It’s amazing technology can offer so much, yet it also gives me pause.

Because here’s the thing: the Holy Spirit is supposed to be our guide, our teacher, our comforter. Jesus promised that the Spirit would teach us all things (John 14:26). That means, no matter where we are in life or faith, the Spirit is there to speak to us personally, not just give generic answers, but touch our hearts in a way no AI can.

But how often do we stop and really ask the Holy Spirit to lead us? To open our eyes and soften our hearts? Instead, it’s tempting (I’m guilty too) to grab the easiest, quickest answer — to outsource our spiritual growth to technology. Because it’s convenient. Because it feels like a safe shortcut.

What worries me is when that convenience becomes a replacement. When pastors skip prayer and preparation, relying on AI to draft sermons. When believers stop listening to their own quiet, spiritual nudges and instead search for the “right” explanation from a bot. When we forget that faith isn’t just about knowledge, it’s about relationship.

AI can be a tool. It can help us research, get ideas, and learn facts. It’s not the enemy. But it’s not the Holy Spirit.

No chatbot can pray for you, weep with you, or gently convict your heart in a way that changes you from the inside out.

The Spirit speaks in whispers, in stillness, in moments when we slow down and open ourselves to God’s presence. That’s something no algorithm can replicate.

So maybe this is a little reminder for me and you:

Use technology. Use AI. But don’t let it replace the quiet, sacred space where the Spirit moves.
Don’t ask a bot for the comfort that only God can give.
Don’t lean on quick answers and forget the lifelong journey of seeking His voice.

Because the Holy Spirit isn’t just a source of information. He’s a living, breathing presence — a Teacher, Counselor, and Friend who wants to meet you, uniquely, right where you are.

And that? That’s something truly irreplaceable.

The post AI vs The Holy Spirit: Can a Chatbot Really Replace God’s Voice? appeared first on Queen moremi.

I wanted it. Not just because everyone else seemed to have it, but because I truly wanted that kind of connection with God. But the more I wanted it, the more I felt like something was wrong with me because it wasn’t “happening.”

I started asking questions in my head that I was too scared to ask out loud: Am I doing something wrong? Do I not have the Holy Spirit? Is my Christianity incomplete? Why does this feel like a spiritual popularity contest?

Somewhere along the line, speaking in tongues became a badge. Like proof you’d “arrived” spiritually. And if you didn’t speak in tongues? People wouldn’t say it, but you could feel it — like your faith was less powerful, your relationship with God less deep.

And then there’s the whole teaching people how to do it — “repeat after me,” “don’t think about it.” Honestly? That made it worse. It started to feel like a performance. And I didn’t want to fake an encounter just to belong.

It took me a while to realize this: tongues are not a test of spirituality.
You don’t earn them. You’re not more Christian because you speak in tongues, and you’re not less Christian because you don’t.

The Bible does talk about speaking in tongues as one of the manifestations of the Spirit. It’s not about proving anything. It’s not a badge of honor or a sign that you’ve “arrived.” It’s not a skill you master in Bible boot camp.

Speaking in tongues can be a beautiful part of your walk with God, but it’s not the ultimate mark of closeness with Him. A real relationship with Jesus is.

When it did happen for me, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even dramatic. I wasn’t in a revival or surrounded by fire. I was in my room. Quiet. Sincere. It just… happened. Slowly. Naturally. And not because someone pressured me, but because I was open, and God met me there.

So if you’re reading this and feeling like you’re missing something, hear me:
You’re not broken. You’re not behind.
You’re not less of a Christian. You’re not spiritually deaf.
The Holy Spirit isn’t ignoring you, and He absolutely lives in you, whether or not your mouth moves in syllables you don’t understand.

Speaking in tongues is beautiful. But it’s not the point. Jesus is. And a real relationship with Him? That’s already the most powerful thing you can carry.

The post Speaking in Tongues: Am I Less Spiritual If I Don’t? appeared first on Queen moremi.

But the truth is: forgiveness isn’t really for them. It’s for you. To stop rehearsing what happened. To stop tying your joy to someone else’s apology. You don’t have to act like it didn’t matter. But if you keep waiting for it to feel fair, you might hold on forever. “Forgive, as the Lord forgave you.” (Colossians 3:13) That’s the assignment. And it’s hard. But necessary.

Forgiveness is also about yourself, and sometimes that’s even harder. Maybe it was a mistake you made, a season you mishandled, a version of you that you’ve outgrown but can’t seem to forget. You know God forgives you, but you haven’t quite caught up. You keep revisiting the guilt like it’s a punishment you deserve. But grace doesn’t work like that. If God no longer holds it against you, why are you still dragging it?

So, how do you start to forgive?

You stop trying to win the moment and start protecting your peace. You write a letter and don’t send it. You talk it out with someone safe. You give yourself time, but don’t make bitterness your brand. You stop rehearsing “what you should’ve said.” You pray for the person, even if it’s just one line. “God, help me let this go.” That’s a beginning.

And for yourself? You talk to the version of you that didn’t know better and tell her, “We’re growing now. It’s okay.” You stop calling yourself a mistake. You remember that “there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)

Forgiveness won’t always feel like closure. It won’t always feel mutual. Sometimes the other person is still in denial. Sometimes you’ll never get the conversation. But peace is a better reward than pride.

You’re not weak for choosing grace. You’re not fake for deciding not to retaliate. And you’re not broken just because you’re still learning how to heal. Forgiveness is hard, but it’s also freedom. And it’s yours to walk in.

The post How to Make Forgiveness Easier appeared first on Queen moremi.

But some deeper, often-overlooked layers in that story hit differently when you’re not just looking for the Sunday School moral. Here are a few lessons we don’t talk about enough:

1. Leaving prematurely can cost you more than staying planted

The son wasn’t wrong for wanting something bigger but he was too impatient to receive it the right way. He asked for an inheritance that wasn’t due yet, and it ended in ruin. Sometimes we want the reward without the preparation. We want elevation without obedience. But timing is protection, and rushing what God hasn’t released can leave you empty and exhausted.

2. Rock bottom will humble you… but it will also teach you

He ended up feeding pigs, a job unthinkable for a Jewish man and even envied their food. That’s not just low, it’s desperate. And yet, it was in that low place that he came to himself. Sometimes it’s not the blessings that make us grow, but the breaking. The lowest moments often birth the deepest clarity. Grace met him at home, but growth started in the pigsty.

3. The father didn’t chase — but he never stopped watching

He didn’t run after his son when he left. He didn’t beg. He waited. And when he saw him “from a distance,” he ran to meet him. That’s powerful. God gives us space to choose Him freely, but He’s never far, just watching for the moment we turn around.

4. You can come home — even if you’re the one who walked away

Shame convinces us we have to earn our way back. That we need to “fix it” before returning to God. But the prodigal son rehearsed his apology, and the father interrupted it with hugs and restoration. You don’t have to clean yourself up to come back. You just have to come.

5. The older brother missed the party — not because he wasn’t loved, but because he couldn’t celebrate grace

He did everything “right” and still felt overlooked. His issue wasn’t obedience, it was pride. He wanted fairness, not grace. This reminds us: jealousy and entitlement can blind you to your own access. Just because someone else is being celebrated doesn’t mean you’ve been forgotten.

Final Thoughts

Whether you’re the younger son, the older brother, or somewhere in between, this story is a reminder that God’s house has room for all of us. For the ones who left, and the ones who stayed but lost sight of joy. Grace isn’t always neat, and restoration doesn’t always feel fair. But it’s available.

So wherever you are in the story, come home. The Father’s already running.

The post Lessons from the Prodigal Son We Don’t Talk About Enough appeared first on Queen moremi.

Sometimes it feels… delayed. Slow. Inconvenient. Like, He’s just watching the clock while we’re spiralling.

You prayed, you planned, you even fasted, but still, nothing moved. And while people are out here saying “God is never late,” your situation is very much giving “He’s cutting it close.”

But here’s the thing: God’s timing often feels late to us because we live by deadlines, but He works by destiny.

We want it by 25, by the end of the quarter, before the lease expires, or while the trend is still trending. But God doesn’t rush. He’s not reactive. He sees the full picture, the people you’ll impact, the character you still need, and the doors that aren’t quite ready. To Him, waiting is a setup, not a setback.

So what do you do when it feels like He’s taking too long?

1. Be honest, then be anchored.

Tell Him the truth. “God, I feel behind.” “This hurts.” “I don’t understand.” He can handle that. But after the honesty, go back to what He has said. Back to His character. That He’s faithful, strategic, and never careless. Let your emotions speak, but let His Word be final.

2. Prepare like it’s coming — because it is.

Waiting isn’t passive. Waiting is packing your bags in faith. It’s editing the resume. Saving money. Healing from that last relationship. Obeying the last thing He told you. Waiting doesn’t mean stuck. It means positioned.

3. Don’t create your own timing to protect your pride.

“I’ll be married by 27.” “If I don’t get the job by June, I’m done.” We create these deadlines to feel in control, but when they pass, we spiral. Let go of artificial pressure. God isn’t intimidated by your timeline.

4. Celebrate others without letting comparison cloud your faith.

When it looks like everyone is getting what you’ve been praying for, jealousy is easy. But their testimony is not your timeline. If He did it for them, He can do it for you — in your own time, in your own way, and when you’re actually ready.

5. Stay close.

Waiting can make you drift from prayer, from community, from hope. But this is when you lean in the most. Keep talking to God, even if it’s messy. Keep showing up. Don’t let silence convince you He’s absent.

God’s timing is not late, He’s just not on your schedule. And when it finally comes together, it won’t feel delayed. It’ll feel divine. So hold your peace, fix your posture, and keep the faith. The wait isn’t punishment, it’s preparation.

The post Trusting God’s Timing When It Feels Way Too Slow appeared first on Queen moremi.

The fear of God is not a popular topic anymore. It’s often misunderstood as fear in the sense of being scared or punished. But scripturally, the fear of God is about deep respect, awe, and surrender to His authority. It’s knowing He is holy, and we are called to live in a way that honors Him, not just when it’s convenient or when people are watching, but all the time.

In today’s “do you” culture, we’ve become experts at curating our image and justifying our choices even when they contradict God’s Word. Boundaries are seen as judgmental, correction feels like an attack, and conviction is shrugged off as “negativity.” We’ve created a version of God that fits our lifestyle instead of shaping our lives to fit His Word.

But let’s be honest—can we really call Him Lord if we only listen when it’s easy?

The truth is, walking in the fear of God doesn’t mean losing yourself; it means finding your true self in Him. It means honoring Him with your choices, not just your captions. It means revering His Word, even when it challenges you. It’s living a life that says, “Not my will, but Yours be done.”

This isn’t about living in fear, it’s about living with intention. The fear of God brings wisdom, peace, and divine alignment. It helps us pause before we post, think before we speak, and check our hearts before we compromise.

So, in a generation that’s all about doing you, don’t forget who you belong to. Do you, but do it in the fear of God. That’s where real freedom and purpose begin.

The post Are We Losing the Fear of God in a ‘Do You’ Generation? appeared first on Queen moremi.

In a moment filled with reflection and vision, Bishop T.D Jakes shared that his daughter, Sarah Jakes Roberts, along with her husband, Touré Roberts, will step into church leadership starting this July. The announcement comes just months after Bishop Jakes experienced a serious health scare, a massive heart attack that doctors later told him could have been fatal if he had arrived at the hospital just five minutes later.

Despite stepping down from daily pastoral duties, Bishop Jakes will remain closely connected to the ministry. He will continue to serve as Chairman of the Board and as a spiritual overseer, guiding while also expanding his broader ministry work, including the launch of a new podcast with iHeartMedia.

Founded in 1996, The Potter’s House has grown to a global movement, with over 30,000 members across multiple campuses in Dallas, Fort Worth, and Denver. Passing the mantle to the next generation signals not just a change in leadership, but a multiplying of the church’s impact. “Leadership is not static; it is dynamic,” Bishop Jakes shared. “It demands the courage to evolve.”

The congregation responded with a mix of gratitude and hope, grateful for Bishop Jakes’ decades of faithfulness, and hopeful for the future under Sarah and Touré’s leadership. As the legacy continues, Bishop Jakes’ life and ministry remain a powerful reminder that true leadership is about preparing others to carry the vision even further.

As one chapter closes, another begins, and through it all, the impact of Bishop T.D. Jakes’ ministry continues to echo across generations.

The post Bishop T.D. Jakes Steps Down as Senior Pastor of The Potter’s House appeared first on Queen moremi.

This is the quiet quitting that’s happening in churches today, and not just among the occasional churchgoers, but among women who once led small groups, served faithfully, gave generously, and showed up consistently. Christians who love Jesus deeply, but for one reason or another, don’t feel at home in church anymore.

Some have left because of burnout. They gave and gave until they felt invisible. Others left because of church hurt, the kind that doesn’t always make headlines, but leaves real bruises. Judgment dressed up as concern. Gossip behind the guise of accountability. Leadership that demanded loyalty but offered no real support. Moments where vulnerability was met with silence or worse, shame. And then some simply drifted. Life changed. Priorities shifted. And now they’re wondering if anyone even noticed they stopped coming.

But this isn’t about blame. This is about honesty.

Because underneath it all is a longing, a longing for connection, for truth that isn’t sugarcoated or performative. A desire to be seen, not just for what you can do, but for who you really are. A hunger for a church that doesn’t just preach community, but embodies it.

And what does all of this say about us Christians?

It says that many of us are exhausted with religion that feels mechanical. We’re tired of the pressure to perform. We’re craving depth. We want sermons that speak to our real lives, mental health, questions, and disappointments. We want leaders who are honest about their own struggles. We want safe spaces, not just structured services.

But here’s the twist: many of us who’ve quietly stepped back still love Jesus. Still pray. Still worship. Still hope. We just don’t know where we fit anymore. And that’s the tension: loving God, but feeling distant from His people.

So what now?

If you’re the one who’s stepped back, know this: you’re not strange, or broken, or faithless. You’re human. And maybe this is your pause, but not your end. Don’t give up on the body of Christ. Maybe you just need to heal. Maybe you need something smaller, slower, more honest.

The church is not perfect, but Christians are meant to support, uplift, and walk alongside each other. Scripture reminds us not to forsake the gathering of fellow believers (Hebrews 10:25), not out of obligation, but because community is one of the ways God heals, strengthens, and grows us. 

If church hurt is what’s keeping you away, consider talking to someone you trust in the faith community or seeking counsel. Healing often begins with honest conversations, even with leaders you may feel betrayed by. Pray for restoration, ask God to give you the courage to confront the pain, and allow Him to guide you through it.

And if you’re still plugged in and wondering why people are drifting, check in. Reach out. Not to fix them, but to see them. Ask better questions. Make space for honest answers. Be the kind of church you wish you had when you were struggling.

Quiet quitting doesn’t have to be the last chapter. Maybe it’s just the part where we rewrite how we do community—less pressure, more presence. Less hype, more healing. Less perfect church girl energy. More grace.

The post Why Some Christians Are Quiet Quitting Church appeared first on Queen moremi.

Here are a few gentle but game-changing ways to read your Bible better, especially if you’ve been struggling with consistency or connection lately.

1. Don’t chase quantity—go for depth.

You don’t have to read three chapters daily to “count.” Sometimes one verse, read slowly and meditated on deeply, does more for your spirit than five rushed chapters. Ask, What is this saying? What is God trying to show me here?

2. Find your rhythm, not someone else’s routine.

Early mornings don’t work for everyone. Your quiet time could be in the afternoon during lunch break, or at night with tea and a journal. Don’t force yourself into someone else’s spiritual schedule. Find what works for you, and show up there faithfully.

3. Use a Bible you actually enjoy reading.

If your Bible font is tiny, the language feels complicated, or the layout overwhelms you, it’s okay to try something else. You’re allowed to use a version that feels clear and approachable. (Try NIV, NLT, Passion Translation, or even The Message for devotion-style reading.) You can also try reading multiple versions to get the full message of the scripture.

4. Don’t skip the context.

Before diving in, ask: Who wrote this? Who were they writing to? What’s happening around this moment? A quick Google search or a study Bible app can make all the difference in how much you understand and connect.

5. Pray before you read.

Sounds simple, but it shifts everything. Ask the Holy Spirit to open your heart and mind. Ask for understanding, conviction, encouragement, whatever you need. Reading the Bible with God is very different from reading about God.

6. Journal your way through it.

If you ever feel like you’re “not getting anything,” try writing as you read. It could be a question, a personal reflection, or a verse that stood out. Don’t pressure yourself to be deep, just be honest.

7. Pair it with worship or silence.

Sometimes, a worship song softens your heart before you even open the pages. Other times, sitting in silence with no phone nearby helps you hear what the Word is really saying. Don’t rush it. Let it breathe.

8. Remember: It’s a conversation, not a checklist.

God is not waiting for you to hit your Bible quota so He can be impressed. He’s inviting you into a relationship—one word, one verse, one day at a time. Don’t be hard on yourself. Just keep coming back.

So whether you’ve been consistent or you’re starting again (for the 12th time), know this: the Bible isn’t just a book, it’s a meeting place. And your seat at the table is always open.

The post How to Build a Bible Habit That Feels Natural appeared first on Queen moremi.

This isn’t about shame. At all. Many people reading this may come from homes marked by divorce, or have been through it themselves. This isn’t a call-out. It’s a call-in. A conversation. Because if we’re going to talk about love, purpose, and kingdom living, we have to talk about how marriage fits into that and why so many of them are falling apart.

The real problem isn’t divorce, it’s everything we ignore on the way there. The problem starts way earlier. It’s in skipping red flags because we’re tired of being single. It’s in getting caught up in vibes, aesthetics, or pressure instead of purpose and character. It’s in thinking “I’ll fix him later” or “I’ll change once we’re married.” It’s in choosing someone we can post instead of someone we can pray with.

We talk so much about the wedding—what we’ll wear, what the hashtag will be, who’ll make the guest list—but not enough about the weight of what comes after the DJ packs up and the lace is folded away. Do you even like the person you’re marrying? Do they know God? Do they submit to God? Do you feel safe with their leadership, with their wounds, with their silence?

Again, this isn’t to say divorce is never justified. Abuse, infidelity, manipulation—these are real, heavy things. But outside of those, what we’re seeing more and more is people realizing, after marriage, what should have been addressed before it.

So what’s the answer? Not “just stay and endure.” The solution is deeper preparation. More honesty. Real conversations. Therapy. Premarital counseling that isn’t just ticking boxes. Asking hard questions like: “Can I grow with this person?” “Do we resolve conflict in a healthy way?” “Do I feel peace when I pray about them, or pressure?”

And if you’re already in the marriage and quietly wondering if it’s too late, breathe. This is for you, too. Sometimes the healing starts inside the covenant. Maybe what you need right now isn’t an exit, but a reset. A return to honesty. To counsel. To prayer. To unlearn what wasn’t healthy and relearn each other in a new light. It takes two, yes but if even one person starts leaning into the work, asking hard questions, and choosing growth, the atmosphere begins to shift. Don’t underestimate the power of humility, of asking for help, or of letting God reframe what you thought was finished.

We need to normalize waiting. Slowing down. Calling off engagements when the Holy Spirit says “no,” even if the wedding is six weeks away. We need to talk more about becoming the right person before obsessing over finding one. Because sometimes, it’s not that God hasn’t sent someone, it’s that we wouldn’t know how to steward the relationship if He did. Healing your wounds, breaking unhealthy patterns, learning how to communicate, how to apologize, how to be led, how to listen—these are the quiet, unglamorous things that prepare you for the loud beauty of love that lasts. It’s not just about praying for a good marriage. It’s about becoming someone who can carry one.

Because here’s the thing: marriage is beautiful. It’s holy. It’s worth desiring. But it’s also weighty. And we can’t keep pretending that “just winging it” is working. It’s not.

Let’s do it differently.

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