Hi, friends! It’s been a minute, right? After all the craziness in the first half of 2020, I felt God call me to be still. You might have noticed that I stopped blogging, and stopped sending my newsletter. Part of that pause was due to a redirect of my time towards finishing the manuscript of my book (and I’m excited to announce that it is submitted to the publisher and in the content evaluation phase… which can be lengthy… so stick with me a little longer), but another more poignant reason was a much needed moment to… wait for it… gain perspective.
So much was changing so fast. I know you felt it, too. And I didn’t want to wander into territory that felt artificial or misguided, so I paused.
Well, I’m back now. Done pausing. And y’all, my perspective has shifted dramatically. If you know me personally, you know the five key values in my life are the following: Faith, Family, Humor, Authenticity, and Freedom. Those five values have more meaning to me today than they ever have before, and I’m clinging to them with my actual life.
Let me back up a minute, because I have to tell you a story that you might love, you might totally hate, but one that will most certainly challenge you. We’re going to start on a new journey together, y’all. Because it’s time to prepare the bride of Christ and I can’t afford to waste my breath talking about things that aren’t centered on absolute truth. I can’t promise I’ll always get it right, but it is my pledge to you as we move forward together, that I will approach this platform in prayer, in humility, and in truth as I share what only I can… my perspective.
I was in Washington D.C. on January 6th.
But before we go there, let me back up a second.
My dear friend, Tori, once reminded me that the only name I want associated with my own is Christ. So yes, I’m a Christian. It’s not just what I believe, it’s who I am. It’s whose I am. From that cornerstone, I hold loosely to everything else because anything else runs the risk of idolatry. Yes, I’m a mom—a title I cherish and feel so blessed by, but it’s not who I am. Yes, I’m a wife—a role I feel called to and honored by, but it’s not who I am. I hold a number of other titles from entrepreneur to white female, but none of those titles speak to who I am.
I share that with you to say that my political affiliation is rather irrelevant in this story (believe it or not). But for anyone who is already nervous about where this blog is headed, I will share with y’all that I have voted as a democrat, a libertarian, and a republican. And as identity politics has taken a stronger and stronger hold, I’ve felt like an outsider peering into a two party system that is broken. Today, more than ever before, I am aware of how tightly those who sit on the left and the right cling to their party. They cling to their candidate. Things like #bluenomatterwho and the larger #maga movement are proof of this. We’re clinging to idols, friends, not truth. And we’re taking personally what we should be critically evaluating and holding at a distance.
The last four years have been some of the saddest and most divisive I’ve ever witnessed or read about in our country. It is my opinion that the reason this time in history has been so agitating and antagonistic is because it is a time of spiritual warfare. We have entered into the battle between what is good and what is evil—I’m not trying to sound dramatic. And I’m most certainly not speaking about one side of the political aisle vs the other. The evil resides very clearly on both sides. And honestly, it’s very challenging to see where the good is—but the evil is everywhere.
If you believe in Jesus and the Holy Bible you know that the enemy of our souls resides here on earth. He is stirring up all kinds of confusion and deceit and we have all fallen for it. All of us—yes, me too.
In the weeks leading up to the election, I remained undecided on where my vote would lie—and I wondered truly if it would matter. In an unbelievable culture of censorship that is welcomed by the left, and used as a weapon against the right, it’s been hard to believe in the power of my voice. But alas, after deciding what I could stand for and what I absolutely had to stand against, I cast my vote.
This isn’t the place to talk about Donald Trump and what he is and isn’t because that has nothing to do with why I found myself in D.C. on January 6th. Between November 3rd and today I’ve read countless affidavits, articles, and reports. I’ve watched easily 90% of the live senate hearings in all 6 contested states and then in our US senate after that. It started as a true desire to know if the pit in my stomach about what I suspected and heard rumored was true, and it became a hope and a prayer that someone, somewhere would do the right thing to uphold the constitution and the freedoms that we all have—each of us—wildly taken for granted.
I know that the mainstream media (MSM) would have you believe that courts have heard and thrown out court case after court case, but the truth is very few were dismissed due to merit. A small handful, as a matter of fact (by all means, don’t take my word for it). The overwhelming evidence of this atrocity that was our election has not been heard by a judge, nor has most of it been seen or read by the American people. What a travesty that we would hand over the right to our very thoughts to anything other than the truth of our own convictions.
So on January 6th, as our Congress voted on the most contested election in our nations entire history, I wanted to be there. I wanted to stand outside that building as a reminder that those elected men and women were meant to represent the true voice of the people. I believe that it’s easy to do things in secret and in darkness, so I wanted my presence to shine light on that darkness.
But the bigger reason I drove nearly eleven hours both directions to spend maybe thirty hours in our nation’s capitol is because I believe in the power of prayer. I believe there is power when believers gather together and outstretch hands and call on heaven’s army to war in the supernatural. When we don’t know what to pray for, the spirit intercedes on our behalf and I went to D.C. counting on the spirit’s intercession because I didn’t even know what outcome I hoped for.
For those of you who were there that day, this next part is going to remind you of one of the more profound days you’ve likely enjoyed in your lifetime. For those of you who were not there, and have been told what to think and feel about January 6th, this might surprise you.
My husband and I joined with many other patriots, believers, friends, foreigners and veterans from every state and several countries in front of the White House around seven that morning. It was just below freezing and it wouldn’t climb all that much higher throughout the day. If you were there, you’ll remember prayer from the crowd as well as from the stage. You’ll remember preaching from loudspeakers. You’ll remember worship music. You’ll remember chanting “We the people” and singing “God Bless America.” You’ll remember feeling united, uplifted, encouraged, heard, and proud.
I stood outside the White House from seven in the morning until our president spoke around noon. I talked to people from all over the country, I witnessed people dressed in all kinds of patriotic costumes, and I observed every kind of flag you can imagine—all kinds of Trump flags (of course), Korean flags, Japanese for Trump flags, China for freedom flags, Jesus is king flags, and so on. I didn’t personally carry or wear anything related to Trump—as I was there to pray and to appreciate and utilize my God-given and American fought for freedoms—but I was encouraged in that the majority of the crowd seemed to be there to support America, and not just one man.
I did not hear anything hateful. I did not experience anything violent nor did I feel unsafe, and it needs to be stated that I did not see a single Confederate flag.
I listened to our president speak. I can tell you—not just because I heard the soundbites, but because I was there—our president did not say anything that was inciting, nor did the crowd seem to be riled up in anyway. As a matter of fact, it was one of the more boring speeches I’ve heard. Of course, we now know that the FBI was aware of the supposed “Trump incited insurrection” days ahead of time (which means there could be no spontaneous inciting of said insurrection), but we also know that the breach of the Capitol happened before anyone “incited” by Trump could have made it there. I left the White House, and the president’s speech, early to walk to the Capitol and my very first photo of the Capitol in the far distance was taken at 1:40pm—just a few minutes before it was breached. But of course, you’d have to really dig to understand this timeline or any of the above mentioned narrative as the MSM would have you believe something entirely different.
I have an alternative perspective of the events that day because I was actually there.
As my friends and I walked slowly towards the Capitol, we sang the National Anthem with the crowd, waved flags, took pictures, and made a call or two. One of my favorite moments of the day was when I stopped a man holding a Jesus 2020 sign and asked if I could take his picture. Afterwards, we exchanged pleasantries. He was from Los Angeles. We started talking about God and how He is the only answer to any of this and before we knew it, he and I were singing “How Great is Our God” right there in the national mall. Just he and I. Then we prayed.
Not one time did I see a MSM van, reporter or helicopter until around 3:30pm. No one cared to document the millions of Americans who showed up to peacefully assemble, sing, pray, and hope.
This is what you need to know about what was happening on the ground as you were watching what was happening on the news. There did not seem to be any kind of crime scene (we would later discover someone had been shot) and there was a remarkably small police presence. At no point did I see police with riot gear. I did not see a single attempt to dissipate or disperse the crowd, and at no point did I feel in danger, or that anything was out of control. The closer we got to the Capitol, the more we prayed, chanted, and sang. Yes, people were climbing up the risers. Yes, the energy was high. Yes, I heard rumors towards the end of the afternoon that people had gotten inside the building. But I didn’t believe it. As the Capitol is one of the most heavily guarded buildings in our country on a regular day of the week, I found it hard to believe that it wouldn’t be an actual fortress on the day Congress voted on the most contested election in history. So yes, I dismissed the rumor. And because I did not feel that police were in anyway trying to “get control” of the crowd I had no reason to suspect anything was out of control. Furthermore, as we continued to pray, worship, and sing patriotic songs, I’ll admit I wasn’t in a hurry to leave.
Shortly after we received the curfew notice sent to our phones from the D.C. mayor, we decided it was time to go home. Light was fading from the sky and we had done what we had come to do—assemble, make our voices heard, and pray.
As we made our way through the crowd and into the national mall, I felt compelled to pray once more. I asked the group of us—about 10 friends—to stop and gather together to bow our heads one last time. As I started to pray, I felt stranger’s hands begin to be laid on my shoulders and arms. I felt the presence of others begin to gather around our group. I heard mumbles of “amen” and “yes, Lord.” Tears are falling as I write this, because it was one of the most amazing moments of my life. When I raised my head from that prayer, I could see the many others had stopped to join us in lifting our country, our Congress, our fellow Americans, and our president up to our Heavenly Father. Someone said, “That’s what’s going to save us” as he walked away and I had this great sense of believing that he was right.
Y’all, if that account of my participation makes me a domestic terrorist (as my new president, many members of my elected government, and even my peers have said), then so be it. If this blog somehow makes me a racist or a white supremacist (as long time friends and business associates have alleged) then I fear we’re farther gone than I expected.
My standing for freedom and truth on January 6th has cost me. I knew the risk, and I welcome the fall back because this world is not my home and its opinions of me are nothing compared to the opinions of my Maker. Many who know my heart have abandoned what they know to be true of me, to cling to what they were told to think of me. I know some of my closest friends have thought, “Well, it serves her right for going” or “Why is this even important” and the irony of that is I stood in the freezing cold all day to fight for their right to that opinion. But the part that breaks my heart the most is of all the friends of mine who stand on the opposing side of my opinions, only one sent me a message asking me why I was there. Only one tried to understand what was going on from someone who actually knew. Only one tried to bridge the gap before making an assumption and further dividing. Just one…
Yes, I’m aware a small group of people broke into the Capitol. I think that’s crazy, and it makes me sad. There are certainly plenty of narratives to that story that rival the MSM’s version—if you care to look—but the point I’m making is that had nothing to do with me or why I was there. In the same way we were told to separate protesters and rioters all summer long, it feels redundant and ironic to have to ask the same now, but I will ask.
The truth is I am so grateful that I was in D.C. on January 6th. I have seen with my own eyes something that will never be recorded in history. I know truth in a way that those on the outside can only guess at, or assume. And a veil has been pulled from my eyes exposing a deeper darkness than I originally thought I was praying against. I’m grateful for these things. When I say January 6th was one of the more profound days of my life, I mean it in every way imaginable.
Let me end with this: If you are an American who enjoys your opinions, your rights, your freedoms… even if you, like me, take them for granted every single day… it’s time to open your eyes. It’s time to seek understanding. It’s time to look into our history books before they are re-written so that we don’t make the same mistakes so many “wise” people who have gone before us have made. The Bible says “There is more hope for fools than for people who think they are wise.” (Prov. 26:12) I watched a coup happen in front of my eyes while the world looked the other way, and I came home to understand that my prayers made me a terrorist in the minds of those who know me to be anything but.
If you are a believer in Christ, it is WAY PAST TIME to wake up. I’ll be the first to admit that I have been complicit in our cultural abandonment of the truth of God. My desire to remain loyal to the rights of the individual and to social justice and to the comforts of big tech have left me entirely disloyal to the God to whom I will have to give an account.
We. Have. Been. Deceived.
Eve was tricked in the garden. But Adam took the fruit knowingly. It doesn’t matter which you are, it’s time for repentance.
The great prophet Elijah said “How long will you waver between two opinions?” (1 kings 18:21) How long, church? There is the opinion of the world—the opinion that remains subjective and self-important. And there is the opinion of God Almighty—anchored and unchangeable and unavoidable. We can’t serve two masters. We can’t continue to be blinded or look the other way. We must stare fiercely into the darkness and answer God’s call on His bride: Here I am, Lord. Send me.
The time between Jan 6th and today has opened my eyes even further, and I struggle to fully believe the state of things in both our nation and in the church, but despite what it will surely cost me to speak out, I am feeling convicted that I have been set on this earth for such a time as this. This, friends, is just the beginning. I hope you’ll join me as I continue on this path into the darkness, trusting in God’s light to guide me, but I understand and honor your decision to jump ship if you just can’t.
I hope you will. Because I’m just getting started.