STEENKINLI RITCH! - by Strength ⚜️

It is Sunday. And somehow, for almost the first time, I woke up without remembering. No Sunday. No church. No rush to dress. No Bible tucked beneath my arm. No familiar voices gathering in the house of God. Just morning.Ordinary, merciless morning. And I hate that.I hate anything that tampers with my faith.Anything that makes me forget the things I swore I would never forget.Because I know how dangerous it is when life gets loud enough to make God sound distant. But what frightened me most was not forgetting that it was Sunday.It was remembering, and still not being able to go. That silence...God. That silence. It sits differently when you know where everybody else is. They are there. In the presence.The presence of the Maker.Hands lifted.Voices rising.Knees bending.Hearts returning to the One who made them. And I,I am here. Sitting with a reality I did not choose.Building someone else's empire because I need VANITY to build my own.Isn't that a strange thing about poverty? It doesn't always look like hunger.Sometimes it is waking up with dreams in your chest and a job on your schedule. Sometimes it is knowing exactly who you want to become and spending your best hours helping someone else become richer. Sometimes poverty is not having nothing. Sometimes it is having options you cannot afford to choose. They told us:“Endure."So we endure. Endure the job.Endure the distance.Endure the tiredness.Endure the things that make your spirit shrink a little because, apparently, this is what responsible adults do. Right? But,what if what we are asked to endure grows bigger than our capacity to endure it? What then?Do we call drowning endurance because we haven't reached the bottom yet?Do we call a cage patience because the door has not been locked forever? Do we keep whispering “God's timing" when what we really mean is, “I don't know how else to survive this." Today,the silence is screaming.The street is quiet. The room is quiet. But something inside me,.Something inside me is making a terrible noise. It is the sound of a woman who does not want to spend her whole life asking permission to live. I want money.There.I said it.I want money. Not the kind that makes me post “God, when?" under somebody else's vacation picture.Not the kind that enters my account and disappears before I can pronounce gratitude. I want real money.I want money that gives my dreams room to breathe.Money that lets me say, “No, thank you." Not because I am proud.But because I have options. I want to be rich enough that my children can choose work because they love it, not because hunger has given them a deadline. I want my daughter to be able to say,“This environment is not healthy for me," and leave without calculating what she will eat tomorrow. I want my son to turn down an offer that insults his values without wondering whether rejection will cost him his next meal. I want them to inherit more than money.I want them to inherit choice.The choice I am fighting so hard to build. I want to be rich enough to buy back my time.Rich enough to protect my mornings. Rich enough to sit in church on a Sunday without calculating what the hours away from work will cost me. Rich enough to give without first checking what will remain in my account.Rich enough to build things that outlive me.Rich enough to look at my children and say,“You don't have to become a slave to survival." And maybe that is why I am restless.Because I don't merely want money. I want freedom. I want the kind of freedom that does not make me choose between building my future and being present in my faith. I want a life where my devotion to God doesn't have to fight my desperation for money for a seat at the table. I want both.God and abundance. Faith and freedom.Purpose and provision.A full soul and a full account. And maybe that sounds greedy.Maybe it is. But if I am going to ask, let me ask boldly.If I am going to dream, let me dream without apologizing.I don't want crumbs and a motivational quote about contentment.I don't want to spend my whole life calling survival a testimony. I want to build.I want to grow.I want to create.I want to own.I want to give.I want to have enough that generosity doesn't frighten me.Enough that obedience doesn't feel financially impossible.Enough that my children can choose their livesinstead of inheriting my limitations. I want to be STEENKINLI RICH! Not just rich in money.Rich in options, time, impact, love, faith.Rich in the ability to walk away from anything that asks me to become smaller than God created me to be. So yes, today is Sunday.And today,? I am not in the presence with everyone else. But perhaps this ache is not the end of my faith.It is the beginning of a prayer I have been too afraid to pray. “Lord, make me capable."Make me capable of creating wealth without losing my soul to it.Make me capable of building a life where I don't have to choose between bread and becoming. Because I don't want to spend my whole life surviving the present.I want to design the future. And if I must begin here, in this quiet room, on this Sunday, with everybody else in the presence and me sitting here counting the cost, then, so be it. Let this silence speak.Let it disturb me.Let it make me hungry.Let it make me build. Because one day, I want to wake up on a Sunday and not have to choose. Not between God and money.Not between purpose and survival.Not between my children's future and somebody else's payroll. I want to wake up, look at the time, smile, and know that I have the freedom to choose where my life goes. And when that day comes,I will remember this morning.This painfully quiet morning. The morning I sat outside the presenceand discovered something else I was desperate to enter: a life I could afford to choose. And God, when You get me there, please don't let me forget You on the way.

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