Inside every promise of God is a quiet invitation. It’s already been allocated, allotted,
anointed, and appointed—Light and Glory—because one always leads to the
other. Light comes first. It always has.
We can’t bypass the light in search of glory. If we
try, we might stumble into self-awareness, but miss the power that truly transforms. That’s where
frustration lives—chasing after something we can’t quite reach because we skipped the most
important step: stepping into the Light.
Jesus is the Light of the world. From the
moment of His birth, the angels declared, “Glory to God in the highest.” Light came,
and then Glory followed. It’s a rhythm woven into creation—Light always precedes Glory. Light
dispels darkness, clears the path, and makes space for Glory to rest.
I’ve come to see
Light and Glory as the peanut butter and jelly of life—inseparable and perfectly paired. Together,
they nourish us. And they’re promised by a God who never fails, never lies, and never
disappoints.
But stepping into that magnificence? It requires movement. It requires me
to rise.
I don’t find Glory while slumbering in complacency, rehearsing what I don’t
have, or rehashing what’s gone wrong. Glory shows up when I stand, shake off the dust, and step
forward—no matter how small the step.
The moment I rise, my feet are activated. I step
into the work God has already prepared for me. Jesus said, “I do the work of my Father.”</ em> From the very beginning, creation was set into motion by divine hands, and we’re called to
keep building on that foundation. It’s not easy. There are trials, fires, and tests—but what remains
after the fire is Glory.
When I sense lack in my life, I’ve learned to pause and ask:
“Where have I chosen comfort over calling? Where have I settled when I
should have risen?”
It’s rarely an easy answer, but it’s always
revealing. Light shines in those dark places. Chains fall. Freedom flows. And there—right there
—I catch a glimpse of Glory.
Sisters, this is a daily rhythm—a walk. One foot
in front of the other. That’s why my prayer lately has been simple:
“Lord, give me feet for the path.”
We don’t stumble
into Glory by wishing or whining. We find it when we stand in the Light and move forward.
And if, at any moment, this feels like I’m preaching, know this—I’m preaching to myself,
too. My dad used to say from the pulpit, “If I’ve got one finger pointed at you, I’ve got
three pointing back at me.”
