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They Said I Was Selfish… I Said I’m Homesick!
- Retro Sonya
- Apr 11
- 21 min read
Dreaming of Heaven since the 80s…
while others skipped straight to the chorus! 💔
Hey, retro fans. I stumbled across a post today that hit me like a pulse of neon through a dark city street. It was about the loss of a baby, and where babies go when they die: straight back to God. Whole, safe, alive in His presence, growing up in heaven without pain, without storms, without the grind we call life.
And I thought… wouldn’t that be nice? No suffering. No forging through fire. No sickness. Just instant access to heaven, to the radiant presence of God: a place I’ve been dreaming about since my childhood. Picture this:
Dreaming of other worlds and far-away places as a young girl. Pure adventure. Full of dreams. A spark of hope for a brighter future. A destiny forged!
As a teen, lying on the hood of the car at night, eyes on the stars, Enya playing in the background, whispering to myself: “When will I get to see heaven?”
Fast forward to adulthood, I’m still here, walking through storms, facing stronger battles, demons, heartbreak, and the weight of a world that doesn’t make sense.
Meanwhile, these babies? They go straight into His arms. Face-to-face with Jesus. Free from pain. Free from struggle.
And me? Sometimes I wonder why I'm forced to live in a body that's broken. Meanwhile, someone else gets to grow up in heaven. Awww man! My heart is so heavy right now. 😩💔
What benefit do we gain from growing up in this broken world? And now I feel so tainted by it. I suffered so much. This body has been through hell. Spiritual wounds in my soul by this world through rejection and abandonment hurt.
Why do I have to endure all this? Doesn’t seem fair, does it? And if you’ve ever felt that same ache, the longing for a place beyond the neon glow of this broken world, then stick with me. I’m about to spill the beans (and the milk, too).
🌠 Level One: Childhood, Joystick Dreams, & Neon Skies!
Alright, retro crew… buckle up. We’re rewinding the tape back to a time when life felt like a side-scrolling adventure, and I was just a 4th-grade kid, 9-years-old; with a joystick heart and a head full of galaxies. 🎮✨
I didn’t have all answers, but I did have imagination. And honestly? That was my go-to. My superpower!
School? Total routine mode. Same hallway, same desks, same “sit down and be quiet” energy. But the moment that final bell rang, I was gone, mentally teleporting into worlds way bigger than the one I was stuck in. I had my cartoons, my storybooks, my toys… and whole universes I built from scratch to distract me from the harsh reality of this world. I even brought my younger brothers into it. Every day was a new episode. Every backyard was a different planet. That's how I illustrated my world. That's how I envisioned my adventures!
Adventure wasn’t something I waited for. I generated it. I wrote about it like a human arcade machine running on pure wonder. 🕹️ But even in all that creativity, there was this quiet signal underneath it all… like a frequency I couldn’t quite tune out.
Because the real world? Yeah, it hit different.
There were voices, dark ones... telling me I wasn’t enough.
There were kids at school who made sure I felt it too.
There was this cold, gray layer over everything that no amount of imagination could fully erase.
The harsh reality that we're all gonna die someday? Yeah, that hit hard!
I remember just asking myself the question... what is the point of living life if we're all gonna die in the end? It was the first time in my life that I realized, that's where my hope was... if it were in the world only. If only there were more to hope for than all of this. It was the type of sadness no child should ever have to face. And my imagination was how I coped.
And even as a kid, I knew it: This can’t be it.
I remember feeling it deep in my spirit, like I was missing out on something massive. Something beautiful. Like there was another world just out of reach… brighter, fuller, alive in a way this one wasn’t.
I didn’t have the language for it yet. I just knew I wanted to step into it.
Then life cranked the difficulty setting way up. My mom and stepdad’s divorce hit like a glitch in the system, sudden, chaotic, breaking everything familiar. And just like that, we were dropped into a new level: poverty, instability, and survival mode.
No power-ups. No cheat codes. Just endurance.
And in the middle of all that? That longing didn’t fade. It got louder.
Because while everything around me was falling apart, something inside me was still reaching, still dreaming of a place untouched by chaos. A place where I could finally breathe. A place where I belonged. No more sting of death. No more sorrow. Just pure everlasting joy and dreams realized!
I didn’t understand it then, but that “other world” I kept searching for… Was heaven calling me home. 🌌
Not as an escape. But as a promise.
A whisper through the static of a broken world:
“There’s more than this.”
🌌 Level Two: Teen Years, Boss Battles, & Heavenly Frequencies!
Alright, player two… we just leveled up.
Welcome to the teenage years, where the soundtrack gets deeper, the nights get longer, and the battles? Yeah… they hit like a final boss with unlimited health bars. 🎮⚡
Picture this.
It’s late. The sky stretches out like velvet, dark and endless, stitched together with stars glowing like pixel lights from an old-school arcade. An Enya track drifts through the air, soft, otherworldly, like synth pads from heaven itself.
And there I am… lying still, staring up, dreaming, and writing songs about it!
Dreaming of heaven.
Streets of gold.
Angels singing.
Peace that doesn’t break.
Because down here?
Different story.
This wasn’t some easy side quest. This was survival mode.
Rejection.
Sickness.
Financial pressure.
Spiritual warfare.
And whispers... constant, heavy whispers telling me I wasn’t enough.
And the slow physical death you know that you are on your way to.
Life felt less like a peaceful journey and more like the final level of a brutal retro game.
Yeah. That was my story. But here’s where everything flips. Because right in the middle of the chaos… Jesus stepped in like the ultimate Hero. ✨
I was in beginning of my roaring teenage years and felt the pressures of the world weighing on my shoulders. But that didn't stop me from dreaming. That didn't stop me from having faith. It pushed me towards it.
I started praying constantly. Morning. Walking to school. Sitting in class. Lunch. Walking home. Lying in bed at night. It became my lifeline, my connection to something beyond the static of this world.
And then… something happened I never expected. One morning, I woke up and began to pray as usual. And suddenly... He spoke. Clear. Personal. He called me by my name… and told me He loved me.
"Sonya, I love you!" I froze.
No script. No warning. No “this only happens to other people.”
Just me… and the voice of God breaking through the noise.
I didn’t even know what to say. I was stunned.
But I knew one thing in that moment:
He heard me. He was there.
He hears. He sees. He knows my name.
And He knows yours, too. So keep praying. Even when it feels quiet. Even when it feels unfair. Because heaven isn’t just a place you wait for… Sometimes, it reaches back.
What did the voice of Jesus sound like? Kind of like this:
And then came another moment... straight out of nowhere.
Picture this: It's 1998, and I’m riding my BMX home from summer school, talking to God about one of my teenage fears. You know the kind, completely dramatic, slightly ridiculous, but very real at the time. I’m imagining myself older, overweight, wearing some wild opera outfit like I just walked out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon, singing with a jiggly double chin. 🎭
And then... God laughed. Not at me. With me.
And He said, plain as day: “You’re still growing.”
I almost fell off my bike. I wasn’t ready for that. I was physically shaken. Not by the humor. Not by the gentleness. Not by the fact that He cared about something that small. It was the autible voice of God speaking, as plain as day! I felt it! I HEARD it!! And I laughed too, because suddenly, heaven didn’t feel far away anymore. It felt… close. Like it was bleeding into my world in small, radient moments.
And that changed everything. I started longing for Heaven even more, to be in His presence. Not just as a distant dream, but as something real. To hear God speak to me like that reveals his character. How much more does he hear our cries? That's a piece of his heart, right there. And I want you to know it too.
Now, it didn't stop there. Let's talk about another incredible moment!
There was this boy I was friends with. His name was Johnny. He lived across the street from me. Blue eyes, curly brown hair, 80s mullet style, a baggy pants wearing 14-year-old. Someone I genuinely cared for, even if I didn’t go broadcasting it. So I prayed for him. Hard. That God would save him. Redeem him. That I’d see him standing with Jesus. And one day… God answered.
He spoke again: “It shall be done.”
I felt it! I lit up like a neon skyline. 🌆✨
I thanked Him over and over. I was overwhelmed, physically moved by something deeper than emotion. This wasn’t imagination. This was real. I even told my friend later. He gave me the side eye and that classic response: “Really? That’s very interesting.”
Yeah… maybe he didn’t fully believe it back then. But something tells me, years later? He gets it now. Because after all of that, one truth locked in for me:
God is with me. And He hears me. And he genuinely cares about the ones we love. So never give up praying for them!
What I experienced wasn’t just comfort. It was a preview. A glimpse behind the curtain. A taste of heaven. So yeah… I kept listening to my Enya tracks under the stars. Kept dreaming. Kept longing. But now it was different. Because I knew that place was real.
And even though I didn’t have much in this world… what I received from God?
You couldn’t put a price on it.
That’s when the ache for heaven didn’t just stay, it amplified. Like a signal getting stronger. Like a beacon calling me home. 🌌
Longing for Heaven: When This World’s Fire Feels Unfair!
Some people seem to slip quietly into eternity with barely a scar. They never tasted the deep ache of abandonment, the sting of abuse, or the nightly sickness that comes from a world that feels filthy, empty, and cruel. For the rest of us, the fire of this life burns hot and long... it can feel profoundly unfair.
I grew up carrying wounds most people never see. Facing rejection and abandonment, watching my mother cycle through abusive relationships, becoming a victim myself, and battling crushing fear, anxiety, and self-harm born from feeling utterly worthless. The world offered nothing that could fill the void. It left me sick to my stomach every night, chasing love and beauty standards I could never measure up to.
Even after I first cried out to God as a young teen and heard His voice say, “Sonya, I love you,” the road didn’t suddenly become easy. I still had to walk through confusion, demonic oppression, and the weight of a broken world. I longed for something better, brighter, more whole... a better world than the one I’d known.
When I finally received the full experience of salvation: repentance, baptism in Jesus’ name, and the infilling of the Holy Ghost. Everything changed. The fear and depression lifted. I was flooded with a love I had desperately searched for in all the wrong places. And for the first time, I was given real hope beyond the grave. Now, that's what I call a taste of heaven!
Yet even in that joy, the ache for Heaven remains: Why do some get to go Home with so little suffering, while others endure years of refining fire? It doesn’t always feel fair. The world is still old, dirty, and heavy at times. But that very longing... that deep homesickness for a place where every tear is wiped away is what fuels songs like “Lord, I Need Your Love.”
This track came straight out of my teenage heartbreak and loneliness. It’s a raw, 7-minute electronica prayer set against nostalgic synths, admitting the pain while clinging to the only One who can truly pull us through.
In the end, my testimony isn’t about polishing up the suffering or pretending the unfairness doesn’t sting. It’s about this truth: the fire of this world, as brutal as it feels, drove me straight into the arms of a God who meets us in the flames and promises something far better on the other side.
A hope beyond the grave. A joy no one can steal. And a neon-lit longing for the day we finally step into the Kingdom where the fire is over... and perfect love remains forever.
Jesus showed up like the ultimate hero of the story.
Level 3: Adulthood, 🔥 Forged in Fire, and longing for heaven!
Let’s fast-forward the tape and walk through adulthood and how this battle unfolded.
Some battles aren’t fought with fists, they’re fought in your mind, in the dark hours, in the spaces where lies creep in like glitches in the system.
For years, I wrestled with something brutal: the spirit of rejection.
It didn’t start with midnight demons or whispered threats. It started with lies.
Lies about my appearance.
Lies about my acceptance with God.
Lies about my worth.
I was told: (("You're too common and nothing special")), as they mocked for my one melanin-rich feature. I was told I wasn't standard enough, not smart enough, not rare enough. I was told that my dreams were 'unrealistic' while others got all the recognition for being 'their kind of different', for having the same dream I had... like they’d unlocked a cheat code in life. Those words didn’t just sting, they downloaded themselves into my system, rewiring how I saw myself.
And once I started agreeing with them… the enemy had a foothold.
The rejection burrowed deep.
Self-hatred.
Envy.
Bitterness.
Despair. Total game-over vibes. But at the time, it felt real.
Then came the midnight battles, the nights when reality glitched.
Hypnic jerks and sleep paralysis shaking me awake.
Terrifying voices echoing insults I’d carried since childhood.
Whispering that I belonged to darkness.
That I wasn’t enough.
That God had abandoned me.
And one night… I leveled up. I stood in my living room, pointed at the presence that tried to claim me, and declared:
“Lord, I belong to You. Not to that.”
That wasn’t just a line of code. That was authority. That was faith in action. Spiritual warfare is real. Authority in Christ is real too.
But here’s the kicker:
Sometimes the enemy doesn’t even need to defeat you. He just needs you to agree with his lies.
For years, I did. Rejection. Envy. Self-hatred. That gave him access to me.
Then the Holy Spirit hit me with a brutal but loving truth:
He absolutely adored me! But my attitude had become a stench.
Ouch! 😖
Not condemnation. A call to rise higher.
So I took heed, changed my attitude. Broke the agreement. I renounced the lies. Rejected the hatred. Confessed that God loves even the people the enemy was trying to set me against. And slowly, over 5 long years, the stronghold began to crack.
Then life cranked the difficulty to maximum:
Illness.
Body changes.
Financial disasters.
Watching loved ones struggle with addiction.
Seeing my home and savings evaporate.
A move to a new town.
Through it all, the enemy whispered his same old lie: ((“God has rejected you.")), but did Jesus say that? 🤔 Well... I already know the answer, then, don't I?
Here’s the neon truth: I remembered the teenager I was when Jesus called my name and told me He loved me. I remember when he filled me with the Baptism of the Holy Ghost for the first time, when I was 18-years-old.
And I realized something huge: All of this, every storm, every heartbreak, every sickness, is gold being tried in the fire. 🔥Every trial is pruning, refining, shaping me into a vessel strong enough to say:
No matter what life throws at me, my circumstances do not dictate my relationship with God. No matter what storms rage, I will worship Him.
Just like the woman who touched the hem of His garment, my worship isn’t about my comfort. It’s about His worth. It’s about trusting Him when the world glitches. It’s about standing in the fire and singing anyway.
That’s why I long for heaven, not as an escape, but because I know this refining fire is creating something eternal. Something unbroken. Something perfected. Something worth every battle.
Even now, the fight rages. But my worship doesn’t stop. Because He is worthy. Always. ✨
🦁 Neon Truth in the Lion’s Den: When I Thought God Loved Them More!
Here’s the thing about the devil.
He always tries to convince you of the opposite of what God already said.
✝ God called me by my name and told me that he loved me.
👹 The enemy told me I was rejected.
✝ God says I am accepted in the beloved.
👹 The enemy says, "You’re cursed".
✝ God says I'm chosen.
👹 The enemy says, "You’re worthless".
✝ God says I am of immeasurable worth!
There was a moment, raw, unfiltered, no neon glow to soften it, where I said something that felt true: “God must love those babies more than me.”
I mean… look at it from the outside. They get heaven. No suffering. No sickness. No rejection. Just heaven, eternal joy, and being in the presence of God.
And me? Still here. Still fighting. Still in a body that's broken.
Extreme sadness. shattered dreams. Disease. Poverty and disappointment. Not recognizing the person in the mirror anymore. Yeah… that thought hit hard. And that lie almost became my reality. That idea didn’t come out of nowhere. It came from trying to make sense of pain.
Because when life doesn’t feel fair, your mind starts building explanations:
They’re more loved.
I’m less favored.
Something about me must be… less.
That’s the kind of thinking that sneaks in quietly… then starts rewriting everything.
Totally glitchy logic... but when you’re hurting, it feels convincing.
🦁 Now, enter the story of Daniel, the plot twist I didn’t see coming!
When I thought long and hard about Daniel's situation, suddenly, the whole narrative flips over on its head. Let’s talk about his life for a second:
Kidnapped from his homeland,
Forced into captivity,
Stripped of a normal future,
Physically castrated,
Denied family and legacy,
Threatened for his faith,
Thrown into a lion’s den!
If anyone could’ve said, “God must not love me much…” It would’ve been him.
But that’s not what happened. And here is where the lie gets shattered.
In the middle of all that hardship, something wild happens.
The angel Gabriel shows up with a message straight from heaven quoting one of the most powerful lines from Book of Daniel 10:19:
“O man greatly beloved, fear not: peace be unto thee, be strong, yea, be strong.”
Not barely holding on. Not second-tier. Not forgotten. Greatly. Loved and favored. Cue the record scratch. 🎧⚡
And then comes the rhythm of strength, repeated like a heartbeat:
“Be strong… yea, be strong.”
💥 The system error or worldly logic has failed once again!
Because if love = ease… Daniel should’ve been at the bottom of the list.
But heaven said the exact opposite. That’s when it hit me:
God’s love is not measured by your life's ease.
That thought I had?
“God loves them more than me…”
Yeah… that didn’t survive contact with truth. It's just the world’s broken scoreboard at it again.
The world runs on a scoreboard that looks like this:
Healthy body = winning
Marriage + kids = success
Easy life = favored
But that system? Corrupted. Outdated. Running on bad code. Because it completely misses what God is actually looking at. Because Heaven’s metric is different.
God isn’t measuring:
How painless your life is,
How many boxes you checked,
How “ideal” your circumstances look,
He’s looking at something deeper. The heart. And that means your worth doesn’t drop just because your life got harder. That's the truth that broke the chain!
The moment I realized this, something shifted:
I’m not less loved because I’ve suffered. I’m not forgotten because life didn’t go smoothly. I’m not behind because my story looks different.
That lie lost its grip. And in its place came something stronger:
I am loved... right here, in the middle of it.
Daniel didn’t need perfect circumstances to be called beloved. And neither do I.
And neither do you. Because God’s love doesn’t rise and fall with your situation.
It stays. Constant. Unshaken. Like a neon light that refuses to flicker, even in the darkest night. 🌃✨
🌌 Holy Homesickness: Longing for the Real!
Some people would call it a selfish dream: the idea of skipping straight to heaven like the babies do. A shortcut, an escape from life’s grind. But let’s be real: that longing isn’t selfish. It’s your heart tuned to eternity, glowing in the dark like neon lights on a rainy city street. 🌃✨
Have you ever wondered about Christians who never seem to ache for a better world? The ones who never groan inwardly, never whisper in the night, “I want far better than this”? Is that really the norm, or are they missing something?
Scripture tells us otherwise. Paul openly wrestled with it, saying leaving this life to be with Christ is “far better” (Philippians 1:23).
Hebrews 11:16 reminds us the faithful longed for a heavenly country. Jesus taught us to pray, “Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10), we were made to ache for the day when sin, suffering, and death are gone. 💫
This longing isn’t escapism, it’s alignment. It’s a signal that you remember who you really are, and where you really belong. C.S. Lewis called it our “deep, unquiet desire for home.” Earth feels off, broken, incomplete. That tug for heaven? That’s holy homesickness.
So why the Christians who don’t seem to long? Could be:
Deep contentment in God’s presence here: their “already” fills them, even as the “not yet” waits.
Over-attachment to this world: wrapped up in comfort, success, or distraction (2 Timothy 4:10, 1 John 2:15).
Different focus on the new earth: some dream of redeemed creation more than instant heaven.
Your longing? Biblical. Honest. Prophetic. Babies go straight there because of mercy; you wrestle, endure, and worship through fire, building a testimony that echoes forever. Both glorify God, just in different ways. 🔥
Keep your neon-lit homesickness alive, neon-warriors. It’s pulling you toward the real, toward eternity, toward Him.
🌟 Forged Light: The Song Angels Cannot Sing!
Through all of this, one dream never left me. Heaven. Ever since I was a child dreaming of other worlds and far away places, and a teenager lying under the stars listening to Enya, I imagined angels singing worship songs and dancing on streets of gold. I wanted to be where the angels are.
No sickness.
No rejection.
No suffering.
Just joy.
An honest question I've asked, and I know I'm not the only one either. You ever wonder... why is it that babies never get tested in order to be made with perfection... from the beginning of their lives, they get to grow up in Heaven.
Sometimes I wondered why babies get a straight ticket there while the rest of us fight through the trenches. It didn’t feel fair.
They get to rest in the presence of God, in complete peace, in complete joy, in complete perfection! They don't just experience it as we do on Earth, they live in it. Their perfection is already complete in Heaven. So why? Why do I have to suffer to reach the perfection that God wants? Why is this necessary for me? When it could have been automatically granted? What good could possibly come out of this? I don't understand!
But then I realized something.
Heaven isn’t just a destination. It’s the home we’re being prepared for.
And every battle I fought made my praise deeper.
Here’s the wild twist in the story.
All that suffering? God didn’t waste it.
Here's what Scripture highlights about those gains, to honor the depth of what you endured and what God is forming in you:
It produces perseverance, character, and unshakable hope. Romans 5:3-5 says we can even "glory" (or rejoice) in sufferings because they produce perseverance; perseverance builds character; and character produces hope, a hope that doesn't disappoint because God's love is poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit. That chain isn't automatic for everyone, but you've lived it. Your faith has been tested in fire, and it's come out stronger, more refined, more reliant on Him.
It matures us, making us complete and lacking nothing. James 1:2-4 urges us to "consider it pure joy" when facing trials of many kinds, because the testing of faith produces perseverance, and if we let perseverance finish its work, we become mature and complete. Growing up here, enduring what you have, shapes a depth of soul that simple innocence doesn't touch. It's like training for eternity in a way that glorifies God uniquely through your story.
It conforms us to the image of Christ. Jesus learned obedience through suffering (Hebrews 5:8), and we're called to share in His sufferings to know Him more deeply (Philippians 3:10). Your spiritual wounds, the battles you've fought, they've pressed you closer to His heart, taught you dependence, humility, and compassion in ways a direct ticket to heaven might not forge. God uses it to kill sin, grow godliness, and prepare us to be the radiant bride of Christ.
It equips us to comfort others with the comfort we've received. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 calls God the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in our troubles so we can comfort others. Your pain isn't wasted; it becomes a ministry. People who've been through hell like you have can reach others in ways untouched hearts can't.
Scripture explains the process in Epistle to the Romans 5:3-5.
Suffering produces perseverance.
Perseverance produces character.
Character produces hope.
And hope does not disappoint. My faith got forged in fire. Not cute Sunday-school faith.
Battle-tested faith. The kind that says:
Now that’s radical.
Think about it… babies go straight to heaven. 🌌They never face the storms. They never wrestle through the night. They never have to fight the whispers of lies, the ache of loss, the weight of pain, the gnawing questions about their worth. And that’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong.
But there’s something unusual, something almost impossible to manufacture, that comes from walking through the fire. 🔥
The forging is what brings out the purity. Not a fake purity. Not a purity handed to you on a silver platter. But a purity refined by God, tested in the crucible of life, sharpened by grief, trial, and temptation.
And here’s the kicker: that purity allows you to sing a song the angels cannot sing. 🎶A song of victory born from scars. A melody stitched from nights when hope seemed dead, yet faith whispered, “Hold on.”
Not prideful. Not boasting. But honest recognition: God didn’t just save me, He allowed me to be made holy in the fire.
There’s something sacred about having your faith tested, and then discovering the test is really a test of your love. Because when your love for God outlasts the pain, the betrayal, the sickness, the storms… that proves, once and for all, what your commitment is made of.
And here’s the treasure: the world sees it.
🌃✨Your perseverance, your worship through chaos, your unshakable trust in the middle of suffering… it shines like neon in the darkness. It’s a light only someone forged in fire can give.
A light God puts in you, not for strutting, not for ego, but for the glory of God and His kingdom.
So when you look at angels, or babies who skipped the pain… don’t envy. Rejoice that you get to walk through the fire, and in doing so, produce a song, a purity, and a light that heaven itself pauses to watch.
Because that, my friend… is of real, eternal value. 🌟
🔥 Final Thoughts: The Fire That Shapes Us
Here’s the truth every born-again believer needs to lock into their heart: don’t compare your journey to anyone else’s. 🌌
Some have never walked through the fire. Some have been spared the storms, the
heartbreak, the battles. And that’s okay. God calls each of us differently. He crafts every path with a unique blueprint, a unique mission, a unique glory.
That’s why arrogance, or envy, has no place here. Your fire, your scars, your victories… they belong to you. They are yours to steward, yours to shine. And just because someone else hasn’t faced the same trial doesn’t diminish your gift, nor should it make you resentful of theirs.
Because here’s the neon-truth: the fire equips you with things others simply can’t get otherwise. 🔥✨
People see the anointing. They see the beauty that blooms from brokenness. They see the strength, the light, the songs forged in nights of tears and trials. And they want it. But are they willing to walk through the flames you walked through in order to acquire it? Are they ready to be broken, to face demons, to push through storms that feel impossible?
Some things, the deepest purity, the most unusual light, the songs only a heart forged in fire can sing, are not just given. They are forged in the crucible of life.
So, don’t envy. Don’t despair. Don’t compare. Own your fire. Embrace your refining. Shine your light.
God isn't punishing you by letting you grow up here; He's trusting you with something sacred: the chance to become like Jesus in the crucible, to bear His image in a broken world, and to arrive in heaven not as an untouched child, but as a battle-tested, deeply loved daughter or son who's proven faithful. He loves you more than anything, that's not just words; I've experienced it.
The longing hurts because it's real. But it's also proof your heart is already tuned to eternity. One day soon, the unfairness fades, the pain ends, and you'll be where the angels sing, in your perfect form, souring with wings as eagles, whole, with Him. Until then, step into the storm with faith.
🎮Worship through the fire.
Trust God when the world glitches, when the lies scream, when the night feels endless.
Because the longer you walk through it, the brighter your light becomes, and the stronger your song grows, one that heaven itself pauses to hear.
Your fire is not a curse. It’s your neon-lit badge of glory, your proof that God is shaping something eternal in you. 🌟
If you like what I do:
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Stay radical. Stay faithful. And keep fighting the good fight. ✨
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