When Tears Become Testimony

When Tears Become Testimony

There are days when life cuts deeper than words, and the only language left is tears. Today, I wept. Not because I am weak, but because I have carried weight that was never meant to be mine alone.

The rejection, the betrayal, the unspoken battles—it all tried to silence me. But even in my breaking, I remembered: God is still near to the brokenhearted.

Like Job, I cried out in raw honesty. Like David, I laid bare my lament. Yet through the heaviness, something sacred rose—a decree:

I am not what they said. I am not the lies. I am not forgotten.

I am covered. I am chosen. I am still rising.

This is not the end of my story; this is the unveiling of His glory. My tears are not wasted. They are watering the soil of testimony. And when this season gives birth, it will not just be for me—it will be for every person who ever wondered if God still saw them in the shadows.

Beloved, He sees. And He covers. Even here. Even now.

Scripture to Hold:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18

Here is a glimpse of my journal today..I shared it with Facebook and Instagram..feeling heavy heavy today yall..oh i included the FB caption before my journal "cry" as well

Hey Fam.. I’m feeling a bit weighed today.. and my thoughts and feelings are not strong at all.. although I am being blessed..the tug of war still rises and yet, I choose to remain steadfast . And NOOO it is not easy. However, this strength that I am praying for today is NOT of my own.. it’s strictly from GOD. so I will be transparent and share my journal today. I pray that it helps someone that may be feeling like giving up the fight as well

Cry of the Soul

O God, my chest is heavy with questions.

My eyes are rivers and my bones feel hollow.

You call me chosen, yet the choosing has cost me peace.

You call me anointed, yet the oil burns when it flows.

I have not cursed You, yet I have whispered, “Are You cruel?”

For the weight of this assignment feels like shackles,

and the joy I once carried now feels caged.

Have You seen me, Lord?

Or am I hidden in the shadows while the wicked dance in sunlight?

Do You keep record of these tears, or do they fall wasted into the dirt?

I am tired of warfare. Tired of smiling with cracked lips.

Tired of carrying promises that feel like stones in my belly.

Even Your Son cried out, “Why have You forsaken Me?”

So I too will not pretend. I will not dress my anguish in holy platitudes.

I feel forsaken. I feel bruised. I feel undone.

And yet… here I am—still speaking to You, still refusing silence.

⸻

Turning Point

But let the heavens record this:

I will not die in this lament.

I will not drown in my despair.

Though I wrestle, though I break, though I stagger under Your hand,

I will rise again—

not because I am strong,

but because You are still God.

I decree that this pain will preach louder than my comfort.

I decree that this weight will sculpt me into steel.

I decree that my scars will glow like lanterns for the lost.

What Satan meant as a noose will become a crown.

What feels like cruelty will reveal itself as covenant.

What seems like silence will thunder as strategy.

⸻

Final Decree

So let it be known in every realm—

I may crawl, but I will not quit.

I may cry, but I will not curse.

I may question, but I will not turn.

This voice will still roar.

This scribe will still write.

This daughter will still rise.

And when I rise, it will not be timid.

It will not be half-hearted.

It will not be silent.

It will be glory.

It will be fire.

It will be God.