Isaiah 40:29 says, “He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength.” That Scripture does not shame weakness. It meets weakness with power. It tells us that God is not offended by our exhaustion. He knows when we are running low, and He is able to increase strength in places where human effort has reached its limit.

We often ask God for increase, but we do not always expect increase to make old environments feel tight. We ask for growth, but then we get surprised when old habits no longer satisfy us. We ask for wisdom, but then wonder why certain conversations begin to feel shallow. We ask for purpose, but then become frustrated when God starts pulling us away from things that once had easy access to our time, attention and emotions.

At first, a wake-up call may not feel like favor. It may feel frustrating, embarrassing, inconvenient or painful. It may make you ask why God allowed something to be exposed, interrupted or delayed. But when you look deeper, you may realize that God was not trying to hurt you. He was trying to get your attention before something hurt you more.

But God does not prepare people according to social media timelines. He does not need applause to be working, an audience to develop an anointing or public attention to shape someone for purpose. There are seasons when God hides you, not because He is ashamed of you, but because He is protecting what He is building in you.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, “To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.” That means life is not random. Seasons do not just happen without meaning. Even when we cannot see the reason, God can still use every season to prepare us, protect us, strengthen us, redirect us and bring us closer to the purpose He has placed on our lives.

On the eve of my 18th wedding anniversary with my wife, Tajuana, I find myself grateful. Not casually grateful, but deeply grateful. Grateful for love. Grateful for friendship. Grateful for covenant. Grateful for the journey. Grateful for the laughter, the lessons, the growth and even the challenges that taught us how to keep choosing each other.

On the eve of my 44th birthday, I am reminded that purpose is still calling. There are still words to write. There are still stories to tell. There are still people to encourage. There are still prayers to pray. There are still books to publish. There are still dreams to pursue. There are still platforms to build. There are still lives to impact.

Hebrews 11:6 says, “But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.” That verse reminds us that believing God is not passive. It is not just religious language. It is a posture of the heart that says, “God, I trust You are real, I trust You are present, and I trust You are working even when I cannot fully explain what You are doing.”

It is about honoring men and women who sacrificed their lives in military service so that others could live in freedom. It is about remembering people who left home wearing a uniform and never returned the same way—or never returned at all. It is about recognizing that many of the freedoms we casually enjoy every day came with a cost paid by somebody else.

Today, on my mother Marjorie Reed’s birthday, I am reminded of how deeply God favored me by allowing her to be my mother. Not just because she gave birth to me. Not just because she raised me. But because she believed in me. She saw something in me early. She nurtured what was there. She paid attention to the things that made me come alive.

When God favors us with mothers and mother figures, He gives us something powerful. He gives us nurture. He gives us covering. He gives us wisdom. He gives us correction. He gives us warmth. He gives us somebody who can see what we need before we know how to ask for it. And even when the relationship is imperfect, complicated or absent, the need for mothering still speaks to something God placed deep within the human heart.

Closure feels like it should be part of healing. It feels like you should get the final conversation, the truthful explanation, the apology, or at least enough understanding to move forward without feeling like pieces are missing. But life does not always give us clean endings. Sometimes the chapter closes before we are ready. Sometimes people leave without explaining. Sometimes answers never come.

What makes that moment so powerful is not just the revelation itself, but what it does to your perspective. The way you see that person changes. The way you understand that situation changes. Even the way you see yourself can begin to shift. What once felt normal now feels questionable. What once felt secure now feels uncertain. And that internal shift creates a kind of tension that can be difficult to sit with.

If you’re not careful, you’ll start questioning yourself. You’ll wonder if something is wrong with you, if you’re being distant, if you’re overthinking. But what if none of that is true? What if what you’re experiencing isn’t confusion—but growth?

Not every situation that feels like it deserves a reaction actually requires one. Not every emotion needs to be expressed the moment it’s felt. Proverbs 29:11 reminds us that “a fool gives full vent to his spirit, but a wise person holds it back.” That doesn’t mean you don’t feel it. It means you don’t let every feeling have control over your actions.

This 27th day of Women’s History Month, I found myself thinking about that kind of impact. Not just the women we celebrate publicly—the pioneers, the trailblazers, the ones whose names are etched into history—but the women whose influence is personal. The ones whose presence didn’t just pass through your life… It stayed. It shaped. It settled into who you became.

This Favor Fridays with Tony™, and on the 20th day of Women’s History Month, we spotlight a woman who refused to wait for permission from a world that told her “no.” A woman who didn’t just chase her dreams… She flew above every barrier placed in her way. Her name was Bessie Coleman and her story is a masterclass in what it looks like when favor meets fearless faith.

Spaces where imagination is celebrated. Spaces where creativity flourishes. Spaces where people who might feel “different” in everyday life suddenly realize they are surrounded by thousands of people just like them. Comic conventions—better known as comic cons—are one of those spaces. And on this Friday the 13th, it feels especially fitting to talk about the favor of safe spaces for creativity, fandom, and joy.

On this sixth day of Women’s History Month, we honor the remarkable legacy of Nannie Helen Burroughs, an educator, leader, and visionary who built one of the most transformative educational institutions for Black women in American history. At a time when Black women were systematically denied access to opportunity, Burroughs refused to accept the idea that doors had to remain closed. Instead, she built new ones.

This 27th day of Black History Month, we honor the extraordinary courage of Ida B. Wells, a journalist, educator, and anti-lynching crusader who confronted one of the darkest realities in American history — racial terror disguised as justice. She did not confront it with weapons. She confronted it with words. And in doing so, she revealed something powerful: Truth, when anchored in conviction, becomes spiritual warfare.