Portrayed by Neve Campbell, Sidney Prescott isn’t just the heart of the Scream franchise—she is its conscience, its moral anchor, and its emotional spine. For nearly three decades, she has endured betrayal, trauma, loss, and relentless violence… and still chose to live. With Scream 7 arriving February 27, Sidney’s return invites us to look back—not just at a survivor, but at a woman who reshaped what survival means.

This week’s Tony’s Superhero Saturdays™ honors a different kind of superhero: those who stand against injustice. Protestors. Organizers. Advocates. Elders who marched before hashtags existed. Young people who refuse to inherit silence. Everyday citizens who decide that wrong is still wrong—even when the system says otherwise. These are heroes forged not by power, but by conviction.

Through exhaustion. Through loss. Through disappointment. Through prayers that took longer than you wanted to be answered. Through days where quitting felt reasonable and rest felt unreachable. You are still here. And that alone makes you heroic.

It is divine realignment — the sacred moment when God reaches into the course of your life and turns you gently, firmly, or suddenly in the direction of your destiny.

In Chapter 14 of Book II of S.O.L.A.D.™: Soldiers of Light Against Darkness™, we find one of the most emotionally charged, spiritually rich moments in the entire series. Angeline™, still fighting for her city, has created a powerful force field wrapped in purity bombs to defend the innocent. But something goes wrong. Her body weakens. Her mind frays. She can no longer control the power she’s released. Just when it seems like she might be consumed by the very weapon meant to d

The seeds that cost you the most produce the harvests that change you the most. Anyone can sow what’s left over. But God looks at the seed that comes from the place of sacrifice — the place where giving means trusting Him more than your own strength.

A young cashier takes a deep breath. A stock associate straightens a display for the fifteenth time. A manager wipes stress from their brow as radios crackle with the sound of calls for help. Returns. Questions. Complaints. Crowds that never end. No cape. No mask. No theme music. But if you look closely, you’ll see something undeniably heroic —strength, patience, empathy, endurance, and grace under pressure.

Divine contentment is the supernatural ability to say: “I may not have everything I want, but I have everything I need.” “I may not be where I imagined, but I’m exactly where God is working.” “Even in lack, I am not empty. Even in waiting, I am not behind.” Contentment is knowing that your value is not measured by what you buy, own, or collect — but by who God says you are. And that is the ultimate Black Friday deal: Peace that money can’t buy.

Angelo found his balance quickly, flying like he had always been born for it. But Angeline? She wobbled. She flipped. She trailed behind, struggling to catch up. That moment? That is all of us. There’s a place between obedience and confidence—where we know God is calling us higher, but we feel unstable rising into it. It’s the space between anointing and action, where the air is thinner and faith must be stronger.

There comes a point in every believer’s walk where the weight of life begins to press down on your shoulders. You’re still sowing… but you’re tired. You’re still believing… but you’re weary. You’re still serving… but your strength feels thin. You’re doing all the right things — praying, giving, loving, showing up — but if you’re honest, you’re sowing from a place of exhaustion. And here’s the truth: God sees you. God knows. And God cares.

She moves with the calm certainty of someone who has faced extinction more times than she can count. Her boots hit the metallic floor with deliberate weight. Her armor shifts—ancient Chozo alloys whispering with every controlled breath she takes. The hum of her Arm Cannon builds like a heartbeat finding its rhythm. Outside the ship, below her, the planet waits. Zebes. A graveyard of memories. A crucible of scars. A world that raised her, broke her, and forged her into a myth.

There are seasons when progress feels slow, delayed, or even frozen. You’ve prayed, fasted, worked, believed… yet life seems to be advancing in inches rather than miles. But then — suddenly — God breathes on your life. And what took others a decade takes you a year. What you lost over time, God restores in a moment. What should have broken you becomes the very thing that launches you.

This week, I want to talk to you heart-to-heart about something we all go through, whether we admit it or not: the buried battles. You know what I mean. Those silent struggles. The seasons where it feels like life has shoved you face-first into the dirt and piled more weight on top. You’re not just down—you feel buried. Forgotten. Suffocating. Like the next breath might be your last.