On February 15, 1968, tension was building in Orangeburg, South Carolina. Black students at South Carolina State College were protesting segregation at a local bowling alley. They were unarmed. They were organized. They were disciplined. They were not rioting. They were not looting. They were asking for dignity. Three days later, on February 8, state troopers opened fire on those students, killing three young Black men and wounding many others.

This Favor Fridays with Tony™ — on the 13th day of Black History Month — we honor the favor that turns survival into proclamation, and endurance into testimony. Today, we spotlight Frederick Douglass, a man who understood that sometimes favor doesn’t just free you — it commissions you.

In Chapter 2: Destiny’s Call from Book I of S.O.L.A.D.™: Soldiers of Light Against Darkness™, Kevin Darryl Edwards wakes up shaking. Not from pizza. Not from imagination. Not from random anxiety. But from a recurring dream. Same unknown people. Same key moments. Same message building toward something bigger. And what does Kevin do? He looks out the window at the storm and asks: “God, what are You trying to tell me through these dreams?”

Soldier of Light Against Darkness™, one of the greatest acts of courage is not rebellion—it is refusal. Refusing to bend. Refusing to blend in. Refusing to become what the system expects you to be in order to survive it. Throughout Black history, courage often looked like staying clean in environments designed to soil the soul. And that kind of courage still matters today.

Monday, February 1, 1960, four young Black men sat down at a Woolworth’s lunch counter in Greensboro, North Carolina. They did not raise their voices. They did not raise their fists. They raised their resolve. They sat—and refused to move.

Wars that start as a whisper. A pull. A wave of heaviness that doesn’t make sense. A thought that isn’t yours—but feels like it is. And that’s exactly why the enemy loves the mind. Because if the enemy can win the battle in your head, the rest of your life becomes easier to invade.

Some moments demand everything you have. But Soldier of Light Against Darkness™, one of the hardest assignments God ever gives His people is this: Stand firm when nothing appears to be happening.

There is a kind of faith that doesn’t announce itself. A kind of obedience that doesn’t require affirmation. A kind of devotion that keeps showing up whether anyone is watching or not. This is faith that doesn’t need applause. Not because it’s weak. But because it’s secure.

Ray Kinsella isn’t looking for meaning when the voice comes to him. He’s just walking through his cornfield, living an ordinary life, carrying unresolved questions about his past and his father. And then, out of nowhere, the impossible happens. A voice speaks. It doesn’t identify itself. It doesn’t provide credentials. It doesn’t offer proof. It simply gives instruction. Build… and trust.

Soldier of Light Against Darkness™, 2025 does not require you to carry every experience forward as proof of endurance. Some things were endured so they could be released. The mistake many believers make is assuming that because something survived the year, it must be assigned to the next one.

God says plainly, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you… and when you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned” (Isaiah 43:2). Notice the language. Not if you pass through—but when. Favor does not prevent the fire; it ensures the fire does not consume you.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5) That single truth sits at the center of Christmas. The Light (Jesus) did not wait for darkness to retreat. It entered it — fully, deliberately, lovingly.

Today marks 11 years since my father passed. Yesterday, I stood in Memphis and attended the funeral of my cousin. Life continued. Faith remained. But the weight was present. There are moments when grief doesn’t scream—it sits. It doesn’t demand attention—it simply exists. And faith doesn’t erase those moments. Faith walks through them. This message isn’t about loss taking over. It’s about faith that carries us through loss—steady, grounded, and unbroken.

And then — in the stillness — a child steps forward. No special effects. No background music. No marketing spin. Just Linus. Just Scripture. Just the name of Jesus spoken plainly, confidently, and without apology. That moment alone makes A Charlie Brown Christmas one of the most important pieces of Christmas storytelling ever created.

When the enemy realizes he cannot break you through sudden blows, blatant temptation, or outright fear, he changes tactics. He switches strategies. He moves from destruction to depletion. From attack to attrition. From breaking you to wearing you down.

At first, the pause feels frustrating. It feels confusing. It feels out of rhythm. It feels like a step backward. But for the trained warrior, it becomes revelation: God is not punishing you. He is positioning you. The pause is not about delay — it is about divine alignment. He slows you down not to deny you, but to: protect you, prepare you, strengthen you, refine you, redirect you, or place you exactly where you must be for victory. A divine pause is not a setback. It is a

Mark Waid and Alex Ross’s Kingdom Come (1996) is one of the rare graphic novels that transcends genre. It is a warning wrapped in beauty. A scripture of superheroes. A meditation on justice, mercy, pride, faith, and humanity’s never-ending war between hope and despair.

Nearly 80 years later, this film is still saving people. And in a time where suicide rates continue to rise and people feel more isolated, overwhelmed, or forgotten than ever… the message of this movie is not just relevant. It’s necessary. Today, I want to explore why It’s a Wonderful Life remains a timeless treasure — not because of nostalgia, but because it speaks directly to the human heart.

Sometimes the Commander allows the battlefield to grow dark so He can give you a new kind of sight. Every warrior must learn night vision. Because anyone can see God in sunshine — but it takes a trained soldier to recognize Him in shadows. Dark seasons are not proof of defeat. They are proof of development. They are invitations to deeper vision, sharper discernment, and greater dependence on the Commander’s voice.

God often goes quiet right before the breakthrough, right before the miracle, right before the strike. When the Commander stops speaking, it is not a punishment — it is a positioning. He is not ignoring you…He is preparing you. He is not distant…He is drawing you deeper. He is not silent because He is uninvolved…He is silent because He is working behind the scenes, beneath the surface, and beyond your sight. Silence is not the absence of God — it is the atmosphere before His