It always started the same way — a message filled with fire and emojis, words dripping with conviction: *“God has something better for you! ALLELUIA!”*
I would read the words, staring at the glowing screen, knowing deep down they weren’t meant as encouragement but as a warning. They wanted to tell me what my life should look like, how I should worship, who I should love.
The truth was simple: I loved God. And I loved her.
But for some people, those two things couldn’t exist in the same breath. They believed that to love someone they didn’t understand was to live in sin, to walk a path away from God. And so they sent scriptures, memes, and prayers like weapons disguised as blessings.
I never doubted God’s love for me. I felt His presence in the quiet moments — the whisper of the wind, the warmth of a sunrise, the gentle rhythm of my heart when she held my hand. It wasn’t rebellion; it was *truth*. My truth.
Still, the messages kept coming.
"A stranger we will not follow!"
"The Lord knows those who are His!"
They didn’t see that I wasn’t a stranger to God at all. I was His child. They didn’t see that the same God who parted seas and raised the dead also shaped my heart to love deeply and honestly.
One evening, after another long thread of scriptures and rebukes, I closed my eyes and prayed — not for them to change, but for strength to stand firm.
“God,” I whispered, “help me live boldly in Your love. Remind me that Your grace is greater than human judgment.”
And in that stillness, I felt peace wash over me.
Because loving who I love doesn’t separate me from God — it brings me closer to Him. It teaches me forgiveness, patience, and unwavering faith.
So, the next time I read, “God has something better for you,” I smiled.
Because I already knew: He did.
He gave me the courage to live free, to worship fully, and to love without fear.
And that is something no message can take away.
