It began with a missed call.

A small, silent alert on my phone during a regular office day — but somehow, it felt sacred. She doesn’t usually call, so I rang back straight away. No answer. Just voicemail. I left a message and began to pray in the Spirit, trusting God was already ahead of it all.

Her message came not long after: "I resigned from my job yesterday. Everything was spiralling again. I felt like I was heading for a breakdown. I’m seeing the doctor and a counsellor. I barely slept…”

I recognised the pattern — old pain stirred by fresh pressure. The kind of emotional storm that seems to loop back until something deeper is addressed. I felt compassion rise. And fear too — the nervous wondering if I was enough, wise enough, equipped enough to help.

But God gently nudged me: Do it afraid, if you must. Just show up.

So I did. I offered prayer ministry. I invited her to our Wednesday night Encounter Group. She said yes.

That night, she came. And something began to shift. I could see it in her posture, in her eyes. She left, telling me how much it had resonated. That sacred tenderness was surfacing.

We met for lunch the next day, and she poured out her story. Layers of grief, frustration, and childhood trauma that had been cracked open by recent criticism at work. Her soul was raw, but ready.

A week later, with my faithful friend Esther, we prayed. We held space for Jesus to do what only He can do. And He came, gentle and mighty. Healing wounds. Renouncing expectations, judgments, inner vows and lies. Restoring peace. Speaking truth over the lies she had believed for far too long.

The next morning, I received a message from her:

As I read those words, I wept.

That plaster? 🤔It was her heart. God was revealing that healing had begun — not just on the surface, but deep within. The fierce black dog? 🤔I believe that was the enemy, roaring like he does, trying to intimidate. But she didn’t freeze. She stood in her God-given authority and told it to go. And it obeyed.