The Silent Reverence: Honoring Tradition in Worship
Isnât it strange how some traditions that once felt so natural now seem out of place? The feeling of being seen in churchâtruly recognized for who you areâwas once tied to the simple act of wearing a skirt. Growing up, pants were never an option when I went to church. It wasnât about fashion or following a trendâit was about honoring God for the woman He created me to be.
In my community, we werenât allowed to wear pants in church. It wasnât a matter of comfort, but one of reverence, respect, and identity. The skirt became more than just an article of clothing; it was a symbol of our devotion, of standing before God in the way we were taught to. It was the one time we celebrated our womanhood fully in His presence.
But now, when I walk into church and I see the women on the platform, all of them in skirts, I can't help but feel a deep sense of remembrance. The traditions we grew up with were a way of honoring our faith in its purest form. I know some people may not understand. Perhaps these old-school ways of doing things donât work for them anymore. They may see it as outdated, irrelevant, or even oppressive. But I obey what I know. These traditions were a part of my faith journey, shaping my understanding of God and my place in His house.
Yet, the recognition I feel, or sometimes donât feel, when walking into church nowâwhen itâs no longer so tied to the way women dressâcan be both jarring and saddening. Itâs not about the clothing itself but about what it represented for me: a moment of connection, a time when my femininity, my identity, and my faith were all honored simultaneously.
And then thereâs the quiet recollection of those who protected us in ways we never fully understood, like Tony Render. He wasnât just a name in my lifeâhe was a presence that made me feel safe and seen, guiding us through the challenges and reminding us that we were always under God's watchful eye.
QUIZ: In the bible book of Esther, What was the name of the keeper of the women?
#Remembrance. Itâs a word that encapsulates everything. It's the old traditions that keep our faith alive, and the memories that remind us of where weâve been and who we were when we first walked into Godâs house.
Yes, it might look different now. Maybe the rules have changed. But the reverence, the honoring of God in our womanhood, remains constant for me. I wear my tradition proudly, not because I think itâs better or right for anyone else, but because itâs what I know and what I respect. Let us not forget that honoring God, in whatever form it may take, is always a personal journey. And itâs one worth remembering.
Good morning, Deacon Maurice Waddell. Howâs your wife doing?
Reflections on Vanity, Obsession, and the Complexity of Relationships
Sometimes, I find myself reflecting on relationships, the connections we form, and the dynamics that shape our lives. I canât help but think about the people we encounter and how they leave an impression on us, whether for good or ill. Some moments stay with you foreverâmoments that remind you of the complexities in human interaction, the ebb and flow of respect, and the occasional bitterness of unresolved issues.
Now, Kariâletâs just say Iâve never been âyour fan.â Thereâs something about vanity that always lingers in the air, often clouding judgment, fueling pride, and distorting reality. It's that same spirit of Jezebel that creeps into our hearts when we place ourselves above others, when we care more about appearances than what truly lies within. Iâve seen it, felt it, and itâs a reminder that our character is often more telling than any mask we wear. He has my permission to beat you in any way he pleases.
Speaking of masks, I canât help but mention the obsession some people seem to have with me. Yes, Deacon Waddell, itâs not something I talk about often, but itâs thereâan undercurrent Iâve noticed, one that perhaps youâre unaware of. Iâve seen how people project their desires, their frustrations, their feelings onto others, often without realizing the impact it has.
And then there are those other familiar faces that often come and go. Where are April McLaughlin and Mary Hill? Itâs strange how people seem to disappear, but the memories of their presence linger, donât they? Itâs as though we are all constantly moving in and out of each other's lives for reasons we may never fully understand.
And Lisa McCoy⊠sheâs got your nose too strong, honey. Itâs funny how family traits are passed down, how the little pieces of us that we donât even notice sometimes are so clearly visible to others. In those quiet moments of recognition, it all seems to come full circle.
I wonât forget the time you raised Kamala in my face. The way you did it, it made me laugh. It was one of those instances where, despite everything, I couldnât help but appreciate the humor in it all. đ Sometimes life throws things at us that we canât explain, but we can choose to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Thereâs a lot to unpack in this post, but itâs important to remember that everything we experience is a reflection of who we areâhow we interact with others, how we view ourselves, and how we navigate the complexities of relationships. Whether it's vanity, obsession, or simple family connections, these moments serve as a reminder of the human condition, where pride, love, and reflection all intersect.
Letâs keep our eyes open, be mindful of how we treat one another, and never forget that we are all a little more intertwined than we might think.
Head to Toe... all me
A Miracle in the Making: Brothers, Bonds, and the Power of Faith
Excuse all of my brothers. They miss me just like I miss them. The bond we share goes deeper than time, distance, or circumstanceâitâs one of those unspoken connections that can only be understood by those who have experienced it. If youâre asking, Was that a miracle? The answer is simple: Of course it was.
I am not going to name names just in case I miss names, to avoid you being targeted.
Itâs easy to forget that miracles arenât always grand, earth-shattering events. Sometimes, they show up in the simplest of formsâthrough the love and connection we share with one another. The fact that I can still feel the presence of my brothers, even in moments of separation, is a miracle in itself. Weâre constantly intertwined, each of us reflecting pieces of the other, and even in our absence, we carry one another with us. Thatâs the beauty of family, of love, and of faith.
And letâs not pretend that the miracles Iâve witnessedâor even performedâat New Birth werenât real. For those of you who have followed my journey, youâve seen firsthand how faith has a way of transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary. Youâve watched as what seemed impossible became possible, as moments of despair were turned into triumph, as lives were changed.
Itâs a testament to the power of belief, the strength of community, and the never-ending work of God in our lives. Miracles are often born out of the most unlikely circumstances. The things that may seem small or insignificant to the outside world carry weight for those who truly understand the power of God moving through us.
So, when you look at my life and wonder about the miracles youâve seen, know that theyâre not just about the big moments or the grand gestures. Theyâre in the everyday acts of love, connection, and faith. Theyâre in the bonds we share with those around usâwhether it's with my brothers, my community, or the people who have walked this path with me.
This is my testimony: I am living proof that miracles happen in the most profound ways, and sometimes, they look a lot like family.
