Letting go of being a strong woman
Resigning from God's strongest soldiers list. To all my eldest/only daughters, this is for you.
I’m still on the journey of “I don’t know” and learning to be okay with that.
A recent thought that has come up in conversation with God is that I feel the desire to put down something—or everything—I don’t know. Let me know if this is a solo experience, but a lot of the time, God will speak to me, and my heart will be getting what He’s saying—or at least there’s something in me resonating, knowing there’s a conversation going on—but it hasn’t connected to my head, so I don’t have language for it yet. Other times, it’s the reverse, which is another wrestle in itself.
This happens a lot with God, and it happened again, this week. I knew something was happening but didn’t realize what was happening until Sunday morning while getting ready for church.
I said to Him, “I’m resigning from something. I don’t know what that something is yet but I’m learning not to self-diagnose, so I’ll leave it to You. But I know I need to resign. I’m resigning from trailblazer syndrome? The eldest/only daughter mantle? Call it whatever you want. I’m still finding language for it myself.”
I felt it strongly—there was something for me to unsubscribe from, but it didn’t have a name. But again, we’re learning to be okay with not knowing and letting Him lead, so I left the answer to Him. That’s something I’m learning: letting go and letting God. Very much this energy for the rest of the year—not trusting my own understanding. I’m realizing that “my understanding” isn’t just avoiding something overtly sinful but also self-actualizing—thinking I know myself more than God does. That’s what He’s been showing me. Revealing the pride and ego I didn’t even realize were there in the first place because I genuinely thought I had laid them down.
I made my way to church, and the conversation of the day was about warfare, which, honestly, is a topic I usually check out from because of religious trauma (but we’re working on healing that—the key is remaining honest but open).
Towards the end, two things happened that made me realize how much God really is in everything—and that if you speak to Him, He does respond.
The First Moment
Pastor Tolu raised this scripture:
“Simon, Simon (Peter), listen! Satan has demanded permission to sift [all of] you like grain; [Job 1:6-12; Amos 9:9] but I have prayed [especially] for you [Peter], that your faith [and confidence in Me] may not fail; and you, once you have turned back again [to Me], strengthen and support your brothers [in the faith].” Luke 22:31-32 AMP
And then, this song:
One thing about P. Tols—he’ll raise a song that becomes a mainstay in my playlist.
This moment blessed me—understanding that I have a High Priest who is for me and is praying for me, just as He did with Peter. It wasn’t about falling—it was about believing that even if you fall, just get back up again.
And He’s praying for me:
To get back up again.
To trust again.
To love again.
To dream again.
To open up again.
This gave me hope. I left church feeling a bit fuller than when I first arrived.
The Second Moment
We had to pray for our neighbor because the second half of that scripture speaks to encouraging others. And honestly, this can sometimes sound like spiritual babble, but I can attest there’s so much power in it.
The ability to let go of self and truly focus on another. It blesses them, but it truly does something for you as well. You begin to see as God sees. You realize how invested He is in someone else’s life—and it strengthens your faith to know He’s just as invested in yours.
My neighbor happened to be my girl, Tife. She prayed for me, but first, she wrapped me in a hug—the kind that says ‘you’re covered, you can rest here.’”
Then she asked me a very simple but powerful question:
“I hope you’re resting?”
This was a follow-up from a conversation after my three mini breakdowns—because of just… life lol. Read more here.
She brought up the conversation about warfare for people who have had to carry the weight of their families. The kind of warfare that isn’t external—it’s within their own four walls. They’ve had their childhood taken away too early. They had to grow up too fast. They had to play the role of mediator & peacekeeper. They had to be the generational curse breaker.
And she thought of me because of my own experiences.
She reminded me though: that weight was never been mine to carry. In that moment, I remembered my conversation with God in the shower just hours earlier.
And it finally clicked.
This. This is what I’m unsubscribing from.
The syndrome that masks as strength but is really just survival mode. The syndrome that masks as confidence and humility but actually leaves you prideful and self-righteous—with a dash of victim mentality.
All without realizing it.
For years, I’ve held on to this mentality as a shield. But it was doing more harm than protecting me. I couldn’t be as vulnerable as I needed to be. I couldn’t ask for help. I had to do everything myself.
Because, of course, this is the will of the Lord, right? God’s strongest soldier must be strong, after all. But over the past few years, I believe He has been pulling this veil back—slowly but surely.
People always tell me: “You’re so strong.” And tbh, I saw it as a threat rather than a compliment. I didn’t want to be strong—I’m just a girl!!
But when something keeps showing up, it’s a sign. When something that should be pure—a compliment—becomes something you attach trauma to, that’s a sign. So, as I started to reflect about this strong woman identity, God showed me something interesting.
He asked, “What if you’ve never actually been strong which is why I keep bringing it up? You think because of what you’re experiencing you are strong but if one doesn’t let their experiences change them and become more whole. You were never strong to begin with.”
And it wasn’t in a harsh way. It was gentle—like a father sitting down with His daughter, helping her see herself clearly. He took me back to different moments in my life where I thought I was being strong.
And He showed me that, actually, I was just surviving. I had confused survival for strength.
I thought getting through without asking for help meant I was strong.
I thought carrying it all without burdening anyone meant I was strong.
I thought keeping it together when I was falling apart meant I was strong.
But that wasn’t strength—it was just endurance in survival mode. And wow.
I’m realizing that a lot of the things I thought were ‘me” but were actually just my coping mechanisms. They weren’t real. They were the me that had learned to adapt, to survive, to make do with what I had.
But God is calling me into something deeper.
Not just surviving. Not just enduring. Not just managing.
But truly living and dare I say, thriving.
This isn’t easy. At all.
When you’ve spent your whole life moving a certain way, it takes intentional work to unlearn and relearn.
But I’m grateful for a God who is patient.
For a God who walks with me through this process.
For a God who doesn’t rush me but gently guides me, even when I resist.
It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to lean on others. It’s okay to let go
And most importantly—it’s okay to let God carry me.
I don’t have all the answers yet.
And that’s okay.
I’m still learning, unlearning, surrendering, and trusting.
But one thing I know for sure?
I’m resigning from the Strongest Soldier Position.
It’s been real, but I’m good.
I’d rather be God’s daughter.
That’s more than enough for me.
A scripture that I’ve decided, by all means, to get tattooed—and has now become one of my absolute favorites—is Psalm 73:26:
“My flesh and my heart may fail, But God is the rock and strength of my heart and my portion forever.”Psalms 73:26 AMP
The first time I saw this, it gave language to something my soul had been missing.
I am not strong because I am strong. I am strong because He is strong.
Deep sigh.
This is where David would give a resounding Selah. (I hope we all unclenched our shoulders and jaws after reading that—I know I did.)
True strength is not in my ability but in His.
And that realization has been freeing me, bit by bit, from the shackles of bondage.
But this bondage is deceptive because it masks itself as wisdom. It presents itself as godly, even righteous.
Of course, suffer for the will of God.Of course, He’ll use you for His glory.
(See how negative the connotations are? How can God be in that?)
But that’s genuinely what I believed.
My body was keeping score.
(At this point, Bessel van der Kolk should pay me, because the amount of times I’ve said this phrase in the past few months... but I will be getting my hands on that book as soon as possible!)
Every blow was recorded—whether in my words, my thoughts, or my body.
Life (God?) was doing gbas gbos gbas, and I was just taking every shot and masking the pain.
Because I should know.I should understand.All for the glory of God, right?
His plans for me are good, no?All things are working together for good, right?
But the truth? It was just head knowledge. I didn’t truly believe it. I was walking around with my shoulders tight, high, tense, thinking I knew.
This is where the faithfulness of God comes in.
He poured cold water over me—that’s the best way I can describe it—to slow me down and calm me down.
I was running ahead of Him.
And I had to start asking myself:
What do I really know?
Why do I feel the need to know everything right now?
Who said knowing was even my job in the first place?
Who said fighting was my part to play in this story?
Who made me the main character or the hero of this story?
Because last I checked, it’s very much His story.
Soooo.
I’m learning to wait on Him.
To drop this sense of hurry and urgency that the world makes me believe is required for this moment.
Because God is not in the hurry.
He’s not standing over me like my primary schoolteacher, demanding that I “get it.”
He knows what my soul requires.He knows how best to teach me.
But it has to be in His time.
So, I’m learning to ‘fight’ differently.
Scripture talks about laboring to enter into rest.
That’s the only fight I want to subscribe to from now on, please and thanks. The battle was never mine in the first place—although everything in me wants me to believe otherwise.
It’s His story.
He’s working it out within me.
He’s just letting me in on what’s going on—but He’s not hiring me to get the job done.
So if you need me, please find me under the shadow of the Almighty.
Because I can’t and won’t come and kill myself.
Everything isn’t 100%. It’s nowhere near perfect (I guess the question to ask is: who defines this, me or God?) Things haven’t changed miraculously. The responsibilities are still present, screaming at me. But there seems to be more peace. More strength. More hope.
And even in the moments when I don’t feel hopeful, I have the faith to believe for it. Because I’m no longer carrying it all. This is no longer my burden, it’s His. So let’s unclench our fists, put that yoke down, and slowly, gently, fully receive His.
What I’ve Been Consuming Lately:
The eldest daughter video that inspired today’s musings.
Hebrews 4: The ultimate call to take a deep breath and relax. (Insert screenshot.)
This sermon by my girl, Steffany Gretzinger on abiding. It truly is the solution to everything. If all else fails, just abide, Joannah ☁️
This reminder from
to remember that I am not in trouble.
Working my way through Colossians and deciding to let go of deep philosophical thoughts. Not saying it’s bad, but I’m learning to concern myself with knowing Christ first.
Because my track record with deep thinking and processing? Yeah... not bringing me rest. Just headache. (If you watch the video above, Steffany touches on this.)
Emotional intelligence, self-awareness, therapy, self-development—all amazing. But realizing that He alone can help me navigate these things without trapping me in my own over-processing?
That’s the difference. That’s the rest.
“Having been deeply rooted [in Him] and now being continually built up in Him and [becoming increasingly more] established in your faith, just as you were taught, and overflowing in it with gratitude. See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception [pseudo-intellectual babble], according to the tradition [and musings] of mere men, following the elementary principles of this world, rather than following [the truth—the teachings of] Christ. For in Him all the fullness of Deity (the Godhead) dwells in bodily form [completely expressing the divine essence of God].” -Colossians 2:7-9 AMP
So here’s to resigning, resting, and truly believing that His strength is enough.