We all can see the writing on the wall. Donald J. Trump and his authoritarian administration will stop at seemingly nothing but the hand of God to turn back the hands of time to a day reminiscent of segregation, hate, and fear.
The rolling back of DEI initiatives and uber aggressive federal workforce scale back has left hundreds of thousands of Americans without work.
The attacks on free speech, black history, and any and everything woke will prove to be the hangman’s own undoing.
You cannot and will not be able to prevent God’s progression of truth. We must and will overcome.
We simply must resist tyranny with all our might and weather the storm with steadfast and patient endurance.
The race is not given to the swift, but he who endures t through to the end shall have eternal victory.
What Trump is doing is simply not sustainable and Babylon’s institutional and systemic towers will fall.
The first shall be last, and the last shall be first. So, keep the faith and persevere. We got this!
Woke & Rooted | The Stained Glass Collective | From the Belly Ministries
“But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people…”
—1 Peter 2:9 (KJV)
They said we were scattered because we sinned.
They told us our exile was punishment, our dispersion a disgrace.
They forgot that God often moves through what the world calls broken.
We are the Diaspora Priesthood.
The Scattered Are Also the Sacred
When the temple fell and the Ark was carried into enemy territory, the presence of God didn’t vanish—it moved. It met the people where they were: in the wilderness, in exile, in Babylon.
So many of us in the African Diaspora have been taught to view our history as a chain of losses: lost names, lost tongues, lost lands, lost gods. But what if we are not just a scattered people—we are also a consecrated people?
What if the journey through ships, plantations, prisons, and projects was never about erasure, but about refinement?
Like the Levites, we were set apart. But not for a temple made of stone.
We were set apart to carry presence in the wilderness.
The Priesthood Was Never Meant to Stay in the Sanctuary
In today’s world, the word “priest” conjures up a figure robed in ceremony, separated from the people, far from protest or pain. But in Exodus, priests were born of fire. Their first duty was to stand in the gap.
They were mediators. Bridge-builders. Bearers of sacrifice.
And that is who we are now—those who live between worlds. Between Babylon and Zion. Between grief and glory.
We are priests not because we wear collars, but because we’ve survived captivity and still carry the name of the Lord in our bones.
Diaspora Doesn’t Disqualify You—It Ordains You
God didn’t wait for us to return to the “promised land” to call us. God called us in Babylon. Just like Ezekiel received visions by the rivers of captivity. Just like Daniel led in the king’s court. Just like Jesus, born under empire, moved among the marginalized.
Our location is not a limitation. Our dislocation is divine preparation.
We are a priesthood forged not in temples, but in ghettos and plantations, in jazz clubs and protests, in classrooms and courtrooms.
We are a people of liturgy and liberation.
We are a people of incense and insurrection.
A Sacred Responsibility
To be a priest in exile is to:
Carry sacredness into secular spaces Speak truth to empire even when it costs us safety Build altars in places others abandon Pray with calloused hands Teach the children to sing freedom songs
You don’t need a pulpit to be a priest. You need only a willingness to carry presence wherever you are.
Closing Prayer
God of scattered peoples,
God of the wilderness and the fire,
Call forth your priesthood from every corner of the Diaspora.
Anoint those who feel forgotten.
Strengthen those who feel unworthy.
Let your glory rise not from cathedrals, but from kitchen tables, street corners, and prison cells.
Let our worship be resistance.
Let our resistance be holy.
Let your presence dwell among the displaced.
And let us remember:
We are not lost.
We are sent.
We are the Diaspora Priesthood.
Amen.
🕊️ Read, reflect, and share.
🎨 Engage with this week’s visuals on Instagram @thestainedglasscollective.
📖 Join us next week for “Stained Glass as Protest.”
🏜️ The Wilderness is Where God Judges and Forms His People
“I will bring you into the wilderness of the nations, and there, face to face, I will execute judgment upon you.”
— Ezekiel 20:35–36
In this sacred in-between, the African Diaspora finds itself.
We are not fully enslaved. But not yet free.
We are post-plantation but pre-Zion.
We are in the wilderness between worlds.
It’s where God calls His people out—not just physically, but spiritually.
Out of survival mode.
Out of empire logic.
Out of borrowed theology.
Here, the remnant is refined—not erased.
🐫 The Wilderness is a Pattern, Not a Place
The wilderness is the ancient pattern of transformation:
Israel wandered 40 years, unlearning Egypt. Elijah fled into it to hear the whisper of God. Yahshua was led there to confront the enemy face-to-face. And now, we are here—facing generational strongholds and prophetic destiny.
The wilderness isn’t a detour. It’s the curriculum of freedom.
✊🏾 The Diaspora is in a Wilderness Moment
We know who we’re not—but not yet who we are.
We are deconstructing, detangling, detoxing.
We’re leaving Babylon but still haunted by its language,
its pace, its God-complex.
We are wandering through:
Unhealed trauma Colonized Christianity Economic bondage Cultural amnesia
But like our ancestors, we are not lost—we are being led.
💧 The Wilderness is Where the Covenant is Renewed
“So I will bring you into the wilderness… I will take note of you as I did your ancestors… and I will bring you into the bond of covenant.”
— Ezekiel 20:35–37
This wilderness is where God renames us.
Reclaims us.
Re-covenants us.
It’s where we stop being “minorities” and start being priests.
Where we stop performing and start remembering.
Where the scattered become sacred again.
🌄 Between Babylon and Zion Lies the Wilderness
This is where we are now.
No longer enslaved, but not yet enthroned.
No longer deceived, but not yet delivered.
But in the wilderness, the truth is loud.
The manna is messy.
The miracles are quiet.
And the promise still waits ahead.
🕯️ Keep Walking
If you are weary—walk.
If you are unsure—walk.
If you are not who you used to be, but not yet who you hope to be—walk.
The wilderness is not your final form.
It’s your proving ground.
Zion still waits.
And every step you take is stained glass in motion.
📖 Read the first post: Babylon Isn’t a City, It’s a System
The Stained Glass Collective 