generations to come. Generation Alpha is rising—and they’re watching. Facilitating Shared Praxis: The Rhythm Start with life — “Where have you seen God this week?” Name the tension — “What feels unresolved?” Bring in the story of faith — read and reflect together. Discern together — “What is the Spirit saying?” Respond — “How will you live this truth?” Reflect again — “What has changed?” It’s not about teaching more—it’s about teaching differently. Reintroducing the Church to the classroom of the Spirit. When the Teacher Showed Up I’ve seen what happens when people come out of passive learning. When I began using Shared Praxis in Bible study—it’s actually the only method I use— the atmosphere shifted. I call it the 20/80 Rule: I speak 20 percent of the time; they speak 80 percent of the time. That’s when the Teacher—capital “T”—shows up (John 14:26). People discover the Spirit speaks to them and through them. I hold space—even when something sounds off—because we learn by reasoning together (Acts 17:2). Sometimes we leave without a “right” answer, but we leave with deeper relationship. And when that happened, Bible study exploded. People who had never come before started showing up. They were excited to open Scripture again—not because they were being taught at, but because they were being taught with. They were hearing God for themselves. They were being transformed. This is what happens when Christ Education is present. This is what happens when we stop pouring the old wine and finally bring out the new. Many of our churches have been planting in traditional soil—relying on familiar methods for sharing the Word and making disciples. Those methods have produced faithfulness but not always depth. We’ve depended on what was once fruitful, but we’re discovering that it no longer allows people to dig their roots deep. So when they encounter what is out of alignment with God, they often don’t even recognize it. It’s time to till the soil again—to create space for roots to reach the Living Water—the new wine. Do we really want to be like Jesus? He preached to the masses (Matthew 5–7), He met with His small group of disciples (Mark 4:10; Mark 9:30–31), and He invested in one-on-one discipleship — conversations that formed hearts, not just minds (John 3:1–2 with Nicodemus; John 21:15–17 with Peter). Jesus modeled the counterbalance of public teaching, intimate community, and personal formation. If we want to form Christ in others, we must return to His way. We need it all— sermons that stir hearts, small groups that build community, and one-on-one discipleship that forms character. This is the new wine. And the classroom of the Spirit is pouring it out. This is a Rooted & Rising Reflection Information can inform you, but only relationship can transform you. We are not guardians of old information we are stewards of ongoing revelation. “The Word of God is living and active.” (Hebrews 4:12) The Spirit is still teaching. The question is—will we let Him be the Teacher in the classroom? Reflection Question: How is God inviting you to bring out the new wine in your teaching or leadership? To learn more about the Rooted & Rising Pilot Journey and explore resources from the Ignite the Church Initiative, visit www.joycelynignites.com . Head to the homepage to join the journey. If you would like Joycelyn to teach this method to you and your cingregation, contact joycelyn@joycelynignites.com Let’s make disciples together. Pull out the new wine, the choice wine and serve those who are thirsty for the living water.

Pharaoh didn’t start out as a villain. He became hard-hearted by repeatedly resisting truth. Each time God gave him a chance to listen, pride took the lead. That’s how hard-heartedness forms—small refusals that pile up until compassion can’t break through. We see the same pattern all around us: • people defending their image instead of doing what’s right, • systems protecting power while ignoring pain, • hearts turning numb because caring costs too much. But God still offers the same remedy He gave through Ezekiel: “I will remove the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” And Proverbs 4:23 gives us our responsibility: “Guard your heart with all diligence, for out of it flow the issues of life.” To guard your heart means: Stay tender to conviction. Don’t explain away what the Spirit exposes. Keep compassion flowing. Don’t let disappointment make you cynical. Practice humility. Admit when you’re wrong, forgive quickly, and let God fight for you. Feed your soul. Worship, rest, and truth keep the heart soft. The cure for a hard heart isn’t outrage; it’s openness. While others grow cold, we stay teachable, forgiving, and aware. Because once the heart closes, freedom stops flowing. “Lord, in a world of hard hearts, keep mine soft. Let humility overcome pride, and love be stronger than fear.” Reflection Questions: Where might I be resisting the softening work of God in my own heart? What daily practice helps me guard my heart so compassion doesn’t run dry? #GuardYourHeart #FaithReflection #JoycelynIgnites Photo by Luke Jones Unsplash

The Victory Is the Revelation Anyone can win if they don’t play fair. That’s not victory — that’s deceptuon dressed up as triumph. I told my grandson this week, “The victory is not the win. The victory is the revelation.” Because when you’re in the game — whether it’s life, leadership, playing chess (which he is learning) or sports— you learn two things: 1. You learn about yourself. How much courage you carry. How deep your integrity and faith runs. How strong your endurance is when the rules aren’t in your favor. 2. You learn about your opponent. Their character, their integrity, or lack thereof, becomes clear. And when they don’t play fair, you get the revelation of who they really are. Winning becomes impossible when your opponent doesn’t play fair. But here’s the thing — that’s where the real victory is found. Because God lets you see behind the curtain. He gives you revelation that no scoreboard or chessboard- in my grandsons case- can measure. Jesus said, “For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open” (Luke 8:17). That’s the promise: exposure is inevitable. And Paul reminds us, “But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:57). Notice he doesn’t say through people — but through Christ alone. Your opponent may choose not to play fair (and make no mistake it’s a choice) But the true victory is when their integrity (or the lack of it) is revealed, and you walk away wiser, stronger, and no longer deceived. The revelation is the victory because the win fades. The scoreboard or chessboard changes. But revelation? That stays. Revelation is the real crown.

This morning I was struck by Strong’s Hebrew #408 — the word אַל (’al) — which means no, not, never. It shows up in powerful places all through Scripture, where God establishes His protective boundaries and His promises. Over and over, God uses this word to set boundaries, to protect, and to remind His people that His promises cannot be canceled.  Genesis 13:8 — “Let there be no (408) strife between me and you.”  Genesis 15:1 — “Fear not (408), Abram: I am your shield and your very great reward.”  Genesis 19:8 — “Do nothing (408) to these men; they are under my roof.”  Genesis 19:17 — “Look not (408) behind you; escape to the mountain.”  Exodus 20:13–16 — “You shall not (408) kill. You shall not (408) commit adultery. You shall not (408) steal. You shall not (408) bear false witness.” Again and again, 408 is God’s holy “No” — His refusal to let evil, fear, or destruction have the last word. His No protects His bigger Yes. When God says 408, He is saying:  • No obstacle can stop what I am doing.  • No silence can cancel My promises.  • Nothing is wasted in My hands.  • Never forget — I am faithful. Hang in there! His No always guards a greater Yes! #just408  # #FaithfulGod

I went to seminary not just for myself, but so I could share what I learned with pastors and congregations—even if it’s only through a reflection piece like this one. As I reflect, I know that we are living in a time where there is no doubt in my mind—pastors and congregations would benefit from knowing what I know. So if you wanna know what I know, let me know. I am entrusted with what God reveals, and this is what God most recently revealed to me. And so, right now, I’m going to tell you a little bit of what I know… Because, as much as we may not want to think about it, there’s going to come a time when the church will once again experience a season of retreat. What do I mean by that? I mean we will have to go back home. We will have to leave the brick-and-mortar buildings and return to simpler ways of being the Church—much like we did during COVID. The problem is, most churches weren’t prepared the first time. Many had not cultivated true connection. Many had not built the kind of clarity that anchors a congregation in stormy times. Many had not activated the kind of missional imagination that helps the body of Christ adapt and thrive in disruption. And many churches are still recovering—not from the virus, but from the exposure of fragility. I believe COVID was a warning. A holy signal. A prophetic preparation. And here’s what I know: in my reflection, I see a way the body of Christ could be strengthened now—so that when the next shutdown or disruption occurs, the Church would not just survive, but endure with power, connection, and clarity. But here’s the hard truth: this depends on removing the imbalance where 20% of the people do 80% of the work. That old pattern cannot carry us into the next season. The whole body must be activated. The whole body must be engaged. The whole body must be ready. As I continue to reflect, I sincerely believe that the future health of the Church depends on whether or not we are willing to build connection, walk in clarity, remove the imbalance, and stir up missional imagination. This is what I know. My heart in this season is to share what I know. And if you wanna know more…keep checking back, because there is more to know.

A Word Before We Begin My heart is for the house of God to thrive. What follows may sound like strong critique, but it comes from love, from study, and from the many stories people have shared with me over the years. As one who has studied churches, I sincerely believe the 20/80 imbalance is one of the greatest hindrances to church growth—both numerically and spiritually. I also believe we are living in a time when we cannot afford to settle for 20% of the people carrying the mission. We need 100% of the body showing up, serving, and growing. This reflection names the problem, but it also points to a solution. My hope is that pastors, leaders, and congregants alike will read this as a resource—not to wound, but to awaken. This begins my series on Ignite the Church The Imbalance I have discovered that in many churches, there’s an imbalance: 20% of the people are doing 80% of the work. And it doesn’t just wear people out—it starves discipleship. It keeps spiritual formation shallow. It burns out pastors. And it leaves gifts buried that God intended for His people to use. I’ve also heard of leaders who won’t let people serve unless they are giving “consistently”—or if they are not giving at all. But here’s the truth: some may not be giving because they don’t feel they belong. They refuse to fund their own oppression—just like keeping their dollars out of Target or Walmart. Jesus never used giving as a criterion to lead or serve. Peter denied Him three times, and still Jesus discipled him and handed him the keys to the Church. When we make giving the gatekeeper, we risk missing the shepherd boy—or girl—still out in the field. And this is one way the 20/80 imbalance has been created. Why Home Doesn't Feel Like Home Then there’s the “Welcome Home” slogan. So many churches use it. But what does home really mean? Home is where you can move furniture, paint the walls, take responsibility for its care, buy new dishes, hang your pictures, and make the house better. In home, you have a voice and a say-so. But in too many churches, “home” doesn’t work that way. The pastor acts as the owner of the house. He says: “We’ve got to pay the bill, so you need to give your money.” He points to the dishes: “They need to be washed, so you need to wash them.” He looks at the floors: “They need to be cleaned, so you need to clean them.” And for the 80%, that doesn’t feel like home—it feels like duty. So they disengage. Even some in the 20%—the faithful few who start out with energy—get restless. They sense there has to be more than just showing up Sunday after Sunday, Wednesday after Wednesday(the average mid-week church day), keeping the routine going. They begin to recognize that what was supposed to be home feels more like maintenance. Why the 80% Step Back And here’s another issue: too often leaders focus only on those who seem to be doing more and giving more—the visible 20%. And in the process, they ignore or dismiss the 80%. They never stop to ask: Why isn’t the 80% engaged? Instead, they assume the 80% must be lazy, uncommitted, or unwilling. But what if it’s not that at all? What if they’re discerning? What if they’re looking, observing, and realizing that some things simply don’t add up? What if they’re unsettled because they see red flags that others ignore? And sometimes, this doesn’t mean they’ve never tried. There are people in the 80% who did show up, who did try to get involved. But they noticed that only a select few had a real voice. Only a select few were allowed to fully flow in their gifting. Only a select few were trusted to “make the house their home.” And when that happens, it paralyzes the system. It becomes harder and harder to stay motivated when Sunday after Sunday, Wednesday after Wednesday, you see the same faces doing all the work—not because they’re the only ones willing, but because they’re the only ones allowed. This is another reason why people disengage. Not because they don’t care. Not because they don’t want to serve. But because the culture of the house doesn’t make room for them. And maybe this is the deeper issue: the 20% may have actually fallen into groupthink. Groupthink happens when people go along with the group to keep peace or avoid conflict. They stop questioning whether the direction is right. They just keep the system running, even if it’s broken. And in the process, the 20% become more loyal to the routine than to the Spirit. And let’s be honest—if the 20% are the ones who never say no, never question, never imagine something different—then that’s not heroism, that’s conformity. That’s not faithfulness, that’s captivity. Meanwhile, the 80% aren’t necessarily uncommitted. Many of them have become disengaged because they are discerning. They see patterns in ministry that don’t align with God’s heart. They notice when systems elevate productivity over presence. They sense when leadership is more focused on control than on Christ. The 20% keep moving because that’s what they’ve always done. But the 80% step back, not because they don’t care, but because something inside them says, “This isn’t the way.” The Real Issue And that’s the real imbalance. Not just numbers, but posture. A group that has fallen into groupthink, and a group that has discerned that something is off. The imbalance is not a people problem—it’s a discipleship problem. It’s not the 80% who are broken; it’s the disciple-making process that needs to be reformed. And yes, I know there will be pushback: “You can’t please everybody. You’ll never get 100%.” But this isn’t about pleasing everybody. This is about creating the kind of environment where integrity, transparency, hospitality, and missional imagination make space for the Spirit to move. When that happens, people don’t just “help out.” They come alive. They see the hands and feet of God moving in everyone, not just in the faithful few. They are drawn into the house of God because they see the move of God. The Solution There is hope—because there is a solution. This imbalance can be overcome, but not by pushing people harder or guilting them into service. The solution is to reform the disciple-making process. A process that takes everyone who is a part of the congregation deeper in their spiritual formation so they develop intimacy with God they discover who they are in Christ. A process that helps them discover their gifts and where those gifts fit in the life of the Church. A process where shared leadership is practiced, so responsibility is carried together, not hoarded at the top. A process of true assimilation—not just adding names to a roll, but helping people find a place where they belong, where their voice matters, and where they can grow. And I want to be clear: I’m not talking about some far-off dream. I’ve seen it happen. When I studied one of the fastest-growing churches in America—a church plant—they launched with 100 people, and everyone was actively engaged. That church group grew exponentially, with a need for a third service, after just three years. The church hadn't just grown numerically; the people I interviewed (randomly) also had spiritual depth. When I asked people about their involvement, no one said, “I don’t know where I belong” or “I don’t know what to do.” They knew their place. They were flowing in their gifts. Was the process perfect? No. Every church has weaknesses. But it showed me this: engagement at that level is possible. Not only possible—it’s powerful. I know the toll this imbalance takes. It doesn’t just exhaust congregations—it frustrates pastors. It creates restlessness in leaders who long for something deeper but feel stuck in a routine. It drains energy, creativity, and joy out of ministry. But here’s the good news: it doesn’t have to stay that way. I have no problem being a resource to pastors and leaders who feel trapped in this cycle. I know what it looks like, I’ve heard the stories, and I’ve seen the weariness. And I also know that when discipleship is reformed—when formation, gifts, shared leadership, and true belonging take root—the Church comes alive again. Reflection Questions For the 20%: Am I serving out of calling, or have I slipped into groupthink? Where do I need to recover courage, imagination, and discernment in my service? For the 80%: What do I need in order to re-engage? What would help me feel at home—valued, heard, and called into my true gifts? For Pastors & Leaders: What am I willing to do to move beyond groupthink and activate the 80%? How will I reform our disciple-making process so that every voice matters, and the whole body comes alive to lift Jesus? God’s house was never meant to be a place where only a few carry the weight. It was meant to be a true home—a faith community where: Everyone is engaged. Everyone serves according to their gifts. Everyone grows in belonging, not in being used. Let's build together: Stop burning out the 20%. Ignite the 80%. Let’s have a conversation if you want to turn your 20% into 100%. 📩 joycelyn@joycelynignites 📲 Facebook: @joycelynignites

“He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; he seats them with princes and has them inherit a throne of honor.” — 1 Samuel 2:8 (NIV) When I was in the 6th grade, I was cast as the lead in a school play called “Jive Cinderella.” In 1979, at just 12 years old, I proudly played a Black Cinderella. My mom was thrilled that I got the leading role, and I practiced for weeks to bring that story to life. But on opening night, something happened that none of us expected. Despite my role as Cinderella, I didn’t get the Prince. Instead, one of the stepsisters walked off with him. My mom was livid. She realized they had changed the ending of the story because of me — because I was a Black girl. In their eyes, Cinderella could not marry a white boy Prince. My mother refused to let that stand. The next day, she went to my principal, my teacher, and even the school superintendent. She fought for me to have the true Cinderella ending — not a diminished version rewritten by bias. And on the second night of the play, the story shifted. This time, I walked off the stage with the Prince by my side. My mom had made it clear: her Black daughter was worthy of a Happily Ever After. Looking back now, I realize how prophetic that moment was. It wasn’t just about a school play. It was about refusing to let systems alter the ending simply because of who was in the role. It was about dignity, truth, and refusing to accept less when God has promised more. And isn’t that what we’re still fighting for today? That the “Happily Ever After” in our country belongs to everyone — no matter their skin color, gender, or place in life? That the original intent of justice and love cannot be rewritten to exclude? My stood up for my Happily Ever After My mom’s fight taught me that Happily Ever After's are not just for fairy tales. They’re worth contending for in real life. And sometimes it takes someone who loves you enough to stand up, call out injustice, and demand that the ending reflect the Truth. Paul reminds us that God comforts us so that we can comfort others (2 Corinthians 1:3–4). My mom’s fight was not just for me — it was a glimpse of the Kingdom. And now, her courage is an inspiration for me to contend for others, to make sure no one’s story is rewritten or silenced because of who they are. So I ask again: Whose Happily Ever After are you contending for? Because fighting for justice, dignity, and truth isn’t just for ourselves — it’s for the generations after us. Reflection Questions: Have you ever had your story “rewritten” because of someone else’s prejudice or bias? Who in your life has fought for your dignity when others tried to take it away? What Happily Ever After are you still contending for today — in your family, your community, or your nation Related Reflections : These reflections are part of my ongoing journey to speak truth with faith and courage, even when it comes at great cost. I share them so that no woman's voice has to be silenced and so that justice and love can walk together. The Reflection Table: My Cinderella Story My Story: Every Day I Cried Unresolved: My Concern For Future Generations "The Impact of the Oppression of Women in the Church: A Personal Reflection" A Broken Church: Understanding the Reasons a Church Might Get Sued Finding True Peace in Righteousness: A Journey of Justice and Assurance in Isaiah 32:17 Awaken the Reformer Within You: Overcoming the Bystander Effect in Today's Church

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.” — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 (NIV) This week, I saw Attorney Ben Crump stand publicly with tennis player Taylor Townsend. Whether he represents her or is simply supporting her, the point is — he chose to support her. And that speaks volumes As he wrote he called her the “underdog”: “When others tried to dim her light, she showed the world her power.” Because sometimes support itself is a shield. It says: “Mess with her if you want to, but she’s not standing alone.” Too often, Black women carry the weight of injustice in silence. We speak truth, and the system closes ranks. But when visible support shows up, the atmosphere shifts. It’s no longer her word against the world — it becomes a chorus of truth. Taylor’s moment reminded me: justice isn’t always about representation. Sometimes it’s about recognition. About someone with a platform saying, “We see her. We stand with her.” That kind of support changes everything. Reflection Questions 1. Who in your life has stood with you when you needed it most? 2. How can you show visible support to someone who is carrying a heavy burden today? 3. What does it look like for powerful institutions to move beyond silence and into solidarity? Related Reflections : These reflections are part of my ongoing journey to speak truth with faith and courage, even when it comes at great cost. I share them so that no woman's voice has to be silenced and so that justice and love can walk together. The Reflection Table: My Cinderella Story My Story: Every Day I Cried Unresolved: My Concern For Future Generations "The Impact of the Oppression of Women in the Church: A Personal Reflection" A Broken Church: Understanding the Reasons a Church Might Get Sued Finding True Peace in Righteousness: A Journey of Justice and Assurance in Isaiah 32:17 Awaken the Reformer Within You: Overcoming the Bystander Effect in Today's Church #thereflectiontable #Mystory #noteasilybroken #cordofthreestrands #TaylorTownsend #BenCrumpSaidIt #StrengthInUnity #standwithher #SolidarityStrengthens #SupportIsAShield #LightCannotBeDimmed #kingdomreflections #truthandaccountability #lightoverdarkness

I thought by now I would be writing a blog—and recording a podcast—celebrating the resolution of a long, painful situation I’ve been walking through. But it’s August – while the events that precipitated this situation started a little over two years, it’s been one year since I made a public statement. And there is still no resolution. Yesterday, my granddaughter climbed into my lap. She’s been anxious about starting first grade, and I’ve been doing what I know to do—hugging her tight, pointing her back to God, praying with her through her little worries. But as I held her close, something stirred in me. I couldn’t stop thinking about her future. I couldn’t stop asking: Where will she find a faith community that sees her? Values her? Honors her voice? What happens if she’s ever harmed by leadership? Will there be a community with enough courage and integrity to make it right? These are the questions I carry—not just for her, but for all my grandchildren, and the generations rising now: Generation Z, Generation Alpha. What are we handing them? What kind of spiritual soil are we planting their faith in? With the state the world is in, people are not just looking for a place to worship—they are longing for a place to trust. They are desperate to know which faith communities offer a vision that isn’t just aspirational, but incarnational.   And right now, from where I’m standing, those kinds of churches feel painfully rare. And I know one day, I’ll have to tell my grandchildren my story. Maybe not now. Maybe not until they’re adults. But one day, they will need to know what Mimi walked through. And I pray I’ll be able to tell them with a redemptive ending and if there isn’t one, then I worry—will this leave a bitter taste in their mouths when I tell them? Will they be tempted to distrust Faith communities altogether? This situation has impacted our household. They’ve seen my distracted eyes. They’ve felt the moments when irritation or weariness leaks out. They are feeling a sense of church homelessness. Because there’s been no healing moment, just a holding pattern. But here's the deeper truth. Internally, I’m not shaken. I know  God is working all things together for good. (Romans 8:28) I know   He has never left me nor forsaken me. (Hebrews 13:5) So even if the outcome remains unresolved , my identity isn’t. Lissen, I know Faith communities can  mess up. But they can also  make it right.   From where I stand, it looks like evil and wickedness are winning. But we wrestle not with flesh and blood, right? (Ephesians 6) And while I still believe in a just God, I now find myself fiercely protective of my grandchildren, who are age six and ten. I want them to be a part of a faith community where I can be confident that their mental, emotional, and spiritual life is protected. I want them surrounded by truth. By justice. By love. Because if we don’t raise the standard now…what kind of Faith communities are we handing to them? So, no—I don’t have a resolution to share today. But I do have a testimony: I’m still standing. And I’m still hoping. And I still believe in the kind of Faith community where goodness follows, where accountability matters, and where love reigns supreme even when it seems the pickens are slim. This is the tension I am standing in—the tension of waiting for God’s mercy, which is giving time for harm to be amended… and watching closely to see if repentance over reputation, truth over image, and righteousness over self-preservation will be the redemptive ending to this season in my life. I am praying that love will win. When that day comes — and I believe it will — I will share it not as a victory, but as a testimony of what God can do when hearts are willing, and I look forward to telling that story. I’ll let you know when I know.

I have always had the dream of using my gifts in the local church. One of my primary reasons for going to seminary was that I would take what I learned back to a local church and help to nurture and develop believers to become more spiritually mature. I had waited half my life to serve in a local church where my gifts were accepted (I am 55). Then it happened. I went to a church's website to find the time of services and discovered a career tab, that revealed my dream "job". My eyes watered; that "job" description was written just for me. I applied. I got the "job," and within the first ninety days, I had preached a sermon, taught Bible Study (people started returning), led a workshop for teachers (people wanted more), and met some of the most loving congregants that I had ever met in a church. I received positive responses for everything I did. To God Be the Glory! I was tearing up or crying every day because of the pure joy of serving God's people and the love and acceptance I had experienced. However, my tears of joy were flowing parallel to my tears of sadness because I had discovered that although the church where I served had a charge to love God and to love people, there was a culture that did not make this a priority. This was confirmed on Sunday, April 2, 2023, when I was sharing with a close friend, who is a licensed mental health professional, and prayer warrior/intercessor, about some of the experiences I was having at work, and she responded, "You know that what you are describing is a toxic work environment right? Don't underestimate the effects of a toxic work environment on your mental health." On April 7th, 2023, Good Friday, I fell trying to step over a doggie gate. I broke my femur and had to have emergency surgery which resulted in a complete left hip replacement. Four weeks after my surgery, it became even more evident that the culture was conflicting with my values of empathy, compassion, and love. I had suspected that I was working in a corporate culture and not a ministry culture, and it became more and more evident. I had lost all trust and started experiencing the physiological reaction of fight or flight whenever I had to engage with certain people. It wasn't about a fear of someone causing me physical harm; it was the fear of being provoked for the purpose of causing me to respond in what would cause me to be perceived as a person who was difficult to work with or someone who was not who I had presented myself to be. I felt they were trying to create evidence and create a narrative that would present me in a negative way. I felt they wanted me to quit. I did not want to get ensnared by their trap. I didn't feel that I had an advocate. On May 23, 2023, I went to my doctor about it; my blood pressure was 133/88; I had not had any issues with high blood pressure prior to working on this job. After praying, having a discussion with my doctor, seeing a mental health professional, and talking with my leadership coach and some wise friends, I discerned that I needed to resign to preserve my mental health so that my physical health would not be hindered. After submitting a work-from-home plan on May 19th and it getting approved, I began working from home on May 22, 2023 however, I was still led to resign on May 24, 2023. When I texted my close friend, the mental health professional, prayer warrior, and intercessor, that I resigned, her text back to me was, "I am both sorry about how it ended, but also glad that it ended. Your health was literally at stake". Confirmation. My tears of joy had turned into tears from a broken heart. My dream had been deferred. Some may think, "Well, Joycelyn, you didn't need your job, so you could resign." The truth is, that I did need my job, but I need my mental and my physical health more, so I had to resign and trust God to provide during this season when I am not working. He can do it! If you are someone who has found yourself working in ministry, but the culture where you work is stressful. I pray that you will have the courage to speak up for yourself. If you fear retaliation, then I pray you have the courage to resign. It is not worth your mental and physical health. Stressful work environments cause mental health problems and physical illness. Do not forget to check out the Resource page and the Home page.

What’s happening to Rep. Nicole Collier in Texas is more than politics — it’s a prophetic mirror of how systems use power to silence those who stand. Because she refused to sign a “permission slip” and accept an assigned police escort, Collier has been restricted inside the Capitol. No crime committed. No law broken. Just new rules designed to box her in and control her movements. History tells us this pattern is not new. It echoes the days of slave patrols, when Black people were forced to carry papers for movement and faced intimidation if they resisted. Then it was called a pass. Now it’s called a permission slip. Different name, same spirit. This is why her courage matters. Whenever a woman — especially a Black woman — refuses to bow, she threatens the very structures built to contain her. That refusal is costly. It is not comfortable. But it is necessary. And it reminds us of a larger truth: unjust systems can invent rules, but they cannot cancel God’s assignment. What He ordains will not be undone by paper, policy, or police escort. So today we stand with Rep. Collier. We pray strength over her. And we take courage from her stand — because her fight is not hers alone, it is ours.