Scorched, but Still Green: My Faith is Going to Prepare Me

This Sunday, I got invited by Dr. Alfreda Robinson to worship at Mount Pilgrim, Pastor (Representative) Nicks church (I was just there two weeks ago). The sermon, “Scorched, But Still Green,” landed on me like a word for this season of my life and this season of Arkansas politics.

The message was simple, but not soft: life will scorch you, but it doesn’t get to define you. If your roots are deep enough, you stay green.

That truth matters because I’m heading into a Capitol controlled by a supermajority. I’m not walking in naïve. I know the math. I know the dynamics. I know the pressure to go along to get along. But I also know this: Arkansas doesn’t need more people blending into the wallpaper (for the record, I am just a wallflower at parties). We need leaders willing to keep their color when the heat is on.

The scripture came from Jeremiah... a tree planted by the water, spreading its roots, unafraid of drought, still bearing fruit. That image isn’t just poetic; it’s practical. In politics, drought looks like closed-door deals, “That’s just how it’s done,” excuses (the worst) and policies that benefit some while communities get crumbs.

Being rooted means I don’t draw my strength from approval, party leadership, or political favors. I draw it from people, students, workers, parents, and small business owners who live with the consequences of decisions made far from their kitchen tables. I mean if we’re serious about preparing today’s youth for tomorrow’s jobs, we can’t build policy on shaky soil. We need transparency, accountability, and long-term thinking roots that go deep enough to support real growth.

Getting in the mud is not optional. One line from the sermon cut straight through: “Sometimes you’ve got to put on real muddy boots.” I thought about my duck boots that I keep by the garage door. I wear them when I check the mail or go outside. I wear my muddy duck boots. Because I never really know what the conditions will be. Sometimes I get my neighbors mail and I have to walk across the yard, we have muddy puddles that pool up sometimes and you can't see them until you are up on them.

My boots ain't cute. They are functional. They get the job done. They protect my feet. That’s it. That’s the job.

I’m not running to be ornamental. I’m running to work. And real work sometimes means asking uncomfortable questions, calling out things that may not work in my district, and being the person in the room who won’t look away when things aren't right. That’s what whistleblowing really is, not grandstanding, not drama, but refusing to pretend everything is fine when it isn’t.

When I think of our kids, they don’t need performative politics. They need adults who will fight for safe schools, honest funding, and pathways that don’t dead-end after graduation. If that means getting muddy, so be it. Progress doesn’t happen from the sidelines.

The sermon reminded us that green isn’t just a color; it’s a signal. Green means growth. Green means life is still happening, even when frost hits. Sustainable growth doesn’t come from quick deals or flashy announcements. It comes from nurturing what’s already here: local talent, small businesses, and communities willing to work when given a fair shot. That requires leaders who stay green who don’t dry up when pressure comes, who don’t stop yielding fruit because the environment got tough.

Let’s be honest, in the AR House I would be apart of the minority and being in the minority means you don’t always win the vote. But you can still win the moment. Because I can put truth on the record, force hard conversations others want to avoid and shine light where silence has been convenient.

That’s accountability. That’s stewardship. That’s faith in action.

I’m not going to the Capitol expecting applause, I will be the "new kid on the block". I’m going prepared with roots, resolve, and my muddy boots because the future can’t wait.

We can be scorched by the system and still stay green for the people.

That’s the work.

That’s the calling.

And that’s exactly why I’m running.

So cheers to being more like a pine tree :)

Audrey for Arkansas: Because the Future Can’t Wait.