I’m no angel, and I’ve never claimed to be—but every scar, every battle, and every choice has shaped me into the fighter I am today.
I’m no angel. I never have been, and I never will be. I don’t wear a halo, and I don’t walk around pretending I have wings. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve fallen. I’ve hurt people. Not out of malice but out of my own flaws, my own battles, and my own demons that once had a tighter grip on me than I care to admit.
But let’s get something straight—I’m not the devil either. If I were, I wouldn’t feel the weight of my regrets. I wouldn’t carry the scars of my past like reminders carved into my soul. I wouldn’t wake up every damn day determined to be better than I was the day before. The fact that I still feel that fire burning inside me, that fight to improve, that relentless push forward, proves one thing: I’m still in this battle. And as long as I’m breathing, I refuse to lose.
Life has a way of breaking people. It will drag you down, strip you of everything you thought you knew about yourself, and leave you standing in front of a mirror, forced to face the raw, unfiltered truth. And the truth? It ain’t pretty. It never is. It’s jagged, brutal, and merciless. But truth is also where growth begins. You don’t become stronger by pretending you’ve never been weak. You don’t become wiser by denying your past. And you sure as hell don’t find redemption by pretending you never needed it.
I’ve walked through fire—not just once, but over and over again. The kind of fire that burns deep, the kind that forces you to make a choice: lay down and let the flames consume you, or keep walking and let them forge you into something stronger. I chose to keep walking—every damn time. And no, I never found the pearly gates waiting for me on the other side. I found more trials, obstacles, and lessons waiting to be learned the hard way. And I embraced them all.
Because here’s the thing—this life isn’t about being an angel. It’s not about pretending to be perfect or chasing some illusion of sainthood. It’s about showing up, owning your mistakes, feeling every ounce of pain you’ve caused and endured, and making damn sure you don’t waste it. It’s about turning every scar into wisdom, every regret into fuel, and every misstep into a lesson that makes you sharper, stronger, better.
I don’t need to be a savior. I don’t need to be a saint. What I need to be is real. Real about where I’ve been. Real about the battles I’ve fought. Real about the fact that the only thing separating me from the person I used to be is the choice I make every single day to keep fighting.
And I know I’m not the only one. We all have demons. We all have pasts that haunt us in the quiet moments. But the difference between drowning in them and rising above them? It’s the choice to keep moving. The choice to stop making excuses. The choice to take that pain, that regret, that fire, and use it as fuel to do something that matters.
I’ve had people lift me up when I didn’t deserve it. People who saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself. And that’s what keeps me going. That’s what makes me push forward—not just for me, but for those who are still trapped in their own fire, still thinking they’re too far gone. You’re not. If you’re breathing, you’re still in the fight.
I’ve spent years in law enforcement, corrections, coaching, and mentoring. I’ve seen people at their worst. I’ve seen them broken, beaten down, and ready to give up. And I’ve seen them rise. I’ve watched them claw their way out of hell, piece by piece, choice by choice. That’s why I do what I do. Not because I’m a saint, but because I know what it feels like to be on the edge, to think you’re beyond saving, to believe the lie that you’ll never be anything more than your worst mistakes.
The world doesn’t need more angels. It needs more warriors. More people willing to fight—not just for themselves, but for others. More people willing to own their past, face their demons, and turn their pain into something that makes a difference.
When my final day comes, I won’t be standing there asking if I was good enough to wear a halo. I’ll be asking if I fought hard enough. If I lifted enough people up. If I turned every ounce of pain into something that mattered. And when that moment comes, I won’t be afraid. Because I know I didn’t waste my fire—I used it.
I’m no angel. But I’m still standing. And as long as I’m here, I’ll keep fighting.
Stay disciplined. Stay resilient. Live with PRIDE.
Jim Lunsford
P.S.
This post was inspired by Five Finger Death Punch’s song ‘Judgement Day.’
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