👑 Scroll of the Crown: Let Them — And Let Me — At Work

When Stress Is a Signal, Not a Sentence

Let’s be honest:

Most people aren’t quitting their jobs because they’re lazy.

They’re quitting because they’re burned out, dismissed, overextended, and undervalued.

But here’s the truth nobody wants to admit:

You don’t need them to treat you better before you treat yourself with more power.

And that’s where “Let Them” meets the workplace.

🧠 The Reality of Modern Work Stress

Gallup’s State of the Global Workplace report shows that 44% of employees experience daily stress, and more than 60% feel emotionally detached from their work.

Let’s be clear: This isn’t just about bad bosses or toxic coworkers.

This is about how long you’ve tolerated misalignment because you were too afraid to disappoint others, shake the table, or bet on yourself.

We all know that feeling:

• You’re putting in extra hours but getting less appreciation.

• You’re doing the work of three people and getting thanked like it’s a favor.

• You’re getting feedback from people who don’t know how to lead themselves.

And what do we do?

We internalize it.

We vent about it.

We rehearse it.

We try to fix what isn’t ours to carry.

🎯 Let Them Theory: Applied to Work

Let them undervalue your voice.

Let them bypass your contribution.

Let them ignore your growth.

And; let me decide what to do next.

“Let them” doesn’t mean you stop caring.

It means you stop clinging.

It means you stop tying your worth to how they treat you.

“Stress is the alarm clock that tells us something needs to change.”

— Brené Brown

So, ask yourself:

• What am I doing because I’m afraid, not aligned?

• What standards am I lowering just to survive here?

• What part of me is shrinking because I’m too loyal to dysfunction?

You are not responsible for their poor leadership.

But you are responsible for your next move.

💼 Real-Life Scenario

You’re in a meeting.

You present a solid idea.

It’s dismissed.

Ten minutes later, someone else repeats it, and it’s celebrated.

Old you? You’d be fuming, spinning, plotting your exit in silence.

Grounded you?

You breathe.

You clock the pattern.

You document your contributions.

You build your exit with power, not panic.

Because the power isn’t in forcing them to see you differently.

It’s in choosing to move like someone who already knows their value.

🧭 Ownership Posture: What to Do Instead

1. Stop making stress your identity.

Stress is a signal. Not a strategy. Not a crown.

2. Choose what you’re building toward.

Is this job your end goal? Or just a launchpad?

3. Use your resources.

You have skills, data, networks, certifications. Don’t just hope. Strategize.

4. Don’t confuse endurance with acceptance.

You can be resilient and move on.

5. Let them do what they do.

Let me decide what I will no longer stay in.

🪞 Leadership Mirror Questions:

1. Am I still here because it aligns, or because I’m afraid of starting over?

2. Have I mistaken suffering for loyalty?

3. What have I tolerated at work that I would never allow in my personal life?

4. Where am I asking for recognition instead of realizing I’ve outgrown the space?

5. What would the most respected version of me choose next?

🔑 Final Word: The Crown Doesn’t Beg for Raises

It builds empires.

You’re not just a job title.

You’re a builder, a thinker, a strategist.

If they don’t see it?

Let them stay blind.

You don’t need to burn bridges.

You just need to light your own path.

And when you do it with grace, clarity, and posture,

you stop reacting to the chaos around you.

And start choosing the leadership within you.

Let them minimize.

Let me maximize.

Let them stay small.

Let me walk tall.

Let them cling to old patterns.

Let me rise into new rooms.

Because the crown was never about how they treat you.

It’s about how you respond when they don’t.

👑

👑 Scroll of the Crown: It’s in His Will

And His WILL… will be done.

There were chapters I prayed would never be written.

Wounds I never asked for.

Losses I didn’t see coming.

Pain I tried to pray away.

But the fire I once mistook as punishment

Was actually His preparation.

I used to think that surrender meant weakness.

That letting go meant I was giving up.

That faith meant I had to feel good.

But then I learned,

His will has never been chained to my comfort.

There are still days I don’t understand it.

Why the silence felt louder than my prayers.

Why the door I wanted opened stayed sealed.

Why love felt like loss.

Why staying felt like breaking.

Why obedience looked like failure.

But what if the pain wasn’t a detour…

It was proof the plan was working?

📖 “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”

— Luke 22:42

There are things I never would’ve learned if He had said yes.

There are pieces of myself I would’ve never let die if He had spared me the fire.

There’s a version of me that would’ve kept performing, kept pretending,

if His will hadn’t stripped me clean.

I used to ask:

“God, why me?”

Now I whisper:

“God… You chose me for this?”

And the answer is always the same:

Yes. Because I knew who you’d become on the other side.

And sometimes… it hits you mid-pity party.

You’re sitting in the pain, wondering if your best years are behind you.

Wondering if you’ll ever get another shot.

Until something stronger than your feelings speaks.

Until the theological and logical part of your soul does the math:

“I’ve still got time. And God’s not done.”

That’s when surrender comes.

Not from defeat…

But from holy defiance.

The kind that says:

“Let’s go. God, You got me. I trust You. I’m ready.”

He allowed it to break,

so I’d stop building altars to idols of my own making.

He allowed the silence,

so I’d hear only His voice.

He allowed the heartbreak,

so I’d stop attaching my identity to people He never crowned.

He allowed the wait,

so I’d walk not by sight… but by surrender.

🪞Crown Mirror Reflection

1. Have I surrendered to His will, or just hoped He’d bless mine?

2. Where have I mistaken delay for denial?

3. What in my life am I holding onto that God asked me to lay down?

4. Am I willing to be refined, even when it hurts?

5. What is He still trying to birth in me through what feels like a breakdown?

🗝 Final Reflection: He Didn’t Fail You—He Freed You

If it had gone your way, you wouldn’t be this strong.

If they had stayed, you wouldn’t be this clear.

If the door had opened, your crown would still be plastic.

You’re not being punished.

You’re being positioned.

Because what’s in His will

will be done,

with or without your understanding.

But He’s merciful enough to bring you through it

until you know He was right all along.

Let it break.

Let it rebuild.

Let it be His.

Because the man who trusts His will

never walks alone.

And the fire you’re in?

It’s the birthplace of a throne.

👑

👑 Scroll of the Crown: The Eyes That Hold the Weight

📖 Matthew 14:22–33

Before the wind howled and Peter sank, he was already chosen.

Not because he was perfect.

But because he was bold.

Peter was a fisherman with a fire in his chest.

Rough hands. Quick words.

He cut first, asked questions later.

He confessed Jesus as the Christ, and later denied even knowing Him.

And still, Jesus said, “On this rock I will build My church.”

Why?

Because Jesus doesn’t choose men for their polish.

He chooses them for their posture.

Peter was willing to drop his nets.

To leave comfort behind.

To try, to fail, to get back up again.

And that’s exactly the man who stepped out of the boat that night.

🌊 The Wind Was Real, But So Was the Water

Peter didn’t ask for safety.

He asked for proof.

“Lord, if it’s You… tell me to come.”

And Jesus didn’t give him a lecture.

He gave him one word: “Come.”

And for a moment…

Peter walked on the water.

Not by control.

Not by calculation.

But by connection.

By locking eyes with the One who commands the sea.

But then… the wind.

The noise. The fear. The waves beneath his feet.

And when Peter saw the storm instead of the Savior,

he sank.

Because fear doesn’t cancel the call.

But it will disrupt the focus.

He cried out, “Lord, save me!”

And immediately, Jesus caught him.

Not with shame.

Not with punishment.

But with presence.

And then He asked: “Why did you doubt?”

Not because Peter was weak,

But because He knew Peter was capable of more.

🏹 Focus Is Your Weapon

The enemy doesn’t need to steal your calling.

He just needs to shift your eyes.

From Christ… to crisis.

From promise… to panic.

From Come… to Can I?

And if your eyes move, your posture follows.

Peter wasn’t disqualified.

He walked again.

He preached at Pentecost.

He helped birth the early church.

But never forget:

The moment he looked away… he went under.

Because faith isn’t just about believing in God,

It’s about staying locked in when storms try to distract you.

Storms test posture.

And posture starts with vision.

🪞 Crown Mirror Reflection:

1. Where have I asked for proof instead of presence?

2. What waves have I made louder than the voice that said, “Come”?

3. When did I start walking in faith… but let fear shift my focus?

4. Do I trust that even in sinking, Jesus will still reach for me?

5. Am I building a faith that walks when it’s calm, or one that walks even when the wind rages?

🗝 Final Reflection: You Were Made to Walk on It

You weren’t made to float through life.

You were made to walk on water.

To stand in storms.

To rise above circumstances.

To walk where logic says you should drown.

But you won’t make it if your eyes flinch.

This world will throw wind.

Your past will stir waves.

Doubt will creep in like a fog.

But the same hand that formed you… still reaches for you.

So look up. Lock in.

And walk again.

Because it’s not about perfect steps.

It’s about perfect focus.

And even when you sink…

He still says “Come.”

👑

👑 Scroll of the Crown: The Myth of Relief

There is a lie the flesh loves to whisper:

“This will help.”

And in the moment… it feels like it does.

That choice.

That distraction.

That midnight comfort.

That impulsive reach.

It numbs the ache.

Blurs the memory.

Dulls the longing.

But only for a moment.

And then it leaves you worse

Not because you’re weak,

But because relief without repentance always returns as regret.

Biblical Truth:

“Esau, who for a single meal sold his inheritance rights as the oldest son… afterward, when he wanted to inherit this blessing, he was

📖 Hebrews 12:16–17

The myth of relief cost Esau his legacy.

It turned a craving into a curse.

Because appetite unchecked becomes the assassin of identity.

David believed the myth when he stood on a rooftop and reached for what wasn’t his.

Samson believed the myth when he laid his strength in Delilah’s lap.

Judas believed the myth when thirty silver coins felt better than the wait.

None of them were evil.

But all of them were exhausted.

And exhaustion makes the myth sound merciful.

💔 The Real Cost of Relief

What you chase for comfort

May become the thing that chains you.

The myth always whispers:

“This will make it better.”

But it never tells you the price.

Relief borrows from your future.

It writes checks your spirit can’t cash.

It feeds your appetite but starves your anointing.

You may escape the moment

But you inherit the wreckage.

Because when the feeling fades,

You’re left with a deeper hole than the one you tried to fill.

“They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. ‘Peace, peace,’ they say, when there is no peace.”

📖 Jeremiah 6:14

False comfort doesn’t heal you.

It just wraps your wounds in a silence that still bleeds.

📖 Ecclesiastes 7:3–4

“Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness the heart is made better. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning…”

There’s wisdom in the ache.

There’s a deeper power in not bypassing your pain.

And if God hasn’t removed the weight—

It may be because He’s building something under it.

🪞 Crown Mirror Reflection

1. Where have I exchanged my inheritance for a moment of relief?

2. What “harmless” comforts have kept me from healing?

3. Is my pain asking to be escaped—or excavated?

4. What truth have I avoided because comfort was easier?

5. Where is God asking me to endure instead of escape?

🗝 Final Reflection: The Ache That Saved Me

Sometimes the very pain you’re trying to escape

Is the only thing keeping you from betraying your future.

Because the myth of relief always feels like mercy…

Until it devours your calling.

But the One who loves you enough to let you sit in the ache.

Is the same One who will rebuild you on the other side of it.

You don’t need to escape the fire.

You need to endure it long enough to come out forged.

Because comfort can’t crown you.

Only the cross can.

And while relief feels like a friend,

It’s often just delay wearing a disguise.

Let it hurt.

Let it teach.

Let it make you holy.

👑

👑 Scroll of the Crown: The Things You’ll Never Have to Tell Me

There are things you’ll never have to tell me.

Because I was listening to the silence long before your words caught up to it.

I was watching the winds while you were trying to rearrange the leaves.

And I was standing still, so I could finally feel what shifted when you weren’t looking.

You see, real kings don’t chase noise.

We study patterns.

We wait for truth to turn its face.

And it always does.

You never had to admit it.

I felt the pause when your prayers changed.

I saw the smile that didn’t come from me.

I noticed when grace got too expensive for you to carry,

and the silence started to taste like hiding.

You cried.

But so did Eve.

Tears don’t sanctify betrayal.

They just soften the skin before the bite.

I never asked for perfection.

Just truth.

But when you couldn’t give it

He did.

He gave me the whisper before the evidence.

He gave me the dream before the fallout.

He gave me eyes that no longer beg for closure, just clarity.

And now I know:

I was not the lie.

I was the mirror.

I was the one who walked through the fire and didn’t turn to ash.

I was the prayer you couldn’t hold, the altar you desecrated,

the crown you weren’t ready to carry.

So now, I carry it without you.

And no, you never had to tell me.

The Spirit did.

🗡 Final Whisper (War Declaration):

This is not grief. This is war.

But not the kind with swords and screams.

This war is silent.

Holy.

Just.

Final.

You thought I wouldn’t know.

But I knew before you moved.

You thought I would fall.

But I learned how to walk without your rhythm.

You thought I would chase.

But I don’t chase what crawls after biting me.

You fed the serpent. Now it eats alone.

And I no longer build altars where truth is absent.

I was the king.

You were the test.

But my crown, was forged after you failed it.

Now I walk forward.

Not around you.

Through you.

🪞 Crown Mirror Reflection:

• Have you ever felt the truth long before you were told it?

• Are you chasing clarity, or already holding it?

• Are you still begging at the door of someone who abandoned your altar?

🔥 Final Reflection: The Crown After the Serpent

You don’t need closure when you’ve been given clarity.

You don’t need revenge when you’ve been anointed.

You don’t need answers from someone who answered you with silence

because the truth already whispered everything you needed.

When the serpent slithered in, it didn’t bite the weak parts of me.

It tested my foundation.

And when I didn’t crumble

I knew I was wearing the right crown.

So no, I won’t curse your name.

You gave me the fire I never knew I’d need.

You gave me the lesson I never wanted to learn.

And you gave me the eyes to see what you tried to hide.

But don’t mistake my silence for softness.

I saw everything.

I forgave everything.

And now, I walk as everything I was born to become.

Not because you stayed.

But because you didn’t.

👑