What’s in a Brother?

October is now His story of redemption.

It used to be notorious for overwhelming grief and my greatest loss. I was 23 when the sense of family was ripped from my life — I lost my mother.

But God.

He is in the business of redeeming things.

Two years before my mom’s death, I found Jesus — like a real relationship. I began a journey of what it truly means to know Him. Still, in those first few years, the thought of October would bring about a dread starting in June. I truly thought this was something I would always have to contend with — It was just the way it was. However, my perspective and understanding were limited by my grief.

The Shift

As the years progressed, the feeling of dread was delayed — first to August, then September. Six years ago, the dread didn’t strike until the beginning of October. It was an improvement, but it still hit hard.

Then this year, I’m four days away from the anniversary of my mom’s death, and I haven’t felt an ounce of dread.

To feel the absence of something is so foreign. It feels awkward to move forward — like the after of a deliverance session, when your mind has been full of thoughts and voices that were never yours, and now you have peace and silence. You didn’t know it could be like this.

The Beauty of Redemption

The most beautiful thing is that I have come to love my Octobers, because it’s been in October where many promises have been fulfilled.

It’s the month I’m stepping into things I never dreamed of. There’s a stepping into a fullness and authority that continues to wreck and humble me.

It’s the month where the promise, “God has placed the lonely in family,” came to life — where I met a God-given brother and a fathering leader who have profoundly influenced and impacted my life.

It’s the month I learned the beauty of stewarding dreams and finding family in an online community that stretches across regions and nations.

It’s the month when the Lord called me out into the unknown, expanding the family I had cultivated at the church I called home. I just didn’t realize yet, that home would become a person.— Jesus, himself.

A Divine Appointment

So when God says to you:

“This is a divine appointment, a divine friendship — DO NOT miss this.”

take heed.

In an almost audible voice, His words were laced with a militant tone. In the spirit, my response was to salute and say, “Sir, yes sir!”

Looking back at that moment, I realize I never grasped the weight of His words. Seven years later and many stories deep, that word has proven true many times over.

It doesn’t take an almost audible voice to show me a divine friendship. These days, it’s more of a knowing or a feeling.

Over the years, I’ve come to know His voice, and it takes less to catch my attention. As a son grows to recognize his father’s voice, so have I learned to recognize His. (After all, His sheep hear His voice.)

Sometimes it’s the strange certainty that I’ve met someone before, when in reality it’s our very first time meeting. They’re the kind of people who feel like lifelong friends, though we’ve only known each other for a short period.

The most monumental healing I have experienced stems from being placed in family.

In family, identity blooms — because relationships build you up, sharpen you, and hold you accountable.

A Brother Who Fights for You

On a recent Katastic adventure, God sent a brother who helped heal old wounds and opened pathways to Jesus I’d never had a framework for.

God was revealing the parallel of between Jesus and how a brother fights for his sister, protects his sister, sits with her in her lowest moments, and extends his hand to help her up the side of the mountain.

“Bear one another’s burdens.” —Galatians 6:2

Because we all are brothers and sisters in Christ.

But it was more than that — it was an encounter, illuminating the personhood of Jesus. The word brother often becomes interchangeable with Jesus and God began weaving the experience and His truth together.

The Night of Deliverance

It started on the night of deliverance ministry.

I was tired and in pain. It’s a type of chronic pain that, if I didn’t have Jesus, I would be in a really dark and dangerous place. With God, I’m learning to steward my health and believing He will heal my back. (3 John 1:2)

When you are at your lowest, it seems to be the moment when the enemy bombards you with every tactic he has.

We took a break before testimonies and the curse-breaking portion. I went outside to be alone and stretch out my back. I began to contemplate all my inadequacies and physical limitations.

I debated staying outside for the rest of the night. I desperately wanted to run and hide. Pain often makes us run to a cave and isolate, while God’s intention is to bring you to family and heal.

I was wrestling with accusations.

In my pain, I slipped into an orphan mentality due to thoughts that I’m not proud of. I finally broke free and pulled myself out of the pit that I had fallen into. With a deep surrender I declared both to my flesh and to the enemy: It wasn’t about me, and what God wanted to be spoken would be. I picked up my mat and walk back into the circle of my family.

Seen and Fought For

A brother sees you and knows when you’re in pain.

I came back in and began to intercede for the meeting — rising out of the pit. Yet my face still bore evidence of my wrestle and my physical pain.

As deliverance began, this brother paused, came over, and prayed a quick prayer for healing for my back. It never crossed my mind that I would be important enough for him to take time for me.

I normally just tough it out — on my own. (Self reliance at work)

All of a sudden, I wasn’t alright. I could feel something stirring, but guilt gripped me as the accusation struck my heart. The last thing I wanted was to make this about me.

Family is so important. Community is so important. When you allow the Lord to define your tribe, they will always see you. Yet, there’s a risk. It’s risky to be truly known — mess and all.

They knew I wasn’t alright before I could admit it to myself.

The Battle and the Gaze

I met my family’s gaze as each of them ministered to others. I saw it in their eyes — they knew.

I tried to stand and hide, but I couldn’t. Pain gripped my back, and I couldn’t stand up straight. I fell back into my chair.

Anger caused me to slam my fist into my knee and dig my nails into my palms. At that point, it was clear I was not okay.

My family surrounded me as my God-appointed brother fought for me and led me through deliverance.

I’ll never forget the moment of seeing through the eyes of the demon oppressing me.

I saw this brother with eyes of contempt and hate. Yet the gaze reflected on his face carried a message that words can’t fully justify — it carried fierce love. It held raw power and God’s judgment — not against me, but against the demon. The look was an eviction notice to the enemy: its time was up. The reality of a brother willing to fight for me was foreign.

It’s the same way Jesus fights for me. I knew the truth, but I didn’t know what it felt like — until that gaze.

A Brother Who Protects

God wasn’t done with this whole brother encounter.

It’s always the unexpected journey that leads to the greatest breakthrough.

The following day we went on a “walk” that transformed into a “death hike.” IYKYK. It’s the hard moments that forges family closer together, at least it should if we let it and allow no offense to come inbetween divine relationships.

But what was relayed as a brisk walk became an arduous trek up the mountainside. What I didn’t know was that a part of me would die.

I buried self-dependence that day.

I noticed this brother was at the rear, and the word rearguard came to mind. A fellow sojourner mentioned the same word, but his response caught my attention —

“I’m normally not.”

Inside, I smiled, knowing full well the Lord was doing a work in me.

Lessons on the Mountain

There were moments of my weakness on full display — moments when my back couldn’t handle certain obstacles. I wore boots that were too big — another spiritual lesson that pierced me in a deep way.

Don’t covet someone else’s shoes. Your walk is uniquely designed by God. It’s His heart for you to step into what He has created you for, not someone else’s.

I came face to face with an obstacle that made me want to turn back. Yet the only way to get out of something is to keep going — to persevere. There was a fallen tree, and the only way to overcome it was to go underneath. My first attempt failed. My back couldn’t go low enough.

My second attempt failed too — still leaning on my walking stick, my manmade crutch.

On the third try, surrounded by family, I almost made it through — except the stick kept me stuck. My manmade crutch was preventing me from passing through.

In order to go low, I had to let go.

I finally dropped the stick and trusted the people God surrounded me with to strengthen me and push me forward. To my surprise — and despite my weakness and breaking — I made it.

The Strength Found in Weakness

Accepting help is excruciating, especially when you’re used to being on your own. Accepting help in weakness is unnatural.

Being vulnerable and showing your lowest moments compels you to let go of self-protection and shame. It invites you to let down your walls, trust people, trust God and let God define your family and friends. (He’s better at it than I am.)

As I continued the journey, I decided not to dwell in the shame of my weakness but to cling to a beautiful truth:

The Lord’s power is perfected in my weakness.

And every time I came to a place where doubt was louder than my ability, a brother’s hand was extended towards me.

A Brother Who Sits with You

I was walking on uneven ground, climbing the side of the mountain. The shoes were too big, and I kept sliding. I dropped to my hands to steady myself — and broke.

I fell to the ground in pure misery, my back screaming at me. I was embarrassed to show this vulnerable side of myself, where pain stained everything.

When I caught my breath, I turned to see my brother sit down next to me. He offered me his water, and I could barely speak as, inwardly, I was breaking.

Oh, to not be alone during the lowest moments of life creates strength in you to keep going — to not give up or turn back.

We, as the body of Christ, need to learn to sit with brothers and sisters through their pain, acknowledge it, and discern when it’s time to provide water and when it’s time to move forward.

Closer Than a Brother

This adventure has more than marked me.

It was an ablation of the heart, where old wounds were exposed to the fiery love of God reflected in the eyes and actions of a God-appointed brother.

The greatest glory is how this experience has forever altered the way I connect to the person of Jesus. He is indeed closer than a brother.

I am forever grateful.