Love. Hard. Period.

A teacher of the law asked Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life. Rather than answer his question, Jesus countered and asked the teacher to define the law himself and the teacher replied, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

Agreeing to the teacher’s answer, Jesus said, “If you do this you will have eternal life.”

But the teacher wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to test Jesus further. “Who exactly is my neighbor?”

Rising to the challenge, Jesus proceeded to point to the one who was most vilified in their society – the Samaritan. The one who was religiously and culturally different from this teacher – and who was consistently exploited for being so – was the very one whom God called him to love. To embrace. To treat neighborly. To display kindness, mercy and humility toward.

Jesus did not stop there. He not only professed love for the socially outcast but built an entire ministry around other marginalized identities including the poor, the widow, the orphan, the prostitute, sinners, women, children and more, showing that true disciples of Christ show mercy and love to all people without distinction. In his ministry to the outcast, Jesus demanded very little of these people, in fact, he continually claimed that the kingdom of God belonged to those at the margins of society saying, “Blessed are you who are poor, meek, merciful, pure in heart, and persecuted for righteousness sake – for yours in the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 5.3 – 12, NRSV). And at the same time, he continually condemned those in power who were responsible for the marginalized’s misery.

In our day and time, we must consider Jesus’ words and ministry like never before. His injunction to love others unapologetically still applies and this application is not up for debate if we truly do believe that the Word of God is true! In this political moment, the personhood of many immigrant and refugee groups – including Muslims and Latinos – is being called into question as leaders in our nation attempt to pass laws that exclude them. Though some Evangelical leaders suggest that this is not a biblical issue, we do not get to decide what does and what does not apply. God alone calls the shots on God’s own Word, so that if He says that we need to love, we better love. Hard! If not, we have to perhaps consider that we are not only willing to disobey His Word but may be outside of the family of God.

Remember the teacher’s question to Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” For Jesus, love is not a matter of convenience or political expedience; it is a matter of eternal life. Period. In fact, all of the commandments and teachings of the law and the prophets hinge on this one single thing: love. To take it one step further, we cannot even say that we love God if we do not love others – we cannot despise those created in the image of God and still declare that we love God. For us, this means that we cannot say that we love God while simultaneously hating, despising, and oppressing Muslims and Latino immigrants and refugees. Also, remember God has a special heart for the foreigner in our land!

The biblical response to the Muslim Ban and the build the wall nonsense, is to love. And from the place of love, we speak up and speak out against everything that minimizes the personhood of others. We can do this in a myriad of ways including but not limited to writing letters to the editor of our local newspapers, speaking to our family and friends about the importance of resisting despotic policies, joining in protests that affirm the rights and dignity of the oppressed, or informing other Christians about what is going on. The form in which we engage and use our influence as believers is not as important – what is important is that we do something to extend God’s love in this moment.

With This Little Light

20170119_215434The candle that I hold in my hand is small and seemingly insignificant. In a room full of other light, it goes mostly unnoticed. But in times of darkness, such as a power outage, I search for its light to illuminate the room so that I can see.

In many ways, I feel like this candle. Small. Quiet. Barely noticeable in a sea of greatness. A lifetime of being told that I don’t measure up and am not qualified enough, strong enough, charismatic enough, or whatever else, sometimes causes me to doubt that the light inside of me can be of any real worth to the world – just like the candle in my hand. But in times of spiritual darkness and despair, I am reminded that no matter how small or how great my light is, and no matter what others have told me about my light, that I can shine the spotlight on the truth of God’s Word and God’s world so that we can see. At this hour, we all need to see.

So with this little light of mine, I first shine on me. I pray that God would open my eyes to see what He sees, hear what He hears, and understand what He understands. I pray that the Holy Spirit would illuminate my heart and mind so that through His leading I will do what He has called me to do – whether that ‘to-do’ is to provide for a brother or sister in need, march with co-laborers in the fight for social justice, or prophesy in Spirit and in truth against an evil regime. I pray that I would throw of the lies that have been told about who I am and who I should be, and stand upright in the knowledge that I am fiercely loved by my creator.

With this little light of mine, I shine on my family. I pray that God would use both those who are near and far to represent love and mercy, justice and kindness. Through our lives characterized by faithfulness and sacrifice, I pray that God would show those around us what it is to truly follow after Him. I pray that we would make the kind of choices that prove that our love for God and love for others is truly real.

With this little light of mine, I shine on my people, my kin – African Americans. For nearly 400 years, we’ve been fighting the same fight against racism, white supremacy, capitalism and dehumanization. Through the Spirit’s power, I pray that we would find some answers. Through the light inside of all of us, I pray that we would powerfully resist and counter whatever new-fangled form of oppression the system throws our way. I pray that we stand, not as individuals, but as a community of people with a shared history. I pray that even when our strategies may not align, that we would take up the God-given mantle that resides within all of us to secure justice for our children and our children’s children.

With this little light of mine, I shine on other marginalized identities – immigrants of all races and nationalities; those experiencing religious persecution; people who are differently abled; the poor and otherwise economically disenfranchised; the widow and the orphan; LGBTQ communities; and women of all racial, economic, and religious backgrounds – even including those who may not see that I am as much as a part of them as they are a part of me. I hold all of our multiple identities up before God understanding that we all are suffering in different and distinct ways. In spite of the difference, I pray that we would unite and stick by each other. I pray that we build new communities and new alliances, and together begin to imagine what it would look like if we were all truly free.

With this little light of mine, I shine on our country. Oh Lord, have mercy on this country with its roots that are rotten and foundation corrupt. Have mercy on those who continue to wreck havoc on innocent lives simply for material gain that they cannot take beyond this earthly realm. Have mercy on those in power who don’t give a damn about the people and only care about themselves. In spite of the beginnings, I pray that you steer this country on a pathway of healing and reconciliation, justice and restoration. Redeem our past, as awful as it is, so that we may have a future.

With this little light of mine, I shine on our world. People around our globe are suffering under tyranny and oppression. God have mercy! People are seeing their children perish before their eyes for the sake of power, prestige, and resources. God have mercy! Our governments across the world continue to play a game of chicken with our lives and are doing very little to address climate change, protect the world from nuclear war, and ensure that our world economies provide for all. God have mercy! Through your power, steer us on the path of righteousness. Let leaders across the globe who have been on the path of evil and destruction awake from their slumber so that they begin to pursue justice instead. With this light, I pray for economic strategies that work for all of us instead of a few of us. And I pray that those who have been trapped in cycles of oppression – whether they be in India, Senegal, Honduras, or right here in the United States – receive liberation.

And with this little light of mine, I hold us all. Each and every 7 billion of us. Not just for the next four years but for as long as it takes to see God’s kingdom unfold before us. And God’s kingdom, contrary to the empires of this world, is characterized by love, justice, mercy, forgiveness, and hospitality. There is enough food, water, land, and shelter for all – no one is hoarding, no one is stealing, everyone is content with the resources they have been given and generously gives to other. In God’s kingdom, our relationships are deep. The potential of community is fully realized. Our children our safe. Our elders are revered. And the environment not only nourishes but replenishes our soul. With this little light of mine, I will keep lifting up this vision until it is fully realized. Now my little light does not seem to be so little anymore.

Belonging and Survival


The human condition is predicated on the premise that we belong and are needed by others. In order to survive and live life well, we are dependent on the presence and generosity of those who surround us – not only for provision but for meaning, relationship, and warmth as well. Just think about it: in creating humanity, God recognized the need for Adam to have a companion, a wife, a compadre in the struggle who he would be able to do life with. In His own words, God said that it was not good for humans to live alone. Such isolation not only gives us an inflated vision of ourselves but it denies us the opportunity to love and be fully loved by others.

Babies are born utterly dependent on their caregivers and as they mature into adults, they remain dependent on parents for years to come. Adults, in their old age, are dependent on younger family members, social programs, and so much more in order to provide for their needs. Every one of us is a part of a family, a community, places of worship and/or culture where we give our time, talent, and treasure. None of us are able to survive without these connections. We can neither go it alone or imagine that others can go it without us. Such demands that we relinquish selfish ideologies that place ourselves at the center, understanding that the center is much bigger than we ourselves, it consists of all of us. All of us are needed, important, valued and loved.

We cannot imagine for one minute that we could have it any other way. It may seem convenient at times to distance ourselves from others, minimizing our commonalities and mutual need for connection in order to survive. At least, that is what we are told – that life is a zero-sum game where there are winners and losers and that in order to survive, some of us just have to lose. In this alternate reality – alternate because it has no truth in it – people grow richer and more powerful by annihilating all of those who get in their way. Truth is, the act of casting others off comes with the cost of one’s own demise. Remember Cain? Many of us, I’m sure, recall the way in which Cain killed his brother Abel out of jealousy and greed. Many of us, I’m sure, have grown up mourning the loss of Abel. And while, Abel’s loss is tragic, the greatest tragedy of the story is that in Cain’s murderous act against his own brother, he likewise separated himself from community and love. He cut himself off from the very human fabric of which he denied his brother.

Likewise, every time we deny others the opportunity to live and be free, we cut our own selves off from the same opportunity. When we choose profit over life, we rob our own water supply, diminish our own land, and compromise our own ability to breathe fresh air. When we marginalize communities through acts of racism, xenophobia, and homophobia, we cause our own communities to be less safe and driven by acts of fear and aggression. When we trust in politicians instead of the testimony of our neighbors, we put our own lives at risk of being exploited by their despotic policies and practices.

Darwin – in so many ways – had it wrong: our survival is not predicated on the extinction of others. The opposite is true, our survival as a human people necessitates the wellbeing of others. If we want to exist, live, be free, and do well, we have to ensure that no one – on account of their race, religion, ability, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, age, or income – is marginalized for the sake of the advancement of a few or even the security of many. Picking others off just so that some can get ahead only creates an incessant cycle of finding a new class of people to demonize and vilify – until there is no one left.

We are not each other’s enemies; we are each other’s best chance at making it! We are our best chance at putting to rest all of the ways in which we allow ourselves to be cut off from each other. We are our best chance at combating climate change and uprooting white supremacy. We are our best chance at dismantling patriarchy and homophobia. This is not to say that God doesn’t have a part to play, this is His world after-all, but we have to stop using the will of God as a crutch to justify our spirit of do-nothingness. The Spirit of God will do what the Spirit of God will do, and fortunately for us, God often chooses to work through the hearts and lives of human beings. Throughout the Word, the history of the world, and in this present moment, God calls us to recognize our interdependence and out of that recognition, pursue love, justice, and mercy with all people without distinction.

God does this because He knows the ways in which division and disconnection destroys all of us. After-all, He was there when Cain killed Abel. With His own eyes, God saw how Abel’s act made him a fugitive and wanderer on the face of the earth.

And He saw how sin destroyed the unity between Adam and Eve (Genesis 3).

And how fear caused Sarah to abuse and misuse Hagar (Genesis 16; 19).

And how desperation separated brothers Jacob and Esau (Genesis 25, 27).

And how out of jealousy, Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery (Genesis 37 – 50).

In each of these instances, the very act of exclusion that people used in hopes of survival cost them greatly. Acts of exploitation and oppression always come at great cost – not just to the marginalized but to the oppressor as well. This is because God in His infinite wisdom, created us to survive on the connection of others so that when we hurt others, we hurt ourselves. As the South African concept of Ubuntu affirms, we only exist because of the existence of others.

Today, let’s commit to walk back toward one another. I know we’ve been through a rough year, a year marked by violence and chaos on a local, national, and global scale – all of which has been heightened by the lies the we’ve been told about each other. Some believed those lies for various reasons – be it fear, hatred, or bigotry – but at the root of them all was the need for survival.

Let’s reject the lie. Every day, starting from today for the rest of our lives, reject the lie that someone else’s life is costing us our survival. Every day, let us rehearse the truth that we know about each other – that each of us are loved, valued, and needed. And then, let us reach out and form unsuspecting alliances to bring each other in.

Because we’re worth it, I’m not willing to give up on us!

*Link to image >







Give Me Faith…Like a Woman

Sometimes I feel like Moses, praying you would send someone else.

At times I feel like Gideon, desperately looking for a sign that you have spoken to me.
On occasion I feel like Saul, hoping to disappear into the background. 
And other times, I feel like Jonah, wishing to be overcome by a whale so that I won’t have to stand and proclaim your truth in the midst of oppression, evil, and despair.

But then I look to Deborah, who boldly stood up to face her enemies.
And I look to Ruth, who willingly left her family and her land to take hold of a promise that was greater than herself.
And to Rizpah, who brazenly protested against the Davidic empire after he killed Saul’s sons.
And to Esther, who understood her power and looked death straight in the face saying, “If I perish, I perish.”
And then I see Mary, who willingly bore the Savior of the world even though it cost her close relationships as well as her reputation.
And Anna, who refused to die until she saw the coming of the Lord in her lifetime.

Make me like these women who unequivocally understood their God given worth.
Make me like these women who knew what they were called to do and refused to allow male patriarchy, oppression, and even fear, stand in their way.
Make me like these women who were willing to stand out and against the crowd so that they could walk in your call and purpose.
It is the faith of these that I need today, so that I too can move, stand, resist, and proclaim God’s truth and justice to a world that consistently goes its own way. 

Give me faith like a woman who persistently hopes when there is very little to hope in. 
Give me faith like a woman who continues to dream of a better tomorrow when today looks so bleak. 
Give me faith like a woman who willingly defies death and destruction for the sake of her loved ones. 
Give me faith like a woman who nurtures, protects, and gives life to all of those around her.

Because our vulnerability, sensitivity, and love are not weakness. They are our strength.

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3 Things I’m Thinking About in Light of Orlando

It has been exactly a year since the horrific mass shooting took place in Charleston, North Carolina. As soon as I heard about this extreme act of terrorism against black bodies, I was quick to rush to the internet (Twitter) to denounce it. Tears flooded my face with every tweet I sent – I felt deeply hurt, targeted and wounded, understanding that it could have very well been me sitting in the same predicament of the victims and their families. Rather than be silent in a time of my greatest pain, I needed to speak up – no shout – so that the world around me could know that this was not okay.

This week, things have been a little different for me. Rather than speak in light of the Orlando mass shooting, I have been quick to listen, process, lament, and repent. You see, I am not a member of the LGBTQ community neither am I Latina. Since these are two communities that I do not belong to, I have tried to intentionally make space to hear and receive from people in our society who feel especially vulnerable and hurt at this particular time. In silence, here are a few things I am thinking about:

My Own Biases:
Since the shooter was a Afghani male who expressed allegiance to ISIS,* it would be so easy to denounce his hatred and distance myself from any sort of blame. In fact, I tried to do that when I first learned about the shooting Sunday morning. But over the course of the week, I have had a lot of time to reflect on how my own religious biases hold me just as culpable as the shooter. Though my sin does not have such a violent consequence, the reality is that the inner workings of my heart are just as dangerous especially when my verbiage is clocked in a veil of religiosity that laments the actions without naming the cause of those actions. They are dangerous because even in the absence of such vile actions, darkness is present in every word, deed, or thought that suggests that heterosexual people are better than LGBTQs. And it is these inner sentiments that often lead to actions that negatively impact people.

This is why Jesus cautioned us against harboring such negative thoughts toward each other: he intimately understood the ways in which our thoughts and words later dictate our actions:

21-22 “You’re familiar with the command to the ancients, ‘Do not murder.’ I’m telling you that anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder. Carelessly call a brother ‘idiot!’ and you just might find yourself hauled into court. Thoughtlessly yell ‘stupid!’ at a sister and you are on the brink of hellfire. The simple moral fact is that words kill (Matthew 5.21, 22; the Message).”

Understanding my own bias here is one thing; checking those biases and adopting a different worldview is another. It is a process, but again, one of the things that I have been doing is intentionally surrounding myself with other voices who hold different perspectives than mine. Through listening to the wisdom and convictions of others, I know that my own perspective will be changed. Why? So that I can be free of guilt and wrongdoing? No, but so that I will be free to fully love and extend hospitality to others.

My Own Privilege:
In addition to reflecting on my own biases, I have been equally reflecting on my own privilege. Even though I sit at the intersection of multiple oppressions as a black woman in America, I also sit at the intersections of multiple privileges. And in this instance, one of those privileges is that I am a cis-gendered heterosexual in a marriage that is held up as normative. As a result of those privileges, I never have to wonder whether someone is targeting me or my family because of our sexual identity or structure. Neither do I worry about being discriminated against because of who I choose to love.

However, I am targeted and discriminated against in other ways. But because my own identity is not being attacked at this time, it is not appropriate – at least in my opinion – to center that. At all. It is important to specifically name and address the fact that the 49 people whose lives were cut short were mainly LatinX LGBTQ community members. My paying attention to and centering their humanity in this moment does not take away from my own, neither does it minimize my own historical experience of trauma and terror. Instead, centering the experience of others humanizes them at a time when they are being de-humanized

I feel this needs to be said because one of the things that I believe oppression does is blind us to the oppression of others. Because we are so consumed with our own pain, we sometimes lack the ability to empathize with others. As a result, we end up competing with one another instead of standing in solidarity with each other. We can equally go hard for own issues while supporting the issues of others.

Black Lives Matter. My experience as a black woman matters. And today, I am thinking about LatinX LGBTQ lives. They matter to God, and they matter to me, too!

Our Culture of Violence and Hyper-Masculinity
Do you know what the common denominator is in the majority of the cases of police brutality, mass shootings, suicides, homicides, domestic violence cases, rapes and other forms of sexual harassment?

Men. Hyper-masculinized men.

And these men cut across various demographics. Black. White. Asian. Latino. Middle Eastern.

They are so-called Christians, Muslims, Jews and Atheists.

They are rich and poor, and every class distinction in between.

Educated and non.

And they are men.

And those who are not physically violent create the conditions so that others will be violent on their behalf i.e. politicians.

What this tells me is that we cannot blame terrorism or our nation’s crazy obsession with guns for what happened in Orlando. Instead, we should take a deeper look at the ways in which patriarchy governs the ways in which we do life, not only in our nation but across the globe.

In her astute essay on this issue, bell hooks says this:

Patriarchy is the single most life-threatening social disease assaulting the male body and spirit in our nation…It is a political-social system that insists that males are inherently dominating, superior to everything and everyone deemed weak, especially females, and endowed with the right to dominate and rule over the weak and to maintain that dominance through various forms of psychological terrorism and violence.”

So you see, patriarchy is about exerting and maintaining control over others through force. This is what I see happening in Orlando and what I also see happening in our presidential election. It makes no difference whether the abuser is a gun-wielding cop who thinks they have rights over the black body, a group of teenage boys who feel they have the right to lynch the body of one of their female peers, or an affluent, privileged college student who thinks they have the right to rape another student. The results are all the same. Death. Dehumanization. Loss of community. Absence of love.

But of course, the consequences of each are determined by race, class, and power so that the repercussions of the Orlando shooter’s actions on the Muslim community will be more severe than the repercussions on white men over the Charleston shooter’s actions. White police officers are seldom held accountable for assaulting black bodies while the intraracial violence that occurs within our communities are pathologized. The actions of the poor are more highly scrutinized than those of the 1% – all of which suggests that white supremacy and capitalism only intensify the despotic reality of patriarchy. A statement released from the national chapter of Black Lives Matter connects these dots:

“The enemy is now and has always been the four threats of white supremacy, patriarchy, capitalism, and militarism. These forces and not Islam create terrorism. These forces, and not queerness, create homophobia. These forces unleash destruction primarily on those who are Trans, and queer, and brown and Black, and we are the first to experience its’ violence. These forces create the conditions for our dehumanization and our death, and we will hold them to account, no matter whose face they may wear.”

If patriarchy is the cause, actions directed at quelling terrorism, gun control, and even dare I say, white supremacy, fall short of producing change. If these things are only a symptom of our patriarchal society, solutions that center these maladies are only partially effective, though necessary. We will have to go way upstream to tackle this if we want to have a chance of reducing the destruction that is so commonplace among us.


These are just a few of the things I am thinking about in the context of the Orlando shooting that took 49 precious LatinX LGBTQ souls. I am sure that in the days and weeks and years to come I will have many more. My hope and prayer is that we all, myself included, give ourselves the space to reflect more deeply on how we are complicit in the this tragedy as a result of our own bias, privilege, and the way we support patriarchal norms among us. That we would give ourselves the permission to be challenged and grow through events like this, so that it doesn’t take another tragedy to wake us up from our stupor.

The Push for Human Solidarity and Connectivity

solidarity_260_tcm4-678389In this world, or at least in this part of it, we are socially conditioned to walk past each other. Seldom do we stop to engage, to say hi or listen to each others stories. Sometimes we make excuses for not doing so – we are rushing to our next meeting, we are fearful of what might be done to us if we stop, or for the socially awkward among us, we simply just don’t know what we would say. In spite of our rationale, we simply do not carve out enough time and space to be in each other lives in meaningful ways.

This is particularly true considering the many people we walk right pass who are in desperate need of help and relief. Be it the woman on the corner holding up a sign, ‘Will Work for Food,’ as we exit the freeway or the homeless man laying on the street as we walk right by, we don’t stop. Afraid of the consequences or perhaps, our hearts so full of judgment for their predicament, we don’t even try to figure out how we can relieve the burdens of those we walk this earth with.

I thought about this as I flew back from a conference in Los Angeles this week. My hotel was about four or five blocks from the conference location and in route to the conference I often passed several homeless men sleeping or simply laying on the sidewalk, making the space their temporary shelter. Me, all dressed up and batting a hundred, just trying to get to where I needed to be so I could soak up all of the knowledge and wisdom this great event had to offer. But never once did I ever think to stop so that I could listen to their stories; I did not even make eye contact!

The irony of it all was that this was a conference focused on social justice! And doubly so, I consistently preach and teach the need for believers to advocate and provide for the least of these. Of course, I prayed for them as I passed by but would good are prayers when the real need was food, clothing, and shelter? What good is knowledge about best practices in the social justice movement if I couldn’t even consider the basic, common sense practices of meeting people where they are?

I am reminded of the story about the Good Samaritan, a story about a man who inconvenienced himself to provide for the needs of someone else. If we are honest with ourselves, and I certainly want to be honest, the truth of the matter is that we do not want to be inconvenienced. We do not want to waste our time, we do not want to give our resources, and we definitely do not want to take time to listen to someone else’s story, lest we feel the undue burden of coming up with a solution. We do not want to enter into the messy life of others; indeed, we are often so lost in making sense of our own. 

We need each other in this human experiment called life. We can’t continue walking past each other, whether we are in need or not, and expect to emerge from life successfully and operating on all cylinders. We have to learn to stop, learn to speak, and learn to listen to each other, so that together, we can navigate the messy realities of our world. In stopping, in speaking, in listening, we begin to find our way back into each others hearts, back to a place of trust and human solidarity where we are then able to effectively advocate on behalf of the needs of each other and simply be present for one another. We must get back to these fundamental components of the human identity, so that we can be well and do well. Our collective future depends on it!

ReDEFINING Beauty, Love, and Black Men

Thanks to all of you who have participated in the ReDEFINING series over the last month. To date, we have had five different authors submitting their stories. And they have been immensely powerful, candid ones too. In case you missed it, here are snippets of the latest two which were both posted this week, hosted at

Yes, She Will Date You Too!
by Ambrea Pinnell:

…My husband reminds me of my beauty when I can’t see it. I still get the “I like what I see” look from him. When I tell people these things, they are surprised to learn that my husband is white. How can a white man truly love and appreciate the beauty of a black woman? But it happened. And it continues to happen every day. It’s wonderful to see so many white male celebrities begin to openly talk about, date and marry other women of color: Robert Pattinson and FKA twigs, George Lucas and his lovely wife, Justin and Keisha Chambers, Michael Fassbender, Dirk Nowitzki, and Robert DeNiro, just to name a few. I love how they are starting to challenge what is beautiful in the media. Women of color are attractive and finally it is not only black men who are seeing that! Read more >

Black, Educated and Unemployed in America 
by Tope Adedayo:

Yet an interesting phenomenon occurs when people of color prove that we can break through the barriers. When we prove that against all odds, we can get the education and the training and don’t quite fit the statistics of being poor, black and lazy, we still end up being cut off from employment opportunities. In fact, a black man with a college degree is less likely to find employment than a white man with a criminal record. How do we explain this? And I’ve heard it all. You’re overqualified. You don’t have enough experience. Your resume and interview are great; we just decided to go another way. You need to network more. You need to jump more. But the reality is that no matter how high I fly, they never intend to allow me to make it. Read more >

We have several amazing writers on deck over the next few weeks. Be sure to follow @ReDEFINING_ or subscribe to to make sure you don’t miss a thing! And we are still looking for more storytellers. If you have a story you just need to tell, we want to hear from you! Please email for more information.