THEY SAID NOTHING GOOD COULD GROW HERE BUT LOOK AT THIS WILDERNESS IN BLOOM

The following photos were captured by the talented Mitchell Royel, right in the heart of the vibrant and eclectic Fashion District. Each image tells its own story, infused with the energy, creativity, and raw authenticity that this area is so famous for. As you immerse yourself in these visual narratives, we're listening to "Only God Forgives" by Virgin Miri—a track that resonates with a deep, introspective energy, perfectly complementing the evocative mood of Mitchell's work. It's a beautiful alignment of art forms, where music and photography meet to evoke a powerful sense of inspiration and connection. Take a moment to breathe, to feel, and to simply be as you explore this fusion of creativity and soul.

Let us say the thing we've all been too ashamed to whisper: part of us wants them to pay.

“He rode in, dust trailing like whispers of a past undone,
A silhouette against the amber sun, a prince of the storm.
Chaos raged like wildfire, but his eyes held the calm,
A cowboy in the bloom of summer, Christmas in his arms.

He spoke in starlight, his touch the hymn of rain,
And in his shadow, I built a kingdom from pain.
The world still spun reckless, but he tethered my sky,
A fleeting rebellion, my love, my lullaby.

To those still searching, in the storm and the haze,
May your cowboy ride in through your sunlit days.
Hold tight to the hope, for the wild hearts will meet,
Christmas comes for dreamers, and you'll find your sweet.”

“We gather in whispers, in psalms, in prayers,
Threads of grace woven through each other's tears.
The quiet knowing, the sacred call,
Bound by His mercy, we rise from the fall.

Oh, how the heavens tremble with delight,
When daughters of the Kingdom stand in His light.
Not rivaled, but rooted in truth divine,
A sisterhood eternal, a bond that aligns.

We hold the hands of the weary and worn,
A circle unbroken, where faith is reborn.
Through the storms we battle, the fires we face,
Together we walk in His boundless grace.

The Bride unites, her veil cascades,
Made radiant by the love He proclaims.
Christ at the center, we stand as one,
A sisterhood shining beneath the Son.”

Not in the abstract, holy way we're taught to phrase it in Bible study. No. We want to watch it happen. We want the moment when everything they did to us circles back and lands squarely on their doorstep. We've imagined it. We've rehearsed it in the dark. And then we've felt guilty for imagining it at all.

Sisters, put the guilt down. We need to talk.

We were hurt. Truly hurt. Not the kind of hurt that heals over a weekend, but the kind that rearranged us. The kind that changed how we trust, how we sleep, how we walk into rooms.

And now we carry two women inside us. One wants to forgive because she knows she's supposed to. The other wants to burn it all down. Both of them are real. Both of them live in our chests, and some mornings we don't know which one will wake up first.

This is not a flaw in our faith.
This is the war.
And every woman who has ever loved
God and been betrayed by people has fought it.

Bitterness feels like power.
Let's be honest about that.
When we replay what they did, we feel strong for a second — righteous, justified, awake.

But bitterness is a coal we pick up to throw. And while we're holding it, deciding when to let it fly, it's our hands that keep burning.

"Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb." — Psalm 37:1-2

Read that again slowly.
They shall soon be cut down.
We don't have to be the blade.
We never did.

Here is the sentence that will set us free, if we let it sink past our pride and into our bones:

Vengeance was never assigned to us.

"Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." — Romans 12:19

Notice what this verse is really doing. It's not scolding us for wanting justice. It's relieving us of it. God isn't saying our pain doesn't matter. He's saying it matters so much that He's handling it Himself.

We were carrying a weight that was assigned to Someone infinitely stronger than us. Set it down. Our arms were never built for it.

We love to talk about
God as gentle.
And He is.
But we must not mistake
His patience for absence.

"God is jealous, and the Lord revengeth; the Lord revengeth, and is furious; the Lord will take vengeance on his adversaries, and he reserveth wrath for his enemies." — Nahum 1:2

There is a fierceness in the heart of God that most of us never dare to preach. He is not indifferent to what happened to us. He is not looking away. The same God who wept with us also keeps precise account of every wound.

We wanted someone to see it. He saw all of it. Every hidden thing. Every lie they told about us. Every night we cried where no one else was watching.

Here's what the world doesn't understand about consequence. It isn't something we have to arrange. It's already in motion.

"Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." — Galatians 6:7

Every seed they planted is already in the ground. We don't have to water it. We don't have to guard it. We don't even have to be there when it comes up. The harvest belongs to the law God built into the universe long before they ever crossed us.

"To me belongeth vengeance, and recompense; their foot shall slide in due time." — Deuteronomy 32:35

In due time.
Not our time.
Not the timeline our anger wants.
His.

Something shifts in a woman when she finally hands it over.
Not because she suddenly feels warm toward the ones who hurt her.
But because she stops being the warden.

Guarding our resentment is a full-time job. It requires us to stay near the wound, to keep the story fresh, to keep score. Releasing it doesn't mean pretending it didn't happen. It means trusting that Someone better is keeping the books now.

We get to walk out of the courtroom. We don't have to sit there anymore, waiting to testify, waiting for the verdict, aging in the pews of our own bitterness.

He's got it.
We get to go live.

And now hear this over our whole lives, over every weapon that was ever aimed at our names:

"No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord." — Isaiah 54:17

This is not a wish. It is a heritage. It is a legal inheritance, sealed with His name. What was formed against us does not get the final say over our futures. That belongs to the One who calls us His.

So here is our prayer, dear sisters.

May we stop rehearsing revenge and start resting in righteousness. May we feel the strange, holy relief of putting down what was never ours to carry. May we trust that the God who sees is also the God who settles, and that He is never late and never blind.

We do not have to become hard to become strong.
We do not have to hate them to heal.
Let grace be the thing that keeps us soft and lets Him be the thing that keeps us safe.

The account is being kept.
The harvest is already sown.
The weapon will not prosper.

And we, beloved, get to walk free.

With us in it,
Ryder