Before you can become, God must first undo you. And it’s in that undoing that a deeper knowing is birthed. I was first undone, and from that undoing I gained the knowledge to become. Then, in my becoming, the knowing was confirmed.

Before I could become who I was meant to be, I had to surrender to the undoing. And if I’m being honest—I ran from it. Because what God wants for us is not always what we want for ourselves. This is why we must “die daily” (1 Corinthians 15:31). By that, I mean putting our flesh to death so that our spirit—the Holy Spirit—can speak louder than the desires of our flesh (Galatians 5:16-17).

God must strip away who you became in the flesh—the person you had to be in order to survive in this world—in order to reveal who He ordained you to be before you ever entered your mother’s womb. “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you” (Jeremiah 1:5). That means God knew the real you before you knew yourself, before the world ever touched you. But somewhere along the way, the world left its fingerprints on us, shaping us into something we were never meant to be.

So, God begins to remove what no longer fits (John 15:2). He prunes us, piece by piece. He asks us to let go of people, places, distractions, coping mechanisms—anything that doesn’t align with His image in us. Sometimes, what He removes is visible. Other times, it’s hidden deep within, woven into our very being. We must allow ourselves to be completely unraveled—like a ball of yarn pulled apart strand by strand—until we are laid bare before the Lord (Psalm 139:23-24). Only then can we truly become kingdom builders, even kingdom leaders.

And here’s the beauty: as God removes, He also restores (1 Peter 5:10). In the undoing, He returns to us parts of ourselves we thought were gone forever—gifts we were born with but never used, abilities we never fully stewarded (1 Peter 4:10). He breathes new life into our spiritual body, not just our physical one. “Behold, I am doing a new thing; do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19). This verse haunted me during my last year of running from God, until I finally stopped resisting the very undoing He wanted to do in me and through me.

The truth? I didn’t stop running because I wanted to. I stopped because who I had become in the world left me broken—crying at night, haunted by trauma, condemned by pain. But when I submitted to the undoing, I found peace (John 14:27). The same things the enemy wanted to use to destroy me became proof of God’s grace (2 Corinthians 12:9) and glory (Romans 8:18) in my life.

The becoming is about making peace with who you were before the undoing. And here’s the thing: the undoing isn’t a one-time event. It’s a lifelong process—constantly laying down things God never meant for us to pick up (Hebrews 12:1).

Through this journey, I’ve learned truths about myself I can’t unlearn. Now, I’m ready to see why the enemy has been after me so hard—why the attacks have been relentless (John 10:10). I’m ready to see the glory that’s attached to my name (Romans 8:30). I’m ready to be like David—shaped in the wilderness, yet destined for the throne (1 Samuel 16:13).

Because God has something better for me than who I was before He started undoing me (Ephesians 3:20). And with that undoing came a knowing:

When you know that God doesn’t hurt you to harm you (Jeremiah 29:11)…

When you know that sometimes the only person standing in your way is you (Proverbs 16:9)…

When you know that you are the one lost sheep He left the ninety-nine to go after (Luke 15:4)…

When you know that He didn’t save your life just to leave you hanging (Deuteronomy 31:6)…

When you know that His Word never returns void (Isaiah 55:11)…

When you know that the same God who kept David will keep you (Psalm 23:4)…

—then you will submit to the undoing, because you’ll see that the undoing is preparation for the crown (James 1:12).

I am called—but more than that, I am dangerously anointed (Isaiah 61:1). That’s why the attack on my life has been so great. That’s why the devil couldn’t kill me.

Molested as a child—God still covered me (Psalm 91:4).

Abused and vulnerable in foster care—God still kept me (Isaiah 41:10).

Struck by a car as a pedestrian—God still saved me (Psalm 121:7).

I lost my first love suddenly to cardiac arrest—God still carried me through the grief, showing me even death comes early. God still comforted me (Psalm 34:18).

After that, I felt even more lost, navigating the world as if nothing existed—sexually assaulted as an adult, forced to continue existing while pain tried to erase me. God still showed up for me (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Car flipped on the freeway—God still saved me (Psalm 34:19).

My baby stolen by her own father—God still kept me, even when I couldn’t keep myself (2 Thessalonians 3:3).

Homeless, sleeping in my car, fighting for custody—God still covered me (Philippians 4:19).

Wanting to die, with nothing left—God still kept me (Psalm 118:17).

And then… God gave me back what the enemy stole (Joel 2:25).

And many of these attacks, I didn’t know God like I know Him now. I didn’t even realize His glory on my life until the last two. When my car flipped, I knew my time was coming—but not in the way I thought then. I thought, like a cat, my nine lives were coming to an end. But with the last attack—the betrayal of my partner and separation from my child, in the back seat of my car homeless—that’s when I surrendered and found God, able to search Him and know Him like I know Him now. And want to know something? This is only the beginning of my knowing.

So I’ll ask you—don’t you want to find out why the attack on your life has been so great? Don’t you want to know what God sees in you—what He formed you to be? Don’t you want to walk in that instead of burning in the fire of this world (1 Peter 4:12-13)?

Don’t you want to be undone… so you can become… and so you can know all that God has in store for you (1 Corinthians 2:9)?