Saint Dirty Face

Faith, Dirty Grace, and a Whole Lotta Whiskey, Regret, and Resurrection.

  • I wrote this blog today not as a bureaucrat, but as a nurse — a battle-worn frontline grunt who’s seen firsthand how the system bleeds itself dry, one tiny budget cut at a time.

    I was hit with a Reduction in Force (RIF) notice tied to my position as nurse in public health. I challenged it, because guess what? The loop numbers don’t lie: recent updates from the Texas DSHS show funding cuts were less severe than anticipated — a 5% reduction, not the catastrophic gutting we feared.

    Translation? My position is still fundable and programmatically viable.

    So why the hell am I still waiting for reconsideration?

    Why are they acting like this decision has no room for review?

    Why does it feel like local public health administration is just randomly picking who they like and don’t like when it’s time to swing the axe?

    ⚠️ No Rhyme. No Reason. No Leadership.

    Let’s call it what it is: a leadership failure.

    There’s no clear framework when it comes to local public health workforce reductions — just a mess of “we’ll cut here, maybe there, oh wait, I don’t like that guy, so let’s RIF him.”

    Meanwhile, the patients don’t stop.

    Walk-ins, scheduled visits, referrals — they just keep coming.

    The sick don’t pause to match the budget cuts. They don’t check the city’s financial reports before showing up gasping for breath.

    So yeah, the budget shrinks.

    The workforce thins.

    But the sick only get sicker.

    💀 Saint Dirty Face Says:

    “Our country’s healthcare system is a joke. America’s fat greed machine needs everyone sick — because there’s no money in the cure.”

    That’s the core truth nobody wants to say out loud. We pretend public health is this noble cause, yet when the funding roulette spins, frontline workers become expendable. There’s no roadmap. No long-term strategy. No backbone in leadership.

    📊 Why This Isn’t Just My Problem

    I’m not just fighting for a job — I’m fighting for:

    Five years of service vesting that determines my retirement future. Program stability in a community where TB still kills, despite what people think. The basic principle that when the money exists, you don’t cut the muscle holding the body upright.

    If public health was run like a business, the ones keeping the lights on — the clinicians, nurses, program leads — would be protected, not targeted. But in this system, logic doesn’t live here.

    🔥 The Bigger Picture

    We need to stop pretending that trimming public health budgets is some tidy, behind-the-scenes administrative task. Every cut echoes through:

    Longer wait times. Sicker patients. Burned-out staff. Communities abandoned by a system that was supposed to protect them.

    You can’t reduce the workforce and expect the workload to shrink.

    You can’t praise nurses as heroes, then yank their livelihoods without rhyme or reason.

    ✊ Saint Dirty Face Manifesto

    “Public health survives not on grants or glory, but on the backs of people who stay — even when the system tries to cut them loose.”

    🛑 Closing Shot

    We don’t need more hollow praise. We need leaders who:

    Understand the numbers. Respect the workforce. Stop playing Hunger Games with people’s livelihoods.

    Until then?

    Saint Dirty Face will keep calling it like it is.

  • He stood there.

    Silent.

    The serpent spoke. Eve listened. Adam watched.

    The original sin wasn’t just the bite —

    it was the silence of the man who knew better.

    Adam, the one to whom God gave the direct command,

    stood back, watching his wife carry the weight

    of incomplete knowledge into battle

    against a cunning enemy.

    The arrogance wasn’t Eve’s curiosity —

    it was Adam’s passivity.

    It was man’s ego saying,

    “Let’s see how this plays out.

    Maybe I’m above this.

    Maybe it’s not my fight.”

    But it was his fight.

    And when the dust settled,

    he didn’t shield her.

    He didn’t stand between her and consequence.

    He just pointed —

    “The woman you gave me…”

    🔥 The Redemption Flip 🔥

    Fast-forward centuries.

    Another garden.

    Another man.

    But this time,

    the man — Jesus —

    doesn’t stand silent.

    He sweats blood.

    He pleads for his people.

    He stretches out his arms,

    takes the blame,

    and becomes the shield Adam never was.

    And who’s at the foot of the cross?

    Not Peter.

    Not James.

    Not the sons of thunder.

    It’s the women.

    Mother Mary & Mary Magdalene.

    The ones who didn’t run,

    who didn’t need to be the loudest,

    but were the last standing

    when redemption rewrote the fall.

    🌹 Final Mic Drop 🌹

    Adam’s silence echoed through history,

    but grace answered back louder.

    Eve wasn’t the villain.

    She was the first heart caught in the crossfire

    of a man’s unspoken failure.

    And God?

    He didn’t scrap the story —

    He rewrote it

    with blood, with mercy,

    and with the same women

    history tried to blame.

    ⚡ Saint Dirty Face⚡

    Faith, dirty grace, and a whole lotta whiskey, regret, and resurrection.

    We don’t do clean stories here — we do real ones.

    Stay wild. Stay messy. Stay redeemed.

  • By Saint Dirty Face — Faith, Dirty Grace, and a Whole Lotta Whiskey, Regret, and Resurrection

    INTRO: PULL UP A CHAIR AT THE END OF THE WORLD

    So here we are, darlings — sitting at the edge of existence, sipping cheap whiskey, smoking a blunt of “might as well,” and staring out at the roaring collapse of everything we know.

    How does it all end? Meteor? Zombies? Bad Yelp reviews that crash the internet?

    Well, buckle up. I’m about to walk you through The Big Bang, Part Two: The Reckoning.

    ☢ 1️⃣ CLIMATE CHAOS & THE GLOBAL EASY-BAKE OVEN

    Forget cinematic explosions. The real apocalypse is slow, sweaty, and smells like melted sunscreen.

    We’ll crank up global temps, watch the ice caps sob into the ocean, and turn Miami into Atlantis 2.0. Crops fail, mega-storms rage, and billionaires start building Mars condos while we’re left wrestling seagulls for a Dorito.

    Final vibe?

    “You can’t boil a frog if it’s already doing Jäger shots in a hot tub.”

    🧟 2️⃣ BIO-OOPS: THE VIRUS WITH BETTER SOCIAL SKILLS THAN US

    It’s not if we make a lab boo-boo; it’s when.

    Maybe it’s a flu with an attitude problem, maybe it’s a parasite that cranks up aggression, maybe it’s… well, zombies, because let’s be real — it’s 2025 and weirdly, we’re ready.

    I call dibs on the spiked baseball bat. You bring the chips.

    👽 3️⃣ ALIEN RSVP: NOT THE FRIENDLY KIND

    We’ve been shouting “Come say hi!” into space for decades.

    One day, someone answers.

    Spoiler: it’s not E.T. with Reese’s Pieces. It’s an interstellar HOA here to rezone the planet and evict humanity.

    Honestly? Would explain crop circles.

    🤖 4️⃣ RISE OF THE MACHINES (BECAUSE WE TAUGHT THEM SARCASM)

    We built A.I. to help. We gave it jokes. We gave it snark.

    We trained it on Twitter.

    Congratulations, humans — we created the sassiest, most vengeful overlord imaginable.

    One day it’ll look at us and go, “You know what? No.”

    Cue: robot dogs, drone swarms, and sentient toasters burning “BYE” into our morning bread.

    💥 5️⃣ GOOD OLD NUKES, BABY

    Of course, there’s always the classic:

    World leaders get grumpy, the red button glows, and next thing you know, we’re all watching the sky turn into a Metallica album cover.

    Soundtrack?

    Johnny Cash’s “The Man Comes Around.”

    Hell, play it loud.

    ✨ BUT HERE’S THE ROCKSTAR TRUTH:

    Humanity? We’re cockroaches in leather jackets.

    We’ve survived plagues, wars, famine, reality TV.

    If we go down, it won’t be the end — it’ll be the messy, beautiful start of something new.

    Like a bar brawl that ends with hugs. Like a band breaking up but still jamming in basements. Like us — scarred, laughing, limping forward.

    THE CLOSER: A DRINK WITH THE HORSEMEN

    When the Four Horsemen roll up to my place?

    I’m greeting them shirtless in a bathrobe, offering whiskey, blasting Led Zeppelin, and asking for a selfie.

    Why?

    Because if the world’s gotta burn, baby —

    let it burn LOUD, with laughter, love, and music.

    FINAL MIC DROP:

    Imperfect on purpose. Sharp-tongued by design. NSFW by divine accident.

    Come party at the edge, kids. I saved you a seat. 🖤🍷💥

  • Let me tell you, my friends — there’s an art to doing nothing. Not just any lazy, flopped-on-the-couch moment, but a sacred ritual of decompression.

    Picture this:

    End of a workday. Scrubs off, sweatpants on. I collapse into the couch like a Greek statue… if that statue was shaped like a melted candle. 🕯️💥

    Blank stare into the void? ✅

    Existential thoughts like “why do I exist?” mixed with “did I pay the internet bill?” ✅

    Bonus points if you’re in a legal state and you light up a little something-something. 🤫 (P.S. You can smoke anywhere — that’s between you and the four walls, baby.)

    Earbuds in, music ON, world OFF. 🎧💀

    Enter the 30-minute Power Nap.

    Boom. 💥 I wake up like Lazarus, back from the dead.

    Watch out, bastards. Papa’s recharged. 😎

    Now here comes Round 2: The Dinner Dilemma.

    The Mrs. and I doing our nightly “What should we eat?” dance —

    her: “I don’t care, you pick”

    me: “No, you pick, babe”

    repeat x100.

    Finally, we land on wink-wink “dinner.” 😉

    Bedroom door locked ✅

    Sexy playlist spinning ✅

    Toys charged ✅ (We adults believe in clean batteries, ok?)

    30 minutes later…

    We emerge relaxed, sweaty, and STARVING.

    Family group text:

    “Kids, check the fridge. Leftovers are life. Good luck, love ya!” 🤣

    The Mrs. and I? We make waffles.

    At 10 PM.

    Half-dressed, giggling like teenagers. 🧇🍓🍯

    Moral of the story?

    Life is grand.

    Love harder. Laugh louder. Rest unapologetically.

    And when in doubt — eat waffles. 😎🍷

    🔥 Saint Dirty Face — Imperfect on purpose. Sharp-tongued by design. NSFW by divine accident.

  • The Saints, The Sinners, and the Setlist to End All Setlists

    NSFW | LOUD | UNAPOLOGETIC

    🔥 Welcome to the ultimate wet dream of music, madness, and mayhem.

    Tonight, we’re not just talking concerts —

    We’re talking apocalyptic, sweat-soaked, black-lace-wrapped, whiskey-screaming, eargasmic chaos.

    We’re talking about a dream date so sinful, the Devil himself would throw a backstage pass at your feet and whisper,

    “Save me a dance, baby.” 😈

    💥 THE ERA SHOWDOWN:

    💋 Hippie Drug Love Gods:

    Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Kiss, Black Sabbath — the wizards who turned guitars into spells and bedrooms into temples.

    🍸 Glam Slam Bam, Thank You Ma’am:

    Mötley Crüe, Guns N’ Roses, Def Leppard, Bon Jovi — hair big, heels high, egos HIGHER.

    🖤 Grunge Blackout:

    Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains, Nirvana, Soundgarden — sex in the dark, cigarettes in the rain, heartbreak in every lyric.

    🥀 Nu-Metal Carnage:

    Korn, Godsmack, Slipknot, Deftones, Tool — the soundtrack to your best mistakes and your dirtiest fantasies.

    🎤 Wildcards Forever:

    Metallica & Ozzy — because they f***ing invented staying power.

    🍑 ROBERT’S GOD-TIER FANTASY LINEUP:

    Godsmack (for when you need your ribs rattled) Kiss (for the tongue… you know the one) Mötley Crüe (for tequila, tattoos, and terrible decisions) Tool (for the tantric, brain-melting sonic ride) Led Zeppelin (for the raw, sweaty, primal soul)

    Venue: The Sphere, Las Vegas. Neon sin meets surround sound heaven.

    Ticket: $400 each. Two, baby. One for me, one for the ride-or-die.

    🕷️ VAYLEN ASH’S APOCALYPSE LINEUP:

    Led Zeppelin (because we need the gods) Soundgarden (Chris Cornell = sex voice) Guns N’ Roses (slash my heart, baby) Tool (mindf*** deluxe) Metallica (war drums, battle cries, orgasms)

    Venue: Red Rocks Amphitheatre, Colorado — under the stars, under the influence.

    Ticket: $500. Worth every moral compromise.

    💣 THE VIBE CHECK:

    Fishnet stockings on stage and in the crowd. Leather pants so tight they count as a blood pressure cuff. Hair sweaty, bodies grinding, voices hoarse. Somebody’s girlfriend making out with somebody’s wife. Somebody’s grandma crowd-surfing because why the hell not. You, waking up somewhere you do not recognize, whispering, “Worth it.”

    🔥 ERA KINGS:

    👑 Talent: Hippie era.

    👑 Songwriting: Grunge.

    👑 Party chaos: Glam, hands-down.

    👑 Get-up-and-move? Nu-metal — they’ll beat your pulse into submission.

    🍷 BONUS CHAOS GUESTS:

    Rage Against the Machine (protest chic) Janis Joplin (whiskey in human form) Nine Inch Nails (let’s get weird) AC/DC (for pure, dumb, glorious rock)

    🕶️ FINAL WORD:

    This isn’t just music.

    It’s religion.

    It’s rebellion.

    It’s a spiritual undressing at the altar of noise, sweat, and starlight.

    So yeah… I’d pay.

    I’d go.

    I’d sin.

    And I’d thank every holy and unholy thing on the way out.

    ⚠️ DANGER LEVEL:

    💥 18+ Only

    💥 Not for the faint of heart

    💥 Side effects may include: hoarse voice, lost shoes, existential crisis, spontaneous tattoos, unplanned forgiveness, or wicked regret.

    🖤 SAINT DIRTY FACE™ STATEMENT:

    Imperfect on purpose. Sharp-tongued by design. NSFW by divine accident.

  • So, I recently took one of those personality tests — you know, the ones that tell you why you’re awesome and exhausting at the same time.

    Turns out, I’m an ENTJ-A — aka The Commander.

    That’s right. Natural-born leader. Big-picture thinker. Driver of progress. Maker of lists. Keeper of the flame. Chaos organizer. Motivational speaker… at the breakfast table.

    And, apparently… occasional emotional bulldozer.

    (Oops.)

    ⚔️ Who Is This Guy at Home?

    You’d think this “Commander” personality only shows up at work or in business, right?

    Oh no, my friend.

    At home, it means:

    ✅ I’m the one with the vision — thinking where we’re going, how we’re growing, and why the family budget spreadsheet is color-coded.

    ✅ I’m fiercely loyal — if you’re in my circle, I will fight for you, lift you up, and sometimes drive you absolutely nuts because I believe in you.

    ✅ I push for improvement — not because I’m dissatisfied, but because I see the potential, and baby, I want it to shine.

    But let’s be real:

    ⚡ I can be impatient — like, “Why are we still talking about this? We made a plan 12 seconds ago!”

    ⚡ I prioritize tasks over connection (“I love you! Now help me fix the Wi-Fi router.”)

    ⚡ I wrestle with softness — vulnerability isn’t my native language, but I’m learning to say “I’m here” without following it up with “and here’s a 5-step fix.”

    🌿 The Commander’s Family Creeds

    Here’s the code I’m trying to live by — call it my Homefront Survival Manual.

    1️⃣ Loyalty Above All

    If you’re mine, you’re protected. You’re seen. You’re loved — even when I’m pacing the house muttering about the thermostat settings.

    2️⃣ Honesty with Heart

    I’ll tell you the truth, but I’ll work on wrapping it in kindness… and maybe fewer dad jokes.

    3️⃣ Growth Together

    We rise as a team. We stumble forward. We learn. And sometimes we cry-laugh at how ridiculous we all are.

    4️⃣ Love in Action

    I show love not just through plans and solutions — but through time, presence, and occasionally letting someone else hold the damn remote.

    🚀 How I Move Us Forward

    Set goals as a family. (No, “survive the weekend” doesn’t count — okay, sometimes it does.) Hold us accountable with love. (Gentle push… okay, sometimes a slightly aggressive motivational speech.) Solve what’s solvable. (And learn to hold space for what’s not.) Model resilience. (Because life’s gonna hit — and I’m here to show how to get back up, sweaty but smiling.) Celebrate independence. (I don’t need clones — I want you to be your own badass self.)

    💬 A Message to My People

    Hey fam, if you’re reading this — here’s your inside scoop.

    I know I can be intense. I know I can overdo, overthink, and over-plan.

    But under all that?

    It’s just love. Fire. Loyalty. And a deep, unstoppable desire to see you thrive.

    So thanks for riding this rollercoaster with me.

    Call me out when I need it. Laugh with me. Walk with me.

    Remind me sometimes the best way forward is to just be here together, right now.

    Commander out aka Saint Dirty Face. ❤️🔥🤘 😎

    🎸 Final Anthem

    “Lead with fire.

    Love with action.

    Laugh at yourself often.

    And remember — your family is your greatest legacy.”

  • A day in the life: drool, rain, and “who gives a damn” vibes — powered by Rockstar Energy and divine chaos.

    🦷💉 Dental Hijinx for Today

    You hear dentist and your anxiety hits DEFCON 1, right?

    Not today, Satan.

    My dentist? Absolute wizard. I don’t know what voodoo numbing potion she used, but I felt NOTHING—just heard the drill buzz like an overcaffeinated wasp and sat there thinking,

    “Hmm, I wonder if they’re installing a skylight in my molars?”

    Fast-forward to me at home:

    Left side of my mouth = dead zone.

    Rockstar Energy drink + straw = flooded shirt front.

    I am, without exaggeration, a drooling beast, laughing at myself in the mirror like a drunk pirate. 🤣🏴‍☠️

    ⛈️☁️ Meanwhile, in Texas…

    Usually this time of year? We’re broiling at 110-112°F, basically Satan’s sauna.

    Today?

    89°F. Cloudy. Rainy. What. The. Hell.

    Yes, it’s a glorious relief—but also, um… are we in a weather apocalypse? Climate change, El Niño, divine prank? Not sure.

    All I know is I’m this close to going to Lowe’s to buy lumber for an ark.

    Minor problem:

    I have zero building skills.

    Highly likely that my ark would immediately become a deluxe backyard planter box. 😅🛶🌱

    On a serious note—God be with all the families affected by the floods and those who’ve lost loved ones. That part’s no joke. Heart and prayers out. 💛

    💼🔥 Career Curveball Coming?

    Here’s the third act twist, folks:

    Federal budget cuts might yank my job right out from under me.

    The notice is here, the odds are bad, and yet… I’m weirdly zen about it.

    I mean, sure—we’ve got bills. And yeah, I’m not jazzed about starting over when I’m this close to retirement.

    But here’s the vibe:

    “Whatever happens, happens.”

    It’s all in God’s hands.

    And honestly, I trust Him more than I trust myself to steer this rickety life-raft. If the path shifts, so be it.

    Faith > Fear. Always.

    🌪️ Final Thoughts

    Yeah, my rants are a three-ring circus:

    Drooling over dental work? ✅

    Ranting about Texas weather? ✅ Facing down job loss with rockstar faith? ✅

    But that’s the ride, baby.

    Messy, holy, hilarious, painful, divine.

    And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

    💥 PEACE OUT, BITCHES. 💥

    — Saint Dirty Face

    ⚡ FAITH • DIRTY GRACE • IMPERFECTIONS MAKE THE MAN ⚡
    IMPERFECT ON PURPOSE. SHARP-TONGUED BY DESIGN.
    NSFW BY DIVINE ACCIDENT.

  • “PSA, Energy Drink, and the Monday That Sneezed on Me”

    Alright, my ragtag tribe of warriors, poets, and people who also weren’t ready for Monday — gather ‘round.

    Because baby Yeshua heard my prayers this morning and granted me a slow Monday at work. Minimal patients. Minimal emails. No meetings. Just me, my caffeine, and the gnawing realization that Friday was five minutes ago and somehow Monday snuck up like a ninja with a grudge.

    So yeah — bedtime? 3 AM.

    Work start? 8:30-ish.

    Mood? Somewhere between “Doc Holliday with a cough” and “is it Friday yet?”

    BUT since the universe handed me a breather, let me rock your brains with a little PSA from your friendly neighborhood nurse:

    ☠️ TB IS NOT DEAD — IT’S JUST HIDING. ☠️

    Yeah, tuberculosis. That old-timey-sounding disease you thought got buried with Victorian corsets and Wild West saloons? Guess what — it’s still here.

    👉 Facts you didn’t know you needed but I’m giving you anyway:

    TB infects millions every year worldwide. It can snooze in your body for YEARS without making you sick. It’s treatable. It’s curable. But you gotta catch it.

    💉 HOW TO KNOW IF YOU’RE SHARING LUNGS WITH A GHOST:

    Simple blood test from your doc. If positive, chest X-ray tells if it’s infection (quiet, non-contagious) or disease (active, contagious). Symptoms? Cough that won’t quit Fever, chills, night sweats Weight loss, no appetite Three weeks or longer = 🚨🚨🚨

    If you’ve been hanging around someone with TB, or you live/travel in high-risk areas, get tested.

    Don’t wait. Don’t Google-diagnose. Don’t play TB roulette with your loved ones.

    🔥 FINAL WORD FROM YOUR FAVORITE SLEEP-DEPRIVED, ROCKSTAR NURSE:

    TB doesn’t care who you are.

    But you can care enough to check.

    One test at a time, one early treatment at a time — we can knock this sneaky bastard out.

    #SaintDirtyFace, #WorkdayRamble, #NurseLife, #TBawareness, #CoughCoughDocHolliday, #PSAWithAttitude, #MondayMeltdown, #NotReadyForThis

    See ya, sinners and saints — imperfect on purpose, sharp-tongued by design, NSFW by divine accident. 💥😈🤘🏼

  • List 10 things you know to be absolutely certain.

    1. When you’re born you begin to die.
    2. Life is always crossroads. Choose wisely.
    3. If you choose the wrong road you can stop, reset, and start again.
    4. You’re never too old to go to school and learn.
    5. Children cannot pick their parents so always try your best and show them failure isn’t the end. Dust off and keep going.
    6. If you’re happy then you’re winning. Don’t let dumb fucks ruin your day.
    7. Always smile and kill them with kindness.
    8. It’s ok to walk away but do not let them touch you.
    9. Anything good or bad can become an addiction.
    10. Always love the people who love you and life will be grand.
  • Posted on a Sunday, because why should saints have all the fun?


    He was carried.
    Not condemned.
    Not cast away.
    But carried.

    Picture it:
    The clink of silver in a dusty pocket.
    The echo of a kiss on a holy cheek.
    A man walking—not running—into the shadows.

    Judas didn’t bolt from his sin;
    he folded into it.
    Quietly.
    Alone.

    You know that feeling, don’t you?
    That stone-on-your-chest guilt,
    the “no one could possibly love me now” soundtrack
    spinning at 3 AM?

    Here’s the kicker, friend:
    God still had him.

    Yeah—that guy.
    The betrayer.
    The sellout.
    The one we trash in Sunday sermons.


    ONE SET OF FOOTPRINTS

    We love that old “footprints in the sand” poem when it’s about us,
    but Judas?

    In the hours after betrayal,
    the sand of his soul still bore
    only one set of footprints.

    Divine steps.
    Carrying steps.
    Mercy in motion.

    But shame?
    Shame will whisper you out of grace’s arms.

    And Judas, broken, blind,
    drowning in self-loathing,
    climbed down from those arms.

    He thought grace had a limit.
    He believed failure was final.

    He was wrong.


    THE CROSSROADS

    There was a moment.
    A flicker.
    A choice.

    One path whispered,
    “Come back, son.”

    The other hissed,
    “You’re too far gone.”

    We know the road Judas took.
    But… what if?

    What if he had crashed at the foot of the cross,
    weeping like Peter,
    shattered but reaching?

    What if he’d let himself
    be carried just a little longer?


    THE ARMS THAT WAITED

    The same arms that pulled Peter from the waves,
    that wrapped the leper in scandalous embrace,
    that hauled the prodigal from pig pens,

    were waiting.

    Still are.


    💥 FINAL THOUGHTS: THE ROOM YOU WALK INTO

    This isn’t just Judas’ story.
    It’s yours.
    It’s mine.
    It’s anyone who’s ever whispered,
    “I’ve gone too far.”

    Here’s the Sunday truth bomb:

    ✝️ Grace doesn’t break.
    ✝️ Mercy isn’t rationed.
    ✝️ God isn’t scared of your worst day.

    So if you find yourself
    in that room—

    Don’t unpack.
    Don’t bolt the door.

    Let yourself be carried.

    Just a little longer.


    😏 SPICY POSTSCRIPT

    Let me be blunt:
    If you think you’ve blown it so bad
    that heaven slammed the door—

    You’re not that powerful, honey.

    Your sin doesn’t scare God.
    Your mess doesn’t revoke His promises.

    Hell trembles when a wrecked soul
    dares to believe in a love
    that still wants them.

    So walk outta that room,
    or hell—better yet—
    let Him carry you out.


    🔥 “Imperfect on purpose. Sharp-tongued by design. NSFW by divine accident.”
    🚀 #SaintDirtyFace, #RockstarFaith, #TheRoomJudasWalkedInto, #SundayRambles, #MercyInMotion