Grateful: Reflections on 30 years of messy, beautifully broken faith.

30 years. 30 years. 30 years. I say that and it startles me at how fast the time runs, not walks by. Like a bolt of lightening in a rainy forecast, how it fires across. First you see it, then you don't.

Now that I'm somewhat of a public figure now, not too many people in my national networks know this former AND current spiritual status that I hold.

I just needed a quick place to pour out a few words of reflection, gratitude, and tension that goes my faith walk.

It's been messy, disturbing, sacred, and yet dazzlingly delightful.

It's a juxtaposition of failures, anointing, grace, dripped with calling and penance.

My roots: The pentecostal Christian denomination that eventually evolved into non-denomination. This eventually morphed into an even rawer faith of which I'm still trying to crystalize.

I'll never forget walking into a small storefront church in Chicago's hood 30 years ago. Walking in with my tia and my cousin, the room was filled with coritos (choruses) from old. Smiles and hugs and banging tambourines filled the ether.

A tall slender man who migrated from Puerto Rico to church plant Reverend William Vasquez took the stage. Speaking in Spanish with his English translator, he started unraveling an account in Matthew about this man named Jesus. Captivated, it arrested my heart immediately. Not taking very long, I opened myself to this idea of a Savior and melted in a warm sweet presence. He became my pastor and was the vessel used to lead me on this faith journey as a teen and into my adulthood. He since passed, but I'll never forget his mark that he left on my life and the life of so many others. Que legacia. Hoy y siempre.

Fast forward: I went from youth ministry to music ministry, to church leadership, eldership and eventually pastorship with my husband who had the pastor calling, not me.

I planted churches, helped build ministries, broke open the mission field announcing social issues and how biblical justice is at the intersection of social justice as my rally cry. Did I mention that I led full on choirs and was lead alto? Your girl used to sing and song write, along with dropping some poetry of course. I even met my husband on the altar. I digress.

I was becoming a sought after woman preacher at one point. All clues and signs towards what was to come.

In these decades---this type of work----a lot was built within me as a result.

Just like many of our greatest singers in the world: Whitney Houston, John Legend, and Aretha Franklin---they all got their chops in the Church.

So when I'm asked where I get my power, my energy, my distinct style of communication from---make no mistake---I got my chops from the local Church. On the record, I'm an urban missionary in the marketplace on call...and this glitter dust is from Heaven's embrace.

Don't be a Cave Girl (Click on title to hear audio sermon) could be one of my fav sermons I ever preached. A dark season, and yet coming out to see the sun moment. This would be the beginning of my Sofia Speaks evolution.

I became obsessed with the person of Jesus, and a devoted student to His teachings, actions, and His contradictions. I thought Him to be a Revolutionary, a Resister against oppressive religious systems and a champion for the underdog. All principles and frameworks of thinking I hold dear and work hard at emulating in my life’s work. I still think all these things and still believe He was the greatest Activist of His time. This is what sparked the activist in me.

He soon became the subject of most of my teachings and preachings. By far, my fav subject—-and still my Muse for my sermons turned keynotes.

Grateful. Sometimes, the memories are messy. Yet, I'm grateful. I'm grateful for the lessons, for the moments of tension and lucidity.

Today? Man, it's hard to articulate the condition of my faith, yet I know it's still there and I know it has a pulse. It doesn't look the same at all. I've been called out into the marketplace and sometimes I feel all the way out past the cross and the garden. Yet, all the sermons, all the ministerial moments are still within the crevices of my heart.

Yet, put honest, I'm relieved. I'm relieved that I no longer have to build traditional ministry and church programming. I'm relieved I don't have to fall prey to people pleasing and packing the house and getting stuck in the performance trap. And might I add, there is no hurt like church hurt. Cuts and slices, stitches & stings. All controversial lived experiences that I'm ok if people @ me for.

Yet, I know I still need community, and I know I can't be ashamed of the Gospel...even though I'm out in the world with what looks like a permanent assignment.

An aside, I do believe in the law of attraction and the power of positive intentions being a magnet to our heart’s dream-map. I do believe it’s grounded in biblical insights like out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, and you have not because you ask not. When I speak of the Universe, I believe it is another essence of creation from His creation to be a magnet towards. Yet, all the while knowing darn well Who created it—-according to my faith receipts.

So today, I'm grateful. In all the class periods, the most potent lesson to date is that I Am the Church. It’s not something we just go to, but it’s something that we Are.

Thus, gratitude. Thanksgiving. Elated over my still ever-present messy, tense, and broken faith. I wish the same for you, dear pilgrim. I wish for you to find peace in the midst of your spiritual tension. Shalom.