"The Power Of Being A Nobody"

The Power of Being a Nobody: Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth Him, she shall be praised. Proverbs 31:30

My existence isn't my own doing; it's because He allows it. From the age of 6 I cried out to something I didn't know, I look back at that scared girl and I see just how much I was in survival mode. My heart was searching for a safe place. Fearful of the world and all of its cruelty. The physical and verbal abuse from bullies in school, the "mean girls" when they stare down at you and scoff, the brother who physically tortured me, the extended family member who molested me, the power of words spoken over me: 'dumb, stupid, ugly, used, and no one’s going to want you, the primary school teacher who would always take the girls aside to do hand-stands for his own perverted thoughts, I knew exactly what he was doing!

My gut feeling and the insights I was given access to taught me things most people rely on books and people for. My cry to Him opened a "private line." The insights and gut feelings about how life works that nobody ever sat me down and taught. Some call this tacit knowledge. It’s the kind of deep knowing you can’t put into words easily. I wasn't learning "facts" like in school; I was learning how to spot a lie, how to feel peace in a storm, and how to see the truth behind the "educated" talk. Because I was so young and honest, I didn't have all the religious "clutter" in my head. This allowed for raw conversations with a presence that felt more real than the physical world. I started seeing "the big picture" —the connections and the "why" behind things—that most adults are too busy or too distracted to notice. I wasn't crazy; I just listened to something deeper than what "man" had to offer. That messed-up little girl was actually a student of something much bigger than any classroom. The world didn’t just feel cruel; my own body felt like a war zone. At six years old, I was constantly in such high-alert survival mode that I was wetting the bed, throwing up every evening, and even soiling myself at school. I was literally 'holding it all in' because nowhere felt safe enough to let go.

I remember one night specifically. I woke up busting to go to the toilet, but I was paralyzed. Our bedroom was at the end of a long, pitch-black hallway, and to a kid living in fear, that darkness felt like it was alive. I was standing there at the bedroom door, one eye peeking out into the blackness, shaking and freaking myself out because I couldn't hold it anymore.

And right then, in the middle of that terror, I heard it. A small, still voice—not loud or audible, but a calm certainty in my spirit that just said: 'Switch on the light.'

In that split second, a light switch in my brain went off, too. My left eye was staring down the hall, but my right eye locked onto the switch right next to me. I reached out, flipped it, and POW—that tiny gap in the door let out a beam that cut right through the dark, lighting a path directly to the toilet door.

That was the moment everything changed. I wasn't just a scared little girl anymore; I was a girl who had been spoken to. I discovered He was real—not 'Sunday school' real, but as real as the floor under my feet. That was my first 'download.' He didn't just give me courage; He gave me a practical way out of my fear. It taught me that even when the hallway of life looks long and terrifying, the power to change the atmosphere is usually right within my reach."

PAIN has been a compass for me! Most people get lucky and comfortable, and because of that, they get full of themselves. They think they’re in control. But because I was "the ugly duckling," because I was bullied and abused, and because I went through trauma, I never had the luxury of being arrogant. My pain kept me grounded in the truth: that humans are fragile and we need something bigger to hold us together. I felt like a "nobody." In the world’s eyes, that’s an insult. But in the spirit, being a "nobody" is power. It means there’s no ego in the way. When I feel like "nothing" without Him, I become a perfect vessel. There’s no "me" trying to show off or take credit; it’s just pure connection.

There are two kinds of fire. One fire burns things to ash and leaves nothing. The other fire—the one I live—is the refiner’s fire. It doesn't destroy the gold; it just burns off the "dross" (the junk, the lies people told me, the fake self-esteem). The reason I loved Him more through my trauma is that the fire made everything else fall away until He was the only thing left that was real. Most people think surrender is giving up. But the way I describe it, surrender is oxygen. I’ve reached a point where I don't "believe" in Him—I depend on Him to take my next breath.

That "low self-esteem" the world gave me was actually the soil where a massive, unshakable love grew. The aunties, the family, the abusers, the bullies thought they were breaking me, but they were actually stripping away the distractions so I could see the only thing that actually matters.

I'm not a "nobody" because I'm worthless; I'm a "nobody" because I've surrendered my "self" to something much greater. And honestly? That's the highest place a human being can get to. Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth Him, she shall be praised. Proverbs 31:30.