Some questions break you. Not because they are meant to hurt, but because they expose a truth you weren’t ready to confront.
No one had ever asked me this question before. And to make it worse, it came from someone I deeply depend on—someone close, someone I love, someone I thought would always stand with me.
It was about a course I had always wanted to study. A course that he had encouraged me to sign up for. But life had its turns—I had quit my job, spent my last penny, and was at a crossroads. My decision to leave wasn’t reckless; I was choosing family, church, and spiritual growth. I was choosing to break free from an environment where I was constantly looked down on. But that didn’t make the uncertainty any easier.
Then, an email arrived—orientation for my course was scheduled. Hope flickered. Maybe I could still do this. I turned to him and asked, “Should I proceed with it?” And then came the words that shattered me: “With what money?”
I froze. I have lived through struggles, but no one—not even my mother, a single nursery school teacher—ever responded to me like that. She would have told me to wait, to pray, and in the background, she would have moved mountains to make it happen. But this? This was honesty wrapped in a sharp-edged reality. A reality I wasn’t ready for.
I felt my heart sink. Even as I write this, my eyes are swollen from crying. Not because he was wrong, but because he was so painfully right. I was broke. I had nothing. And in that moment, it felt like without money, I was nothing.
But here’s the thing about pain—it ignites something in you. And in me, it sparked a fire so intense that I made a decision: Come Monday, I will be on the hunt for that money. I will pursue it like it’s the last thing I have to do. I will bleed making it if I must. I have even designed a wallpaper for my phone to remind me—every single time I open it—that there is only one mission: MAKE MONEY. No one will ever have the right to tell me what to do unless it pays me.
But then, another voice spoke. The Holy Spirit.
Edith ahurira
He reminded me why I quit my job in the first place—I refused to be a slave to money. The devil is watching, waiting for me to break. He wants me to believe that even the person I trust the most cannot stand by me without money. He wants me to think that my worth is measured in currency. But tonight, I’m taking this battle to the altar. I am reporting my case to my Father in heaven.
The devil will hear from my God.
EDITH AHURIRA
For the next three days, I will fast, I will pray, and I will war in the spirit. This question, “With what money?” will not define me, but it will fuel me. Not just to make money, but to make it on God’s terms. Because if I allow bitterness to consume me, if I let money dictate my worth, I will hurt my son, my future, and my purpose.
So, this is my declaration: I will rise. I will succeed. But I will do it without losing myself. Not as a slave to money, but as a child of God who knows her worth.
And when I look back on this moment, I will see it not as my breaking point, but as the fire that refined me.