For me, I was addicted to self-pleasing behaviors—porn and masturbation—and the sad part is, I didn’t even know it was a sin at the time. Even after I became a Christian, I convinced myself that because I wasn’t harming anyone else, it must be okay. I think a lot of us believe that when we don’t know Christ the way we were created to know Him. But while I wasn’t hurting anyone else, I was harming myself. Deep down, I knew what I was doing was wrong because guilt always lingered, yet the pleasure and the high were strong enough for me to ignore it. I began to crave desires meant for marriage, but because I didn’t know the Lord—or the gifts He created specifically for marriage—I didn’t understand that yet.

It started as an occasional mood booster, like most addictions do, and slowly became something I chased constantly—morning, night, and sometimes in between. This was not a small struggle. It lasted for years, and it progressed.

I knew internally it was wrong. It made me feel dirty. I constantly wondered, “How is your husband ever going to please you?” because I had convinced myself that a man could never satisfy me the way I could satisfy myself. I also believed I was broken, because the only way I could reach orgasm was with vibrating toys. I built this idea of adulthood around the belief that if I didn’t please myself, I would never be pleased.

Clearly, I needed Jesus. And I needed to learn that I shouldn’t desire these things outside of what God created them for. They had become an idol. I placed unrealistic expectations on a husband I haven’t even met yet, and I developed the mindset that my body existed only for my own pleasure—and in a very unhealthy way.

Ephesians 4:22 says, “Throw off your old sinful nature and your former way of life, which is corrupted by lust and deception.” I didn’t understand that verse until I finally told that fleshly desire goodbye.

Shortly after submitting my life to Christ, the conviction came—and it came fast. I started recognizing sins I had never realized were sins. Porn and masturbation were the first things God pulled from me. I honestly didn’t even notice they were gone until temptation tried creeping back in.

In those moments, I thought about Jesus—how He sees everything I do—and suddenly I couldn’t go through with it anymore. I felt ashamed that the God who created me could see how desperate I was to feel loved or to participate in the “sexual tendencies” that the world glorifies. I was ashamed of how deeply I desired that part of a relationship and how pathetic I felt for not having one.

This one struggle shaped my worldview more than I realized. Instead of desiring a family or preparing myself for marriage, I hardened a part of my heart and threw myself into creating a career I’m not even sure I’ll want forever. I love my job, and I’m thankful I get to do it every single day—but if God ever opened the door for marriage and motherhood, I would choose that in a heartbeat. 

Now I’m having to work through the walls I built. Whenever someone shows interest, I pull back. Just when I think I might let someone in, I reinforce another barrier because I’ve convinced myself, “I don’t need anyone. I’m fine alone. I can’t hurt myself. I don’t trust them. I am only responsible for me.” I’ve never allowed myself a fair chance to love someone the way God created me to.

I don’t know if marriage is in God’s plan for me, but if it is, then I have to be willing to let those walls crumble and trust Him with that part of my heart.

I was fortunate that God freed me from the addiction itself quickly once I chose Him. But even now—almost two years later—I still owned the toys I had depended on for so long.

You would think throwing them away would be easy, but I had so much shame surrounding them that I just kept them locked away, hidden in a box. I didn’t know how to dispose of them without feeling embarrassed.

Yesterday, I felt a strong urgency to get rid of them for good. The ones I could safely burn, I did—though it definitely wasn’t the safest idea. (I was outside, so don’t worry too much.) The electronic ones I wrapped discreetly and threw away before I could overthink it. Truthfully, if someone found them and somehow knew they were mine, so be it. They were mine. And just like any other garbage, they deserved to be thrown out. As I dropped them in the dumpster, I felt a weight tear away from me. This is a new beginning. A new chapter in becoming who God truly wants me to be.
When I burned the others, a thick, indescribable black smoke poured out so quickly—something I’d never seen before. After researching, I realized how toxic those materials are. In that moment, it felt symbolic, like watching the enemy be cast out of my life.

That part of me is gone.
The enemy no longer holds what I once ran to.
Even when temptation comes, the tools of the sin are gone.

God expects us to call our bodies into submission. He expects us to use our free will to choose Him.

Paul writes in Philippians 4:8, “And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.”

And in 1 Corinthians 6:18–20 he says, “Run from sexual sin! No other sin so clearly affects the body as this one does. For sexual immorality is a sin against your own body.  Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself,  for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body.” 

Maybe I should have started with that context, but it ties everything together. When we pause and listen to who God is and what He is saying, our worldview shifts. Our purpose becomes clearer. Everything changes.

For two years, I’ve been able to abstain from sexual sin and from dishonoring my future husband by pleasing my own body. Now I know what it really means to save myself for marriage—to desire a partner to lean on, to be someone’s helpmate.

I want to trust someone else. I want to be responsible not just for myself, but for the family we create. I want to experience intimacy the way God designed it—to be fulfilled by my husband, not by a battery-powered substitute. I want to trust him with that part of my heart and trust God with this breakthrough.

But even more than that, I want to fully surrender myself to my Savior and honor Him with my body. I don’t want anything more than I want a relationship with Him. My joy comes from the Lord. My happiness is Jesus. My desires are fulfilled by God. Anything else He gives me is an undeserved blessing.

Do you have something you need to fully surrender to God?

Is there anything from your past that you know it’s time to release?
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Father,
Thank You for being a God who sees every part of us and still calls us Yours. Thank You for the grace that meets us in the places we feel most ashamed and for the strength that helps us walk away from what once held us captive.
Lord, teach us to surrender the things we cling to—the desires, the habits, the fears, and the walls we’ve built for protection. Help us trust that when You ask us to let go, it’s because You are leading us into freedom.
Search our hearts, God. Reveal anything in us that keeps us from honoring You with our minds, bodies, and futures. Give us courage to release what no longer belongs in our lives and to step into the healing and identity You have already prepared for us.
For anyone reading this who is wrestling with hidden battles, remind them that they are not alone. Show them that nothing is too broken for You to restore.
Lord, make us people who choose purity, obedience, and surrender—not out of shame, but out of love for You. Let our lives be a testimony of Your power to redeem even the darkest corners of our story.
We place our desires, our bodies, and our futures in Your hands.
Make us who You created us to be.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

We don’t always realize how much each decision we make impacts us. The Bible warns that what we sow, we will reap in return. When we’re negative, negativity finds its way back to us. When we’re positive, we often receive positivity in return. And when we show kindness to those who hurt us, sometimes they can’t help but respond with kindness too — because that’s God working on their heart.

When we display the fruits of the Spirit, we reflect what it means to be like Christ.
This week, my character felt like it was under attack — or at least that’s how it seemed. Today, a friend reminded me that it’s really the enemy using something I take honor in against me, because he knows it will weaken my defenses.

And for a few days, it did.

I let the enemy in.

I know my heart, and I know I would never intentionally hurt someone. Yet in this situation, I did hurt someone — in ways I hadn’t allowed myself to see until now. Once they explained their perspective, I could understand how my actions came across and how they were hurt by them.

The thing about emotions is that, because we’re human, we often let them consume us in the heat of a moment. Things get said that shouldn’t be said. We stop considering how the other person feels because we become defensive. The only one who ever handled this perfectly was Jesus — who felt deeply, yet still kept His emotions in check. And even He flipped tables.

It’s hard to walk away and say, “I need a moment,” so you don’t act out of emotion when someone hurts you. It’s hard to hear painful words and still return to a place of love for someone who views you as the enemy. It’s hard to be the one who takes the first step toward peace simply because you know that’s what God is calling you to do.
It’s hard to speak the Word of God — and even harder to live it.

I’ve grown a lot in my walk with Christ, but there are still things from my past that resurface because, as Scripture says, we reap what we sow. I used to get caught up in gossip. I was the person everyone told everything to — and I couldn’t wait to tell someone else. But then conviction came. Since then, I’ve done my best to shut gossip down before it starts. There are still moments I fail, or when temptation creeps in and looks appealing, but God has helped me grow through that.

Even so, people still associate that part of my past with my character. I could do a hundred things right, but if someone accuses me of gossiping — even when I haven’t — it’s easy for others to believe it. Why? Because I reap what I sow.

We can’t change our past, but each day we are washed clean in the blood of Jesus. We have a fresh start every single day. We know who we are in Christ — and that’s the identity we cling to when others question our character.

So how do we do that?

We have to pour into ourselves just as much as we pour into others. We have to invest in our relationship with Christ daily. We have to commit to His will and trust that everything works together for His greater purpose.

For the past few days, I kept saying, “I don’t know how to move forward.” When I told my friend this, she helped me see what I couldn’t — because the devil had placed a stronghold on the situation.

Now, I know what I need to do.

I have to put on the full armor of God and rebuke the enemy in Jesus’ name.

Moving forward in this relationship means choosing to reap what I sow — to sow kindness and love. I pray for the other person, and I pray for myself. I ask God to give us both the wisdom we need to heal, to move forward, and to remember who we are as people — not just the circumstances that hurt us.

I can’t control how the other person will respond, but I can control my own actions and emotions. I can display the fruits of the Spirit and show what it means to be like Christ, even in the uncomfortable moments.

What seeds are you sowing in this season of your life?
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How do you handle it when your character feels misunderstood or under attack?

God never holds our mistakes over us — He redeems them, shaping them into lessons that lead us closer to His purpose. The harvest He’s promised is on its way.

John 15: 13-14
"There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends. You are my friends if you do what I command." 

For a long time, I’ve been caught in this mindset that I need to “find” a husband—that if I could just become a better version of myself, maybe then someone would choose me. I believed that if I worked hard enough, prayed hard enough, and acted “good enough,” I could somehow earn a husband. But that’s not how God works. A husband is not a prize we achieve after collecting enough “good person” points. A husband—like every other blessing—is a gift from God.
The truth is, I didn’t always want to be married. But when I was baptized, my entire outlook on life changed. Suddenly, I understood that my ultimate purpose on this earth is to glorify God. Everything I do—every word, every action—should point back to Him.
Looking back, I think I resisted marriage because deep down, I didn’t believe I was good enough for it. And even now, the enemy sometimes slips in and whispers that same lie—that I’m not enough and never will be. Other times, I realize that maybe I’ve kept myself so busy, or so guarded, that I haven’t left room for a relationship to grow in the first place.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been growing a lot spiritually. Last night, I heard something on a TV show that struck me: the character said they wanted to be in a relationship, but it was their choice whether to make space for someone or not. That hit me deeply—but not just in the sense of human relationships.
Because that’s true of our relationship with God, too.
Every single day, we choose how much space we make for Him.
We choose whether we start our day with Him.
We choose whether we pray—morning, night, or in between.
We choose whether we let Him in during our moments of weakness, or whether we shut Him out and dwell in fear, temptation, or anxiety.
Our relationship with the Lord grows or fades based on the space we choose to give Him.
This morning, I was reading in John 15:14-16, where Jesus says that He calls us friends. That verse reminded me that even Abraham and Moses were called friends of God. And because Jesus came to earth, died for our sins, and rose again, we now get to share in that same friendship. But friendship requires participation—it’s on us to nurture it and make room for it and for us to realize that Jesus chooses his friends who demonstrate their friendship by obeying him.
When I think about marriage now, I think about what it looks like to make space for a spouse while still keeping Jesus at the center. Before my relationship with the Lord, I never would’ve thought like that. But now I desire a marriage where both of us are running together toward the Kingdom of God. I dream of raising children who love and serve the Lord, of breaking generational patterns, of building a home where Christ is not just mentioned but present.
That desire is still there, and yes—it’s a daily battle. The enemy loves to attack where we’re vulnerable. But I believe that God hears the desires of my heart. I believe that in His perfect timing, it will happen. And I believe that just as we choose to make space for a person, we also choose daily whether we make space for God.
Because Jesus loves us.
God so loved the world that He sent His only Son, who died so that we could be washed white as snow and forgiven for our sins. Through His resurrection, the Holy Spirit now dwells within us—if we choose Him as our Lord and Savior.
So, I’ll ask you this:
Are you choosing God today?
Are you choosing a relationship with Him—a friendship?
And in that friendship, are you walking in obedience to what He’s called you to do?
Recently, I truly believed that God had revealed who my future husband was. And I got so caught up in that idea that my focus began to shift—from God Himself to what I thought He was doing. I started idolizing the promise instead of the Promise Keeper.
Then one evening, I went to church. Honestly, I almost didn’t go. But two different people encouraged me to, so I did. And that night, I saw the person I believed was my future husband…walk in with his girlfriend.
My heart sank.
I felt guilt, shame, and this deep sense that I had somehow disappointed God. I went home and cried because I realized that my focus had drifted. I had made this relationship—this idea—an idol.
But even in that, God was merciful.
I realized that my prayers for that person weren’t wasted. Maybe I was meant to intercede for him, even if he wasn’t meant for me. Maybe God was showing me that prayer changes people—even when it’s not about getting what we want.
Still, I had to face the truth: I had put my hope in the wrong thing. I had trusted my own understanding instead of waiting on God’s timing. And yes, I felt foolish—but I’m learning that obedience sometimes looks like sitting in the uncomfortable, trusting that God knows what He’s doing.
Because at the end of the day, I don’t choose marriage. I don’t choose children. I don’t choose my future.
I choose God.
And every single day, I have to choose to make room for Him—again and again.
So, if you’re reading this today, I pray that you make room for God in your life. That you open your heart fully to Him. That you walk with Him, trust Him, and allow Him to reveal your purpose in His perfect timing.
If you haven’t yet, I pray you turn your life over to Jesus. Ask Him for forgiveness. Invite Him in. Say, “Jesus, I accept You as my Lord and Savior.”
And if you ever find yourself longing for friendship, remember this—Jesus is already choosing you. All you have to do is say yes. And when you do, I promise: you will never be alone.
Until next 

Looking back, though, I can see the thread that ties it all together—and it isn’t really about the car wash at all.
When I got my first truck, my dad taught me how to hand wash it at a self-service car wash. I prayed I had enough quarters and that I could finish in time, and those moments became special—a way to spend time together. Later, washing my truck became an errand I shared with my best friend on weekends. Back then, it was fun, not frightening, because she was with me.
As I grew older, I switched to automatic car washes. The errand became less frequent as my friend had other plans, and I found myself avoiding it.
In 2023, I bought a brand-new truck. Never in my life did I think I could afford one, and I am so thankful that God made a way. I told myself I had to wash it often—not just because it’s dark grey and shows every speck of dirt, but because it’s a blessing from the Lord. Colossians 3:23-24 says, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters…”
It might sound silly to say that about a truck, but while it’s in my care, it’s my responsibility to honor God by taking care of it. I even got a car wash membership and promised myself I’d wash it weekly. Did that happen? Not immediately.
Only recently did I start to understand why this mattered so much.
I’m in a season of growth and waiting, and it’s been challenging. I lost a close friend who didn’t share my faith—a friend I had depended on for years. That loss forced me to confront my codependency. I realized I had rarely made plans on my own, allowed someone else’s worldview to influence many decisions, and leaned on a friendship that wasn’t equally yoked in faith. I love her dearly, but this season has shown me how necessary independence and God-centered relationships are.
Though my faith has always been part of my life, it wasn’t until my baptism in 2023 that I truly began to understand the depth of a personal relationship with Jesus. Looking back, I see that my fear of the car wash reflected a deeper fear of letting go. I would only go if she was in the truck with me or on the phone to coach me through it. Now I realize that my anxiety stemmed from depending on someone else instead of placing my trust fully in God.
Spending time alone has taught me that I am never truly alone. I talk to Jesus constantly, seeking His guidance rather than worldly opinions. I’m learning to make decisions and face fears with Him by my side.
This season of waiting extends to my personal life as well. I’m almost 29 and have no suitors, but for the first time, I feel ready to date with the goal of marriage. God has opened my eyes to what a godly marriage might look like and how to discern a partner wisely. I’ve learned that if marriage is in my future, I must submit to God’s design for the roles of husband and wife—something I now see in the example of my parents.
Through all of this, I feel growth—like seeds taking root and beginning to sprout. Last week, I drove my truck through a car wash alone for the first time. I prayed aloud, spent twenty minutes vacuuming and detailing, and felt a peace and contentment I hadn’t experienced before. It was actually fun!
Codependency with someone not equally yoked can hold you back, but seasons of separation can teach you more about yourself and God’s plan than you ever imagined.
I’m starting this blog to share my journey in faith and to encourage you to share yours as well.
Have you ever been codependent on someone you shouldn’t have been? Or struggled with a fear you couldn’t understand? How did God help you through it?
What is your car wash story?