Authenticity

I like to share the gospel in unconventional ways. I love authenticity—so when it comes to sharing my faith, I strive to be genuine and Spirit-led. If the timing feels off or the vibe feels forced, I won’t bring it up. I’d hate to feed into the opposite of what God desires to do within someone’s heart.

When I sense something deeper about a person—like God is nudging me to sow a seed—I pray something like this:

“Lord, if it’s Your will for me to sow a seed in this person’s life, open the door. Create the opportunity, so that what I share isn’t just my opinion, but a word truly received by them.”

In that moment, I place their soul entirely in God’s hands, and I take my rightful place—as a vessel, a bona fide assistant to the Lord.

I’m what people today might call a “spiritual girl,” but not in a New Age sense—in a Holy Spirit sense. I like to be led by the Spirit because that’s what makes it real. I’m surrendered to His flow and guidance, even when it doesn’t make sense to me or align with what feels comfortable.

That’s how it’s meant to be. But this authentic walk—the one rooted in grace and truth—threatens the enemy of our souls. Here’s a little secret he’d hate for you to know:
One of his most effective weapons against our faith is religion—religious systems and religious people.

When I talk to non-believers and ask why they’ve never tried Christianity—or why they left it—the answer is often the same: it’s because of how it was portrayed through people or systems. Unrealistic expectations. Judgment. Condemnation. All man-made—not God-ordained.

For many, those systems and people are the closest thing to “God” they’ve ever experienced. So when they find that, within those constructs, they’ll never measure up, it’s no wonder they run—far and fast.

The enemy is strategic. He disguises himself in spaces meant to be loving and welcoming, twisting them into something that pushes people away from the very One who can heal them.

And he doesn’t just push people away—he also deceives many within. When religion becomes about outward appearances, people can be led to believe they’re fine as long as they “look” righteous. But Scripture reminds us:

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23)

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” (Ephesians 2:8–9)

I lived under that false sense of salvation for a long time. I thought as long as I went to church, I’d be fine—when in reality, I was dying spiritually.

Back in college, I’d stay out all night partying, stumble home drunk at dawn, nap for a couple of hours, and still show up to church. Deep down, I knew my lifestyle grieved God, but I convinced myself that as long as I went to church, He was okay with me.

It took a global pandemic for me to realize what Christianity truly is—a personal relationship with God, not a performance of religion. When churches closed, I couldn’t run to a building. I had to run to Him. And in doing so, He revealed the error of my ways. That’s when religion lost its grip on me.

Today marks 666 days since my last drink.
No, I wasn’t an addict—just a girl who liked to party. But it’s no coincidence this message comes exactly 666 days later. In Scripture, that number represents the flesh—humanity’s sinfulness. On my 25th birthday, lying drunk on a hotel couch, I said, “No more.” That day, I put my flesh to death. And here I am—666 days later—alive, free, and sober. God is good.

I share all this because true healing and deliverance come only through relationship with God. Nothing we say or do can save us—only choosing to love and live for Him. We will stumble. We will fall short. But thank God—our salvation doesn’t rest on our perfection; it rests on our faith in Jesus Christ.

I believe in living out what you believe—but for a long time, I didn’t. What I did do was keep seeking His face, asking for forgiveness, getting back up, and reminding myself of the woman I wanted to become. I’m still not “there.” But I’m still seeking God.

Religion will tell you to get cleaned up before you come to God.
But the Spirit of God says, “Come to Me first—and I’ll do the cleaning.”

God doesn’t desire for you to become something you’re incapable of being on your own.
He simply desires your willingness—your heart that says yes to Him, even after you’ve fallen, no matter how many times or how hard the fall.

That’s where true freedom begins.

God showed me a dream to go along with this message—but this post is long enough. I’ll share that one next time.