I remember being 21, fresh with zeal and fire, sitting on my twin-sized dorm bed with my Bible, a journal, and three highlighters. I would wake up early, press play on my favorite gospel playlist, and spend a solid hour “in devotion.” Back then, my time with God looked like something out of a women’s conference promo: quiet, focused, and uninterrupted.

But sis… let’s be real. That version of devotion doesn’t always fit anymore.

We don’t talk enough about what it feels like to be in between that strange, sacred space between where we’ve been and where we’re going. That’s where Ruth met God. And that’s where many of us find Him, too.

Ruth’s story, tucked beautifully into just four chapters of the Old Testament, is often told with a romantic glow: a faithful woman meets a noble man, and they live out a divine love story. But if you really slow down, you’ll see Ruth’s journey wasn’t polished. It was raw, full of unknowns, and laced with loss. She didn’t start in a fairytale. She started in heartbreak.

Feeling exhausted from always being strong? Discover why it's time for Black women to release the pressure, embrace softness, and find true healing.

There’s something sacred about being a woman. Something beautifully complex and divinely powerful that no mirror, magazine, or media message can fully capture. Being a woman, especially a woman of faith, means carrying both fire and tenderness in our bones. It means walking with wisdom and wonder, wearing strength and softness like a garment woven by God Himself.

Let’s start with a truth that too many of us learned the hard way: not every yes is sacred, and not every no is a sin.

For a long time, I believed that being a "Good Christian Woman" meant saying yes to everyone and everything, serving at every event, answering every call, and overextending myself in the name of ministry, family, and friendship. I wore burnout like a badge of honor and mistook exhaustion for devotion.

Sis, let’s talk. Not the social media highlight reel talk. Not the “I’m too blessed to be stressed” kind of conversation. But the raw, tear-stained pillow, hands-lifted-in-frustration, “Lord, do You even hear me?” kind of talk.

Infertility in Black women is a silent and painful struggle that deserves visibility. Learn the facts, hear the stories, and find faith-filled hope and healing in this empowering guide.

If you’ve ever been part of a sorority, you know the power of sisterhood. The chants, the line dances, the all-nighters for service projects and probate prep—it’s more than just tradition. It’s family. It’s love. It’s accountability. But what if the bond that held you together as line sisters could also lay the foundation for something greater—Kingdom sisterhood?

I have been married since February 2013, and my husband and I have been trying to expand our family for six years. Before we got married, we’d decided to wait two years before we would try to get pregnant. But that changed about six months after we said: “I Do.” I was excited, nervous, and a bit scared to embark on this journey to motherhood.

Millennials are the largest generation since the baby boomers and we are making our mark on the world and the church. Every woman that stands beside her husband in ministry, has been called by God to a position of authority that requires wisdom, courage, sacrifice, commitment, responsibility, and understanding.