The Cross I Didn’t Choose
ABOUT
My name is Ashley and I live in the deep South with my husband, two children, and our furry friend Beagle mix, “Rosie Marie”. At 43 years old, I publicly professed Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior.
That likely caught many by surprise. After all, I grew up in church, was raised by two godly parents, tried my best to treat others with kindness, attended services regularly, and kept a bookcase full of Christian non‑fiction (I could probably recite large portions of several volumes). I always wanted to contribute positively to my community, often chatted about Jesus in casual conversations, and always enjoyed participating in a good “Sunday School” debate on most topics. (Oh, my word - do you see how I’m keeping a checklist of all the “right” things?)
But…there was a wide gap between my intellectual understanding of how things ought to work and my actual, surrendered submission to the Lord to make them work. The ends did not meet.
For nearly 25 years I have wrestled with a personal struggle. I have carried this weight on my own and in August 2026, through a series of events God brought me to my knees, and I finally surrendered everything to Him vowing there would be no turning back. I realized that giving in to struggle and living a hidden life of sin may feel good for a time, but it never truly satisfies.
I have often heard of Paul the Apostle’s “thorn in the flesh,” but Scripture does not explain exactly what that thorn was. Speculation is abundant, but the Bible leaves its nature unclear. I believe it’s intentionally omitted so that everyone can relate to Paul’s story. When I contemplated on a good definition of a “thorn,” I’ve come to this: a persistent struggle placed in our lives to draw us closer to the Lord and to require complete dependence on Him. From my own struggle with sin, I’ve seen that when we fail to rely on the Lord, that thorn can grow into a thorn bush: because sin never truly satisfies, indulging it only increases the appetite for more sin and deepens our bondage. The thorn’s purpose, therefore, is corrective and meant to humble us, to teach reliance on Christ, and to steer us toward lasting freedom rather than fleeting pleasure.
Thank you for being here. My heart’s desire for you, dear reader, is that you would see and take the steps necessary to turn completely from sin and turn wholly toward the Lord. I want you to be encouraged: there is a clear way and a gracious plan to reclaim your life and live in a manner that pleases Him. Please know that I am far from perfect and just beginning this journey seeking after righteousness (See the Sermon on the Mount-Beatitudes), but if sharing bits and pieces of my heart on this journey helps even one person find their way, it’s worth it.
Unlike many writers and influencers who tell their story after the fact, I will share snapshots of my healing and pursuit of the Lord as they unfold. I do not want a label, nor do I seek financial gain from what I share. I am simply a saved sinner who must press a nail into my thorn each day, take up my cross, and follow Him. It’s not easy. But I’m determined.
Pictured is my desk where I spend a great deal of time studying, reading, praying, and writing. I first journal pen and paper and later transpose. I am usually accompanied by my beloved pup, Rosie Marie, and always have a candle burning. Scroll further down to access my journal entries. Again, I’m glad you’re here. Welcome.
“If you can continue to influence others even as you experience trying times, you will emerge a great leader”
“You took me out of Egypt, now take Egypt out of me.”
Oh my goodness, what a quote! I recently came across this quote from an unknown author on social media, and my oh my, how it resonated with me, especially given that I had just finished studying Exodus.
The NIV Study Application Bible says something very similar in the introduction to Leviticus:
Just as the Israelites found themselves at the foot of Mount Sinai after their dramatic exit from Egypt, I imagine they may have wondered, “What now?” They had been delivered, but their new life was just beginning. Their deliverance became the foundation for learning what it meant to belong to God, worship Him, serve Him, and become holy, which is to be set apart for Him.
For the past year my youngest son has worn the song “Dusty Bibles” like armor; his baseball walk-up anthem and favorite shower hymn. The opening lyrics are engrained into my brain and I, too, catch myself singing them often. If you’ve never heard it, it’s a must listen. It goes like this:
“We got dust on our Bibles, brand new iPhones, and wonder why we feel this way…” (Yes, I’m singing as I type)
It’s a good song: catchy beat, grin-inducing chorus, the kind that makes you nod and sing along. I’m always proud of him for making a good song choice.
I walk from the kitchen to my desk, carrying a large bowl of Fruit Loops. Not a knockoff, but the real Kellogg’s, filled to the brim and swimming in skim milk. I enjoy cereal, though I try to reach for something I consider healthier. Today, I am not particularly concerned with making the better choice as my desire for something artificial and sweet is stronger than my restraint.
So Fruit Loops it is. (I sit and stare at the bowl in front of me, my journal open and pen ready, as I consider “repentance.)
A clean mop rests in a bucket of clear water, ready to glide across the floors and leave them bright. The house is mostly in its place: only a few small stacks of clutter remain in corners I’ve tolerated, a candle flickers on the table, and knickknacks sit in their assigned spots. The house has been carefully curated over time in my favorite traditional pieces.
Just the other day I sat with a single sheet of paper listing 40-50 sins and struggles, that had been photocopied and provided to me. Some raw and obvious, others not so much. I read each word slowly:
Sex addiction. Pride. Pornography. Drunkenness. Arrogance. People‑pleasing. Worry. Lust. Cheating. Adultery. Fornication. Gossip. Hopelessness. Hoarding. Lying. Judging others. Manipulation. Jealousy and envy. Disobedience. Drugs, substance abuse, and pills. Homosexual encounters. Workaholism. Resentment and bitterness. Selfishness….
My alarm sounded at 6:17 a.m. Normally, I let my eyes rest for a few moments before reaching for my phone and falling into the same familiar rhythm: text messages, work email, work schedule, personal email, a quick scroll through social media, and then a glance at the local and national news. Every single day. In that order.
But this particular morning was different…
I sobbed until my body had nothing left. My face burned; my lashes stuck together; my hair remained greasy and fell in tangles, and the rim of my nose was raw and wet. It went on for days and quite honestly, still does at times. I couldn’t eat; sleep wouldn’t come. This physical response was evidentiary of my aching heart, an ache so deep it hollowed me out…