Rule 10: The Discipline of One True Thing

Where you come from shapes how you speak. But what you say defines where you're going.

Photo by Luana Seu

The Gift and the Weight of Words

Throughout my life, I’ve known I’ve been blessed by God with the gift of words—well, not to overdo it, but the gift of Turning Words Into Windows. See what I did there? The ability to turn words into imagery—whether in written form or through oration.

Over time, I’ve worked on this gift. I’ve honed it in the midnight hours when it was just me, God, and mostly a drive to be seen, felt, and heard. For my words to reach into the void and find whatever lived or hid there—and transmute it into purpose. Yet, as I’ve grown older, matured, sat and wrestled with my faith as well as my God, I’ve come to realize that making a statement is often not in the abundance of words, but in the absence of them—in the silent action that follows after the words have been sent and spent.

When you move past words being said just to be heard, messages being sent for validation, and space being filled with loud presence, you find that the best statements are the ones that come from clarity and truth.

Now, I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with making a statement. We do so every day—from what we choose to wear, the way we carry ourselves, the friends we keep, the relationships we encourage, and the patterns of behavior we believe are so entrenched in the fabric of who we are that turning away from them feels like uprooting everything we know about ourselves.

The truth is—and tell me how many times you’ve heard that statement before, whether said by you or someone else—anybody can talk. Anybody can post. Anybody can perform. We see it every day on social media. We see it in our workplaces, where bosses make empty promises that drip from tongues more interested in preserving their image than serving their people. We see it in the way we show up for ourselves—sometimes taking one more hit of the substance we’re addicted to, promising ourselves that this time is the last time.

But what we’re often not told is that a real statement doesn’t come from noise—it comes from clarity. It comes from alignment, not attention. From truth, not validation.

The Two Voices We Carry

On the most basic level, despite the clamoring of voices inside our heads—belonging to family, friends, lovers, mentors—and the ones external, like influencers we follow or content we consume that makes us say “That’s me”, there are really only two voices we ever speak from in this life.

The voice of insecurity. And the voice of integrity.

One true sentence is more powerful than a thousand empty words.

I’ve found that insecurity speaks from a place hoping someone notices—or in most cases, doesn’t notice—the truth of what we carry inside, so we pretend. The voice built on integrity speaks from peace. It accepts our flaws, acknowledges our deficiencies, and still moves forward with the quiet understanding that we are in desperate need of growth—and a love that is unconditional.

Sometimes we speak from insecurity because we don’t believe ourselves capable of change. Or because we haven’t yet found the strength to shake off the weight of stagnation. Insecurity keeps us in the room to preserve our image. Integrity is willing to leave the room—flaws and all, fears and all—still in process, but free.

Time has revealed to me that the loudest person in the room, or the one who glows the brightest, isn’t always the clearest. Volume doesn’t equal vision. Clamor doesn’t equal clarity. And noise doesn’t equal knowing.

I’ve also learned—often the hard way—that just because someone heard you doesn’t mean they understood the cost of what you said. Or the sacrifice behind the statement, especially when it’s born of truth.

Defining Statement

Statement (noun): Something said or done for emphasis or clarity that defines where you stand.

Where noise is performative, statements stand.
Where noise seeks validation, statements ask only for acceptance.

Statements say: Even when integrity’s voice is difficult, I’d rather not be comfortable in my insecurities.

I say this from wrestling with my own wilderness journey, and now sitting in the stillness of what remains after a soul has spent time searching and wandering.

In my life, I’ve oscillated between insecurity and integrity—from the time I was a child in Guyana to the man who now writes this at age 29 from his desk in Jamaica, Queens. From a young age, I could read a room. I could switch tone. Mirror mood. I became fluent in the unspoken—an expert at disarming with charm. I knew how to make myself fit. Whether in the backseat of Debbie’s Toyota Starlet or on the Q46 in New York City.

And for a while, it worked.
No—for a long time, it worked.

I earned positions. I elevated my social standing. I was praised for my presence and respected for my performance.

But the wilderness—and now, the stillness—have taught me what I couldn’t see back then: What looked like mastery was survival. And survival, when it’s extended too long, begins to suffocate.

Why? Because I reached a point where I couldn’t tell if I was speaking because I had something to say—or because I was terrified of being forgotten.

That’s when I heard the message:

Noise keeps you in rooms you’ve outgrown.
But statements set you free from them.

The Cost of Making a Statement

In a world where everyone and everything feels like it’s screaming for your attention—demanding prices you may not be ready to pay—you’ll find that making a statement (because integrity is a statement) will cost you.

Peace born of integrity will cost you—but it won’t break you.

Photo by Luana Seu

You’ll lose people.
You’ll lose opportunities.
You’ll almost certainly lose temporary comfort.

But you won’t lose your soul.

Insecurity is noise pretending to be peace. It convinces you to betray yourself—just to be seen, just to be felt, just to belong. But if you’ve ever betrayed yourself, you already know: that silence is expensive.

There’s a discipline in saying one true thing and leaving it there.
No follow-up. No apology. No orbiting for response.

Just peace—born of integrity—because truth never needs to be said twice.
If it’s accepted, it’s accepted. If it lands, it lands.

We don’t need to manipulate outcomes when we’re like the swallows—resting in the hands of the Master.

So find freedom in clarity.
Let go of the insecurity that comes with control.

Five Scriptures I Carry When I Need to Speak Boldly

1. “Let your yes be yes, and your no be no.” — Matthew 5:37
   Integrity doesn’t stutter—it speaks clearly, and then stands still.

2. “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever.” — Isaiah 40:8
   What’s spoken in alignment with God never fades with time.

3. “For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” — Matthew 12:34
   Your voice reveals what your soul has been storing.

4. “He who guards his mouth preserves his life.” — Proverbs 13:3
   Sometimes, the holiest thing you can say is nothing at all.

5. “Say the word, and my servant will be healed.” — Luke 7:7
   One true word—spoken in faith—can change everything.

Final Thoughts

As you head into this weekend, if you remember nothing else from this entry, take this with you:

Real statements born of integrity don’t shout.
They settle and live in the stillness.
They grow through silence.

God spoke the world into being with a statement: “Let there be light.”
And as we enter the Easter weekend, be reminded that with one statement—“It is finished”—Jesus paid the price for our salvation and reconciled us back to God.

So:

1. Where in your life are you speaking for noise, when you should be resting in clarity?

2. Where have you been repeating yourself, when one clean truth is enough?

3. And where are you still waiting to be heard, when you were called to move like a statement?

I’m learning that the ones who move like statements never have to prove their voice…

Their life becomes the message.