There it was, arching gently across the sky as I approached the church last night — a soft, holy ribbon of colour stretched like a promise over the road. The air still held the scent of rain, as though heaven had breathed out moments earlier. The light touched everything with a quiet glow. My heart felt that familiar stirring, the one that whispers, "I am here." It felt fitting that a rainbow greeted me on the way to our Encounter Group, especially since this gathering is a space where hearts are tended, tears are honoured, and Jesus is invited to meet us in our breaking. I had prepared the room, prayed over the chairs, and waited with expectation for those who were registered. Only one arrived. Two sent apologies. The rest simply never came. I will be honest — disappointment brushed against my heart, like a cold wind sneaking under a closed door. I felt the ache of it, the wondering, the labour of love that sometimes feels unseen. Yet as I sat with that single precious attendee, a tender truth rose within me, steady and bright. Jesus always goes after the one. 📖 "What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he loses one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost until he finds it?" — Luke 15:4 (NKJV) He never measured ministry by numbers, crowds, or applause. He measured it by love. He went where the need was. He lingered with the overlooked. He made time for the heart in front of Him. Last night, I was reminded that His way is still the same. My calling is not to gather many, but to show up faithfully for whoever comes. Even if it is only one. Especially if it is only one. As I drove home, that rainbow stayed with me — a quiet arch of covenant, a reminder that God keeps His promises even when attendance is thin and hope feels small. The sky seemed to say, "Trixi, love the one in front of you. I see every seed you sow. Nothing is wasted." 💡 Reflection • Where have you felt unseen or disappointed recently, and what might Jesus be whispering to you in that place? 🤔 • How has God used moments of "smallness" to reveal His heart to you? 🤔 • What does faithfulness look like in the quiet, hidden assignments He entrusts to you? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am held, led, and strengthened by the God who treasures the one. My small offerings matter in His Kingdom. Nothing done in love is ever wasted. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, thank You for meeting me on the road with a rainbow of promise, and again in the quiet room where only one heart arrived. Teach me to honour the ministry of the small, the unseen, and the deeply precious. Strengthen me to show up with love, grace, and expectancy, trusting that You are always at work. Bless every person who longs for healing, and guide me to be Your hands and heart for whoever You bring. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. I carry this truth forward tonight: even when attendance falters, purpose does not. Jesus meets us in the one, and that is enough.

There are moments when something small brushes against an old wound and the whole heart flinches. It may be a tone of voice, a memory, a silence, or a look that echoes the ache of another time. These are not signs of failure, they are gentle indicators of where God is longing to pour His healing. Triggers reveal the places where our stories were interrupted, the corners of the heart where fear or shame still whispers, the moments where we learned to protect rather than trust. They uncover what still hurts so that mercy can enter the very fracture we once hid. Scripture reminds us that truth is not a weapon against us, it is the doorway to our freedom: 📖 "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." — John 8:32 (NKJV) The truth that heals is not cold or clinical. It is the truth spoken by the One who sees us with unwavering compassion. Jesus does not expose the wound to shame us; He reveals it to restore us. Each trigger is an invitation into deeper honesty with Him, a holy summons into the places we have long carried alone. Sometimes the shaking is not about the present moment at all. It is the echo of a younger version of ourselves still waiting to be comforted, still waiting to be held. When we allow Holy Spirit to enter that memory, that emotion, that unfinished chapter, He begins to unravel the lie and replace it with His truth. Healing is the journey from reaction into revelation, from panic into presence, from hiding into being known. It is the slow, sacred process in which God turns the trembling of our hearts into testimony. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) Your triggers do not disqualify you. They are the very places where heaven is most near. They show you where the trauma once lived, so that His truth can finally set you free. 💡 Reflection • What recent trigger might be pointing to an old wound that still longs to be healed? 🤔 • Where do you sense Holy Spirit inviting you to look beneath the reaction and into truth? 🤔 • What would it look like to respond with compassion to the younger version of yourself in that moment? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I honour the stirred places of my heart, recognising them not as signs of weakness but as invitations into deeper healing. God meets me in every fracture with tenderness and truth. 🙌 Prayer Holy Father, thank You for the gentle way You reveal the places within me that still ache. Help me to see triggers not with shame but with hope, trusting that each one marks a place where Your healing is drawing near. Guide me into truth, surround me with Your compassion, and restore every hidden wound with Your love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a worship that rises from the hidden cracks of a heart that has been stretched, pressed, and undone. It is not the kind of worship that fills a room with sound, although it may. It is the quiet offering of a soul that has walked through fire and still turns its face toward God. It is the trembling yes, the whispered hallelujah, the lifted eyes that refuse to be dimmed by sorrow. This worship is not loud, yet it is honest. It is not perfect, yet it is surrendered. It is not effortless, yet it is faithful. It carries the fragrance of someone who has every reason to step back, every reason to close their heart, every reason to give up, yet chooses instead to lean into the One who has never let them go. 📖 "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart — these, O God, You will not despise." — Psalm 51:17 (NKJV) God treasures this kind of worship because it is not built on feelings; it is built on love. It is the choice to let His goodness speak louder than pain, His truth speak louder than lies, His nearness speak louder than the echoes of old wounds. This is the worship of the brave. The worship of the ones who show up even when their hearts feel heavy. The worship of those who know that obedience in the valley is as holy as praise on the mountaintop. It is the sound of trust taking root in the dark soil of adversity. It is here — in the breaking, in the stretching, in the surrender — that worship becomes pure. It becomes the very place where heaven bends low, where the Holy Spirit breathes comfort into the cracks, where Jesus Himself draws near to the crushed in spirit. 📖 "The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit." — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection • Where has God invited you to worship through your weakness rather than your strength? 🤔 • What part of your heart feels too tender to offer, and what would it look like to bring that place to God today? 🤔 • How might your worship shift if you saw brokenness not as disqualification but as offering? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation Your worship, even in the days when it feels small or strained, is precious to God. He receives every trembling note, every quiet surrender, every lifted gaze. You are held, cherished, and met in the very place where your heart feels least capable. Nothing offered in love is ever overlooked by Him. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, thank You for meeting me in the places where I feel fragile and worn. Teach me to worship from a heart that is surrendered rather than striving. May my offering be pleasing to You, not because it is perfect, but because it is honest. Draw near to my broken places and fill them with Your light. Strengthen my trust, steady my steps, and let my life be a continual song of love to You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There are moments when the human soul feels as though it sinks beneath its own weight, when sorrow lingers like morning mist and hope appears dim and far away. Scripture reminds us that our battles are not only flesh and blood, that the unseen realm touches us more deeply than we often realise. Depression, through the lens of Dr Henry W. Wright and the A More Excellent Way teachings, is not merely a diagnosis; it is a tender signal that something in the spirit has been wounded, silenced, or separated from the Source of life. 📖 "A merry heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones." — Proverbs 17:22 (NKJV) This understanding does not dismiss the chemical or physiological reality. It simply lifts the veil to show that behind the imbalance lies a deeper spiritual disconnection — one Christ longs to heal. Spiritual Roots of Depression Depression is not seen as a flaw or a failure; it is the soul’s cry for reconciliation. These teachings describe depression as the emotional and physiological expression of conflict within the spirit. When the heart is burdened by a distorted sense of self, unresolved fear, or broken connection, the body follows the lead of the inner life. 1. The Wound of Self-Rejection At the very centre is a fractured relationship with one’s own identity. Self-rejection, self-hatred, guilt and suicidal thoughts tear at the fabric of belonging. When a person cannot accept themselves, the body begins to interpret life through this inner war. The hypothalamus senses the emotional conflict; the limbic system interprets it; the pineal gland slows the release of serotonin. Suddenly the body bears witness to the unseen battle. The result is not weakness but deep weariness — a tiredness of the soul that spills into the body. Unloving spirits and accusation deepen this chasm, turning the heart inward against itself. 2. Separation on Three Levels Depression often arises where connection has been starved: • separation from God and the comfort of His love • separation from oneself through guilt or condemnation • separation from others through broken relationships When these distances widen, the heart feels unsafe. The body responds in kind. 3. Fear, Anxiety, and the Unquiet Heart Fear stands as a powerful architect in the unseen realm. It shapes thought patterns, alters brain chemistry, and slowly drains hope. When fear and anxiety go unresolved, the body compensates by reducing serotonin. What begins spiritually becomes encoded in neurochemistry. Yet heaven has always understood that the origin lies deeper than the brain; it begins in the story of the heart. 📖 "Perfect love casts out fear." — 1 John 4:18 (NKJV) 4. Generational Legacies Many walk beneath weights they did not choose. The absence of nurturing in childhood leaves unseen fractures. Patterns of abandonment, harshness, or emotional distance echo through generations. Familial spirits reinforce the lie: You are not wanted. You are not enough. You do not belong. Bipolar or manic depression is often described in these teachings as the fruit of many generations of men who could not, or did not, provide safety and acceptance. Christ stands ready to break every pattern the enemy has woven through bloodlines. The Chemical Component — Not Denied, but Completed Traditional medicine describes depression as a chemical imbalance involving serotonin, dopamine, or norepinephrine. This is true, yet it is not the whole story. The spiritual perspective teaches that the chemistry follows the state of the soul. Medication can stabilise the imbalance, but it does not reach the origin of the wound. Peace cannot be manufactured by pharmaceuticals because peace is a Person. The Holy Spirit does what no prescription can. Antidepressants can help a person breathe while the deeper work begins. They simply cannot offer the wholeness that comes from spiritual healing. The Pathway to Overcoming Depression Healing begins when the roots are gently lifted from the soil. 1. Reconciliation • Returning to God and receiving His love • Accepting oneself as He created • Restoring relationships where possible 2. Repentance Repentance is not punishment. It is a turning toward life. It breaks the enemy’s legal right to accuse and afflict. 3. Ownership and Authority Depression is not destiny. Taking ownership restores authority. Choosing the law of God — truth, love, and peace — uproots the spiritual forces that shaped the emotional climate. 4. Renewing the Mind Scripture becomes medicine for the soul. Gospel truth rewrites the pathways shaped by fear and rejection. The Word silences the unloving spirit and restores identity. 📖 "Be transformed by the renewing of your mind." — Romans 12:2 (NKJV) A Picture to Understand It Imagine your emotional life as a garden. Self-hatred, fear, rejection, and guilt are like invasive weeds. They poison the soil and twist the roots. The body’s chemistry responds to the condition of the soil. Medication is the fertiliser that helps a plant survive the poisoned soil. Spiritual healing — repentance, reconciliation, truth — is what removes the weed so the garden can flourish again. Christ does not shame the weary garden. He kneels in the soil, lifts the broken stems, and tends the roots with tenderness. My Testimony — Delivered From the Spirit of Heaviness There was a time when depression was the air I breathed. It wrapped itself around me so early in life that I believed it was part of my personality. I lived beneath a cloud I could not name, a heaviness that never left. Suicidal thoughts were not occasional intruders; they were familiar shadows that whispered at the edges of my days and pressed in during the nights when I felt alone and unseen. There were seasons when I honestly did not know how I would make it through another day. I carried blame that was not mine. I wore shame like a second skin. All the while I served, loved, raised a family, ministered, and showed up for life — yet inside, I was drowning quietly, believing that if people truly knew my thoughts, they would turn away. I tried everything the world offered: self-help, counselling, distractions, strength, sheer will, and years of pretending to be fine. Nothing reached the root. Everything changed when the Holy Spirit began to reveal the spiritual roots beneath the symptoms. He uncovered the layers of self-hatred I did not even recognise as such. He exposed the fear, the inherited patterns, the rejection, the silent agreements I had made with the enemy. He showed me the generational grief I had absorbed as a child. He did not shame me for it. He simply said, “This is not who you are.” As I began to repent, renounce, forgive, and receive truth, something miraculous happened. The heaviness began to break. The intrusive thoughts lost their power. The despair that once felt permanent started dissolving. The cloud lifted. For the first time since childhood, I experienced days of pure light. Hope did not feel foreign anymore. Peace became my normal, not the exception. Joy returned not as a fleeting emotion but as a steady undercurrent in my spirit. God delivered me. Not all at once, but faithfully, layer by layer, root by root. He replaced the spirit of heaviness with the garment of praise. 📖 "To console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." — Isaiah 61:3 (NKJV) I am living proof that depression is not a life sentence. It is not your identity. It is not the final chapter. Christ heals what medicine cannot reach. He restores what was broken before you ever knew how to name it. He delivers the captives, even when the prison bars were invisible. I once lived in the shadows. Today I live in His light. That is the power of Jesus. That is the mercy of God. That is the testimony I carry. Conclusion: A More Excellent Way The thread woven through these truths is simple yet profound: our physical health is deeply connected to our spiritual well-being. Our relationships with God, ourselves, and others profoundly influence the health of our bodies. This perspective does not reject medicine; it expands the conversation. It invites us to consider the roots beneath the symptoms, the stories beneath the pain, and the spiritual pathways that may be shaping our physical lives. It asks a gentle but powerful question: • Are you weighed down by physical issues that medicine has no answers for?🤔 • What if lasting health requires not only treating the body but healing the spirit?🤔 • Could this be the more excellent way?🤔 • May I gently encourage you to consider exploring the spiritual roots that may be influencing your health?🤔 Some profoundly insightful resources that shaped my own healing journey are: • Deliverance and Inner Healing by John Loren Sandford and Mark Sandford • Transforming the Inner Man by John Sanford • Elijah House Prayer Ministry • A More Excellent Way (https://amzn.to/4p9wJCt) by Dr Henry W. Wright • Exposing the Spiritual Roots of Disease (https://amzn.to/3XXe6pc) by Dr Henry W. Wright You can also visit Dr. Wright's Be in Health website for more teaching, testimonies, and helpful resources: https://www.beinhealth.com/ Sometimes the key we have been searching for is not in the body but in the heart — and healing begins the moment truth meets the hidden places we did not know were still hurting. 🙌 Prayer Father God, thank You for being the One who sees into the deepest parts of my heart. Thank You for lifting me out of the heaviness that once defined me and for breaking the chains that held me captive for so many years. I praise You for replacing despair with hope, darkness with light, and confusion with clarity. I ask that You continue to heal every place within me that still needs Your touch. Wrap me in Your peace, renew my mind through Your Word, and anchor my identity in Your unfailing love. May my testimony bring comfort, courage, and deliverance to others who are walking through the valley of heaviness. Let every word point back to Your glory, Your goodness, and Your redeeming power. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Today I felt a gentle stirring in my spirit, reminding me that I am sitting right in the middle of God’s goodness. Not because everything around me is easy, predictable, or comfortable, but because His presence has been carrying me in ways I have not always recognised. As I look back, I see the quiet trails of His mercy woven through the details of my days. The whispered prayers I prayed through tears, the ones I thought evaporated into the air, found answers in unexpected ways. People appeared at the exact moment my heart felt fragile, as if heaven nudged them toward me, offering comfort, truth, or simply presence. The heartbreaks that once felt like they would undo me somehow became places where healing eventually found me, even when I didn’t know how to begin. Even on the nights when fear felt too heavy, something in me kept breathing, kept trying, kept reaching. None of that was accidental. Every moment was held. His goodness has never been reserved only for the comfortable seasons. It has lived just as faithfully in the disorienting ones. The hard places shaped me, deepened me, and strengthened the core of my faith in ways peace never could. His grace has been the reason I survived what should have broken me. It is the reason I stand where I stand today. Now, as I begin to notice His fingerprints in the places that once felt chaotic or confusing, I understand something profound: I have not walked a single moment alone. His goodness has been my shelter, my strength, my unseen support. I see now how His hand was present even in the chaos, weaving redemption through threads I once thought were fraying beyond repair. I see how He never left me for a single heartbeat. And something in me whispers, If His goodness carried me this far, it will also carry me forward. 📖 "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life." — Psalm 23:6 (NKJV) Tonight, I rest in that. His goodness behind me. His goodness beneath me. His goodness ahead of me. His goodness all around me. 💡 Reflection • Where have I seen small or hidden signs of God’s goodness in this season? 🤔 • Which answered prayers have I overlooked because they arrived quietly? 🤔 • What difficult moments shaped me in ways I now recognise as grace? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am surrounded, upheld, and gently led by the goodness of God. Nothing in my story has been wasted, and nothing in my future is without His care. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the goodness that holds me even when I cannot see it. Thank You for every quiet mercy, every unseen protection, and every answered prayer that carried me to this moment. Teach my heart to recognise Your hand in all things and to rest in the certainty that You are with me. May Your goodness continue to lead me forward, shaping me with grace and strengthening me with hope. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The body is more honest than the tongue. It carries what the heart cannot voice and what the mind has learned to hide. Every ache tells a story. Every tight place remembers something the soul once survived. Yet none of these messages come to shame us. They are invitations — tender signals that a loving God is ready to meet us in the places we have buried the deepest. 📖 "For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." — Psalm 139:13–14 (NKJV) This body map is not meant to diagnose but to illuminate. It is meant to restore the language between your heart and your frame, so healing can flow where pain has made its home. 1. Hips — The Deep Wells of Grief & Held Emotion Some emotions sit so deep they never find words. The hips, with their strong protective muscles, often cradle grief we did not feel safe to release. Tears stored here create pressure, tightness, and unexpected weeping when stretched. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) Jesus comes to the hips to loosen what sorrow tightened. He whispers, “You are safe now. Let the tears fall.” 2. Shoulders — Carriers of Burdens Never Meant to Be Yours Responsibility becomes heavy when it is carried alone. The shoulders clench when life feels like a weight, long before the mind admits its exhaustion. 📖 "Cast your burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain you." — Psalm 55:22 (NKJV) Jesus invites you to lay down what was never yours to carry. The weight lifts when the heart returns the burden to its rightful place — His hands. 3. Lower Back — Fear of Instability & the Ache of Uncertainty When the foundations of life shake — finances, relationships, belonging — the lower back braces. It stiffens as though trying to hold up a crumbling world. 📖 "My God shall supply all your need…" — Philippians 4:19 (NKJV) Jesus steadies what feels fragile. He becomes the support you feared you lacked. 4. Jaw — Silenced Anger & Words Never Spoken The jaw tells the truth about what we never said. Clenching at night is the soul’s attempt to voice emotions that were never welcomed. 📖 "Let all bitterness, wrath, anger… be put away from you." — Ephesians 4:31 (NKJV) Jesus meets the jaw with permission. Permission to feel, to speak, to heal, to release. 5. Chest — The Chamber of Heartbreak & Sorrow The chest tightens to guard unprocessed sadness. Shallow breath. Constricted ribs. Protection born of past pain. 📖 "Hope deferred makes the heart sick." — Proverbs 13:12 (NKJV) Jesus breathes new life into constricted places. He restores hope where disappointment made a home. 6. Neck — Misalignment, Inner Conflict & Truth Unspoken The neck connects what you think with what you live. Tension here often reveals the cost of self-betrayal or the pain of living against your convictions. 📖 "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." — John 8:32 (NKJV) Jesus aligns the soul with truth. He breaks the bondage of silence. 7. Stomach — Anxiety, Dread & Trauma Stored in the Gut The stomach is the second place emotions speak loudly. Nausea, knots, churning — signs that the nervous system is carrying more than the heart can hold. 📖 "Be anxious for nothing…" — Philippians 4:6–7 (NKJV) Jesus calms storms hidden beneath the ribs. He speaks peace into the places fear has lived longest. 8. Hands — Control, Overwhelm & the Fear of Letting Go Clenched fists. Restless fingers. Hands that cannot relax often belong to a heart afraid of losing control. 📖 "Be still, and know that I am God." — Psalm 46:10 (NKJV) Jesus gently unfurls the fists. He teaches the heart that surrender is not loss — it is freedom. 9. Knees — Resistance to Change & Fear of Surrender The knees bend so we can move forward… and so we can bow. When change feels threatening, the knees stiffen. 📖 "Trust in the Lord… and He shall direct your paths." — Proverbs 3:5–6 (NKJV) Jesus strengthens knees that tremble. He leads you into new seasons with holy courage. 10. Sinuses — Tears you were never allowed to release This tender region often holds the sorrow we learned to “hold together” for the sake of others. Congestion, pressure, or recurring sinus discomfort can reflect grief that was stifled, emotions pushed down, and moments where you were expected to stay strong when your heart longed to weep. The face carries the ache of what was never expressed, while God gently calls those hidden tears into His healing light. 📖 "You number my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle; are they not in Your book?" — Psalm 56:8 (NKJV) As I sit with this tender truth, I recognise how deeply my own body once spoke the language of unhealed pain. This visual map is not distant or theoretical for me. It mirrors my lived experience. For so many years, my body carried the weight of trauma in the hips that ached without reason, shoulders that felt permanently braced for impact, and a lower back that tightened whenever uncertainty came near. My jaw clenched through the nights, my chest held sorrows I could not yet name, my stomach churned with anxieties I didn’t understand, my hands gripped the world as though everything depended on me, and my knees locked in fear whenever change approached. This is exactly how my body carried most of my trauma. Yet as I have walked with Jesus through healing over these past five years, something holy has unfolded within me. Each area of pain has softened. Each knot of fear has loosened. Each burdened place has slowly begun to breathe again. Healing has not been instant; it has been sacredly gradual. Layer by layer, the Holy Spirit has touched the hidden corners of my story and brought release where there was once tension, hope where there was once dread, and comfort where there was once silence. I stand today with deep gratitude, knowing I have experienced huge improvement in all these once-painful places. My body is no longer a battlefield. It is becoming a sanctuary. This journey is a reminder that God wastes nothing. Even the body’s cries become pathways to healing when placed in His gentle hands. 💡 Reflection Prompts Sit quietly with the Holy Spirit and ask: • Which part of my body speaks the loudest today? 🤔 • What emotion might be stored there that I have not acknowledged? 🤔 • Jesus, what truth do You want to speak into this place? 🤔 • Who or what do I need to release into Your hands? 🤔 • What memory do You want to heal as You touch this part of my body? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation My body is not betraying me; it is revealing where my heart needs gentleness. Jesus is healing me from the inside out. I am safe, held, and deeply loved. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, my Healer, Thank You for crafting my body with such wisdom and tenderness. Thank You for the way it speaks when my words fall silent. I invite You into every tight place, every ache, every story written beneath my skin. Touch the grief in my hips, the burdens on my shoulders, the fear in my back, the silence in my jaw, the sorrow in my chest, the misalignment in my neck, the anxiety in my gut, the control in my hands, and the resistance in my knees. Heal me layer by layer, memory by memory, breath by breath. Restore my body to peace, my soul to wholeness, and my heart to the freedom You designed for me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

I have begun to notice something tender and unsettling within myself, a truth rising quietly from beneath the surface of everyday conversations. Whenever I feel unheard or dismissed, my voice lifts without thought, as though volume could carve me a place in the moment. It is not anger that drives the sound higher; it is longing — the ache to be seen, understood, and held with care. Arguments often begin long before words are spoken. They start in the hidden places where emotions run amok after feeling invalidated, overlooked, or pushed aside. Conflict becomes the language we slip into when connection feels too far away, and sometimes the trembling of our raised voices is simply the sound of a wounded heart reaching outward. In those moments, my husband hears fighting, although my heart is quietly pleading, "Please hear me. Please see me." I never set out to battle him; I simply want to bridge the gap between us. It is striking how so much of our tension has nothing to do with disagreement and everything to do with longing. Scripture reminds me that our words carry profound weight, shaping the spaces between us: 📖 "A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." — Proverbs 15:1 (NKJV). I am learning that the softness Scripture speaks of is not weakness; it is wisdom. It is self-awareness. It is the gentle strength of pausing long enough to ask, "What is my heart really trying to say?🤔" The Holy Spirit continues His faithful work in these areas, drawing me inward before I move outward. He reminds me that healing invites honesty, yet also invites humility; that I can stand in truth without needing to shout; that I can share my feelings without fearing dismissal. Healing teaches us that volume is often a form of self-protection and that the fundamental transformation begins when safety grows in the relationship. When I look beneath the raised voice, I find tenderness. When I look beneath the frustration, I see fear. When I look beneath the conflict, I find longing for connection. These discoveries do not shame me; they free me — showing me that the deeper story is not about anger, but about yearning. 💡 Reflection • Where have I raised my voice this week because my heart felt unseen or unheard? 🤔 • What emotions sit beneath my loudest moments, and what do they say about my needs? 🤔 • How might I communicate my pain with gentleness rather than volume? 🤔 • What would it look like to slow down and recognise the longing beneath another person’s defensiveness? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am learning to speak from my heart rather than from my hurt, and God is teaching me how to create connection instead of conflict. I am held, understood, and strengthened as I grow. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the gentle ways You reveal truth within me. Teach me to recognise the tender places that rise when I feel unheard. Fill my words with grace, patience, and clarity. Help me to respond with wisdom rather than reaction, and to see the needs beneath the voices of those I love. May my home become a place where understanding grows and connection deepens. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Silence is not always a shutting out. Sometimes it is a trembling "I need a moment" whispered by a soul trying to breathe again. It is emotional self-protection, a pause to steady the heart when old wounds flare and the past rises louder than the present. The difficulty is that our silence, though meant to shield us, can feel like rejection to someone else. Human hearts interpret absence through the lens of their own history, so what we intend as retreat for safety may be received as abandonment or dismissal by others. This is the tension we carry when brokenness meets relationship: our wounds do not stay contained within us, they ripple outward and touch others too. There is mercy when we recognise this. Healing begins when we bring our inner world into the light with gentleness, inviting understanding rather than leaving others to guess. There is grace when we say, "I am quiet because I am tender, not because I am turning away." There is restoration when we choose compassion for ourselves and compassion for the one who misreads our silence. 📖 "A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." — Proverbs 15:1 (NKJV) Softness is not weakness. It is the courage to speak truth with kindness, to name what hurts, and to remain present without hiding behind walls that feel safer than connection. You are learning to steward your heart with wisdom. You are learning that boundaries are not barriers, and that healing invites honest conversations, not silent suffering. May God meet you in the quiet, steady you with His peace, and teach you how to navigate both vulnerability and love in ways that honour Him and bring life to your relationships. 💡Reflection • Where have I mistaken someone’s silence for rejection, and what deeper story might have been hidden beneath it? 🤔 • When do I withdraw to protect my heart, and how might I communicate that tenderness more gently? 🤔 • What does God want to teach me about giving and receiving grace in the quiet spaces of relationship? 🤔 🎺Affirmation I am learning to navigate silence with wisdom and grace. My heart is held, understood, and guided by God, who brings clarity where confusion once lived. I am growing into deeper compassion for myself and those I love. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, thank You for meeting me in the quiet and giving language to the places I struggle to express. Teach me to honour my heart without causing unnecessary pain to others. Grant me courage to share gently when I am tender, and wisdom to discern when silence is necessary for healing. Let Your peace govern my responses and Your love fill the spaces where misunderstanding once lived. Restore connection where distance has formed and guide me into relationships marked by truth, grace, and compassion. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Silence is not the cold shoulder; it is emotional self‑protection. 💫 It is the cave we crawl into when our inner landscape feels too overwhelming to expose. It is the trembling pause where we try to steady ourselves, hoping the world will wait long enough for our breathing to return to normal. Silence can be a shield, a soft retreat, a way to survive when the heart feels too bruised to speak. Although I know silence can be a form of self‑protection, it has also been the very thing that pierced me most deeply. Over the years, Mum and Dad’s silence has not felt peaceful or neutral. It has felt like being ignored, rejected, and abandoned. Their quietness became a language of absence, a message that whispered, You are too much, you are unseen, your feelings do not fit here. A child does not interpret silence as exhaustion or uncertainty; a child interprets silence as unworthiness. That kind of silence weaves itself into the soul. It becomes the lens through which we view every pause, every unanswered message, every moment when connection feels distant. It shapes how we protect ourselves, how we relate, how we love, how we hide. The very silence that wounded me became the silence I later used to survive. Yet the sad reality is that in our wounding, we wound others. Silence, meant to guard our fragile places, can land as rejection. Withdrawal, meant to bring calm to the storm within, can be felt by others as abandonment or dismissal. This is something I may have inadvertently done to those closest to me — especially my husband and children — when I retreated into my pain. I never meant to shut them out; I was trying to keep myself from falling apart. My silence was not punishment. It was a trembling attempt to find ground beneath me. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) 📖 "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take care of me." — Psalm 27:10 (NKJV) These verses sit together like gold lines of kintsugi, mending what broke long before I had words for it. God sees the quiet places where human love failed us, and He steps gently into the void. Jesus does not shame us for the ways we learned to survive. He honours the child who felt alone, and He tends to the adult who still hears echoes of that loneliness. Healing begins when we allow ourselves to tell the truth — the truth about where silence protected us, and the truth about where silence wounded us. Awareness is not condemnation; it is an invitation. An invitation into repair, restoration, and re‑learning how to stay present without abandoning ourselves or others. 💡 Reflection: • Where has silence been a shield for you, and where has it been a wound? 🤔 • What childhood beliefs rise up when someone grows quiet? 🤔 • How have your earlier experiences shaped the way you respond to loved ones today? 🤔 • What might Jesus be whispering to the younger you who felt unseen? 🤔 • What gentle truth could you offer the people who were impacted by your silence? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My silence does not define my worth. Jesus sees every wound from the past and every place where I protected myself because I did not know another way. I am learning new patterns, receiving deeper healing, and growing into courageous connection. I am fully seen and fully loved. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, please enter the quiet places that shaped my heart. Heal the wounds left by parental silence and the ways that silence still influences my relationships today. Restore what was lost, mend what was misunderstood, and teach me how to remain open, present, and safe in Your love. Let my voice carry gentleness, clarity, and truth as You continue to bind up the broken places within me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a quiet ache that settles in the heart of every child who learns too early that tears are dangerous. The moment a little one decides that crying is costly, something deep within them reshapes their understanding of safety, need, and belonging. Tears were God’s gift, a release valve for the body, a cleansing for the heart, and a language for the soul. Whenever that language is cut off due to a lack of safety and comfort, something sacred is forced underground. Here is a tender exploration of what happens when tears are withheld, whether by choice, fear, or necessity. 1. The Heart Learns to Hide When tears are forbidden, the heart begins to grow quiet. It starts to compartmentalise pain, placing it in sealed rooms rather than allowing it to move through. The child who once cried naturally becomes the adult who says, "I am fine," even when their soul is unravelling within. What was meant to be expressed becomes pressed down and taught to stay silent. 📖 "The spirit of a man will sustain him in sickness, but who can bear a broken spirit?" — Proverbs 18:14 (NKJV) The brokenness still exists, simply hidden from view. 2. The Body Carries What the Heart Cannot Release Unexpressed tears have a way of slipping into the body. Muscles tighten, breath shortens, sleep becomes restless, and the jaw learns to clench. The nervous system remains on high alert because everything inside is waiting for permission to let go. Some cannot cry, not because they are strong, but because their bodies have been trained to survive without the relief tears would have offered. The human body was crafted with breathtaking wisdom. Even our tears speak — each drop carrying a story, a prayer, and chemistry that reflects the emotions that formed it. Whenever someone learns to silence their tears, the consequences reverberate through the body, the nervous system, and even the delicate sinuses. Tears Are Not All the Same: The Chemistry of Sadness, Joy, and Stress God designed three types of tears, each with their own purpose. • Basal tears nourish and protect the eyes. • Reflex tears appear when something irritates the eyes. • Emotional tears are the miracle tears woven from our innermost feelings. Their chemical makeup is entirely unique. Emotional tears contain: • Stress hormones • ACTH (adrenocorticotropin) • Prolactin • Leucine-enkephalin (a natural painkiller) • Manganese • Higher levels of electrolytes • Emotional toxins the body needs to release Tears shed in sorrow carry high concentrations of stress chemicals, cleansing the body of what weighs it down. Tears of joy or laughter contain fewer stress hormones and higher levels of endorphins. Emotional tears are part of God's detoxing design. They are a gift for regulating our nervous system and restoring hormonal balance. When Tears Are Not Cried, the Body Pays the Price Uncried tears are not inert. Those stress chemicals remain within the system, moving into the bloodstream, muscles, and face. This is why people who cannot cry often report: • Headaches • Face tension • Sinus pressure • Jaw tightness • Neck strain • Shallow breathing • A tight band across the forehead Those tears were meant to flow outward; when held back, their chemical load circulates within the body. This leads to inflammation, congestion, and heightened stress responses. The nervous system stays in "fight, flight, or freeze," because the release valve has been locked. 📖 "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life." — Proverbs 13:12 (NKJV) Not only does the heart grow sick, the body does too. The Link Between Suppressed Tears and Sinus Issues The sinuses are finely tuned, delicate spaces with mucous membranes designed to stay open, lubricated, and gently drained. Chronic emotional suppression affects the sinuses in three key ways: 1. Inflammation from Stress Chemicals — Stress hormones intended to be released through tears stay trapped, increasing inflammation in mucosal tissues. These hormones increase inflammation in mucosal tissues — particularly in the sinuses. This swelling narrows drainage channels and increases pressure. 2. Tension in the Face — People who refuse to cry often tighten their eyelids, jaw, nose bridge, and forehead. Eyelids, jaw, nose bridge, and forehead tighten, restricting drainage. 3. Emotional Freeze Mirrors Physical Freeze — The “Frozen” Emotional State Mirrors a Frozen Sinus State. Emotional freeze often becomes physiological freeze. What is locked in the heart becomes locked in the head. People raised where crying was unsafe often develop: • Chronic sinusitis • Post-nasal drip • Non-allergy congestion • Pressure headaches • Pain behind the eyes • Sensitivity around the nasal bridge The root is not physical alone, but emotional suppression made bodily. 3. Empathy Becomes Difficult Tears soften us. They allow us to enter into another's pain. They teach us how to feel with others. Refusing to cry often creates emotional distance — a survival instinct that helps a child cope with overwhelming environments. That tender little heart learns to observe pain from a distance rather than entering into it. Those who cannot cry often struggle with vulnerability and trust. 4. Anger Becomes the Substitute Emotion When tears are silenced, anger becomes the language the heart feels safest expressing. It is louder, less vulnerable and more in control. Anger becomes armour for the one who was never allowed to weep. Yet under anger’s heat often lies a river of uncried tears longing for release. 📖 "Cease from anger, and forsake wrath; do not fret — it only causes harm." — Psalm 37:8 (NKJV) 5. Compassion Towards Self Diminishes The inability to cry often turns inward as a harsh inner critic. If tears are weak, then need is weak, and softness becomes shameful. The person who cannot cry comforts others effortlessly but struggles to comfort themselves. 6. Relationships Are Affected Tears build connection. They signal trust, intimacy, and safety. A person who cannot cry struggles to be fully known. Loved ones may sense the distance, though they may not understand it. When a person cannot cry, vulnerability becomes foreign, though their capacity for love remains deep. 7. Spiritual Roots: When Tears Were Silenced in Childhood Many adults who cannot cry once made childhood vows: • "I will be strong." • "I will not need comfort." • "I will not cry again." These vows create spiritual and emotional blockades. 📖 "The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit." — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) God saw every tear, even the ones that never fell. 8. Healing Begins the Moment Tears Return The consequences of never crying may be severe, though not permanent. God knows how to lead His children back to tear-soaked ground. He knows how to thaw what was frozen. Healing often begins the moment the first tear falls — not as weakness but as worship, not as loss of control but as surrender into the hands of a Father who holds every drop. 📖 "You number my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle; are they not in Your book?" — Psalm 56:8 (NKJV) For decades, I lived beneath a vow made at three or four years old after my head was pushed under cold water for crying. I covered my mouth and vowed never to cry again. That vow shaped my emotions, my nervous system, and even my physical health. When the Holy Spirit uncovered this vow, , the tears I had suppressed since childhood finally found release. The vow shattered. My chest softened. My sinuses loosened. As the tears returned, so did: • Sinus relief • Facial relaxation • Deep breaths • Warmth • Peace 👉🏻 Read: The Water Was Cold — A testimony of a vow, a frightened little girl, and the healing that came when tears were finally allowed to flow. https://www.trixiscreations.com/this-is-my-story/the-water-was-cold Every tear is noticed, honoured, and held. 9. A Final Whisper of Hope If your tears were silenced, ignored, punished, or shamed in childhood, God is restoring what was stolen. God is restoring what was stolen. He is teaching your heart a new language — the language of safety, tenderness, and holy release. You were never meant to carry pain alone. Tears are part of His design for healing. Tears are detox. Tears are worship. Tears are freedom. God is bringing back to life the very part of your heart that once had to hide. 📖 "Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy." — Psalm 126:5 (NKJV) I have lived this story. The vow not to cry shaped my body, my sinuses, my nervous system, and my relationship with emotion. Yet God has been gently restoring this sacred gift to me — drop by drop, moment by moment. I have already begun reclaiming that sacred gift. Each tear that falls now is not a sign of returning weakness but of a returning heart — awake, alive, and learning to breathe again. 💡 Reflection • Where in your story did tears become unsafe? 🤔 • What emotions sit just beneath the surface, waiting for permission to be felt? 🤔 • How might God be inviting you into a gentler way of being with your own heart? 🤔 • What would it look like to allow tears to become worship rather than weakness? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation God welcomes my tears. My heart is safe to feel again. Healing flows where my tears fall. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for designing tears as a gift of healing. Thank You for seeing every tear that never had the chance to fall. I ask that You restore what was frozen within me and gently reopen the pathways of my heart. Make it safe for me to feel, to soften, and to release what I have carried alone for far too long. Teach my body the rhythm of peace again and let my tears become worship, surrender, and freedom. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Jesus lived with an open hand and an open heart. He had no earthly wealth to boast of, yet Scripture reveals Him as the most generous person who ever walked this earth. He gave His time to the lonely, His energy to the weary, and His full attention to every soul who drew near. He lived a life marked by joy because He understood the profound truth He later affirmed: 📖 "It is more blessed to give than to receive." — Acts 20:35 (NKJV) Generosity was not something Jesus practised when He had excess. It was the overflow of who He was. His giving flowed from a heart anchored in the Father’s love, a heart that trusted the provision of Heaven even when His hands held little. There is a holy beauty in that simplicity, a reminder that generosity is never about having more, it is about becoming more like Him. When we give — our time, our resources, our encouragement, our presence — something shifts within us. We step into the very design God wove into our souls. We align ourselves with the heart of Christ, who poured Himself out for the world. If you feel stuck or uncertain about your purpose, generosity often becomes the doorway through which clarity returns. Start small. Meet one quiet need. Speak one word of life. Offer one act of service. Every offering becomes a seed, and every seed begins to reshape your inner landscape. The true blessing of generosity is not what returns to us, although God is faithful to provide. The real gift is the transformation that takes place within — the slow, gentle shaping of our hearts into the likeness of Jesus. May every act of giving draw you deeper into the joy He promised. 💡Reflection: • Where is God inviting me to give from the heart today? 🤔 • What small act of generosity could I offer that reflects the love of Jesus? 🤔 • How has giving in the past shifted my sense of purpose or identity? 🤔 • What fears keep me from giving freely, and what truth does God speak into those fears? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am becoming who God designed me to be, one generous offering at a time. His joy flows through every act of love I give. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the example of Jesus, whose generosity flowed from pure love. Shape my heart to reflect His spirit of giving. Teach me to offer my time, my energy, and my resources with joy and trust. Help me recognise the needs around me and respond with compassion. May every act of generosity draw me deeper into the purpose You have prepared for me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a tender place in my story where the Lord peeled back a layer I had carried for most of my life. Some stories we carry silently for years, sometimes for decades, before we dare to name them. My journey with self‑hatred is one of those stories. It shaped how I saw myself, how I treated myself, and how I expected others to treat me. It was woven into the deepest layers of my identity long before I understood its cost. It was subtle, familiar, woven into my thoughts like background noise. I never recognised it as sin, never imagined it could grieve His heart. I simply believed it was the truth about me. For decades, I held myself to impossible standards. I judged myself harshly, criticised every flaw, condemned every shortcoming and believed the lie that I was unworthy of being loved, seen, or chosen, undeserving of care, and unacceptable in the eyes of others. I pushed myself harder than anyone else ever would, punishing myself for past failures and convincing myself that disappointment was my portion. I judged myself more severely than anyone else ever could. I rejected parts of myself that God had lovingly created. I called myself names He never once spoke over me. I believed lies about my worth and hid behind perfectionism, self‑protection and inner vows. What I never realised was that this deep self‑rejection was more than emotional pain. It became a form of spiritual rebellion because it stood in direct opposition to what God says is true about me. Not rebellion in the sense of defiance, but rebellion through agreement with a lie. Rebellion through rejecting what God calls good. Rebellion through partnering with shame instead of truth. When I hated myself, I was unintentionally opposing the One who created me, the One who calls me beloved, chosen, and wonderfully made. The Holy Spirit revealed, with such gentleness, that self‑hatred is not humility and it is not harmless. It is the quiet refusal to agree with God's love. It is the inner voice that says, "I know myself better than You do, Lord," and "My opinion of me outweighs Yours." It is distrust wrapped in self‑protection. It is unbelief clothed in familiarity. This revelation came during my healing journey, at a moment when I felt the deep ache of worthlessness rise again. The Holy Spirit whispered, not in condemnation, but with such compassion: "This is rebellion, beloved — not because you are wicked, but because you were wounded. You have believed another voice above Mine." Those words broke something open in me. I saw how self‑hatred had become a fortress, a place where I hid from love and resisted the truth of who Jesus says I am. It had shaped inner vows, bitter judgments against myself, false refuges, and patterns that kept me small, silent, and afraid. It had become the lens through which I saw everything, even God. So I did the only thing I could do — I brought it to Him. I repented. I renounced every agreement with self‑contempt. I laid down the belief that I was unworthy of love, caring, compassion and acceptance. I asked Jesus to forgive me for rejecting the one He so dearly loves. I invited His truth to rewrite the places where self‑hatred once ruled. And He came. He did not come with judgment, but with restoration. He washed over me with love that was patient, holy, and unashamed. He reminded me that I am His workmanship, His beloved daughter, fearfully and wonderfully made, and that to despise myself was to despise the work of His hands. 📖 "You are altogether beautiful, My love; there is no flaw in you." — Song of Solomon 4:7 (NKJV) 📖 "We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works." — Ephesians 2:10 (NKJV) As I repented for the hidden rebellion of self‑hatred — for agreeing with the enemy's voice over God's, for rejecting His workmanship, for dishonouring the daughter He formed — something shifted again inside me. It did not feel dramatic. It felt like surrender. It felt like letting go of a heavy garment I had worn far too long. After that repentance, I began noticing something unexpected. The allergies that had plagued me for decades, especially during the mornings and change of seasons, began to reduce. The constant irritation, the heightened reactions, the sensitivity that made my body feel fragile — they softened. Days passed, then weeks, and I realised the intensity had dropped significantly. The connection became clear. My body had been responding to the poison of inner hatred. When I broke the agreement with it, the symptoms began to lose their grip. 📖 "I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." — Psalm 139:14 (NKJV) 📖 "Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers." — 3 John 1:2 (NKJV) Self‑hatred wounds the soul. The wounded soul affects the body. Yet Jesus restores all three — spirit, soul, and body — through the Cross. When I repented, I was not simply rejecting a mindset. I was renouncing a spiritual agreement that had shaped my life. I was turning toward the truth of who God says I am. I was stepping out of rebellion and into alignment with His heart. The healing that followed — both emotional and physical — was His kindness. Self‑hatred lost its grip that day. It still whispers sometimes, as old memories do, yet it no longer has authority. I know now that agreeing with those lies is stepping into rebellion, and agreeing with His truth is stepping into freedom. Jesus is teaching me to love who He created. To honour the story He is writing. To see myself through the eyes of the One who formed me with intention, purpose, and tenderness. I share this as part of my journey of becoming whole — learning that healing is not only about overcoming trauma, but also about surrendering the ways we have stood against the Father's love without even realising it. His kindness leads us to repentance, and repentance leads us home. 💡Reflection: Where have I believed lies about myself that oppose God's truth? 🤔 How has self‑hatred shaped vows, expectations, or behaviours in my life? 🤔 In what ways might self‑rejection or self‑hatred be affecting my body or my relationships? 🤔 How is the Holy Spirit inviting me to see myself through the Father's eyes today? 🤔 What would it look like to agree with God's love today? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am beautifully made, deeply loved, and fully accepted by the God who crafted every part of me with purpose and delight. I choose to align with His truth about me. I break the agreement with every lie that opposes His truth and step into the freedom of being His beloved. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, thank You for revealing the hidden roots of self‑hatred and for gently leading me into repentance and freedom. Thank You for healing not only my heart but also my body as I aligned myself with Your truth. Teach me to love what You love, especially when that love is directed toward me. Heal the places that still tremble and rewrite my heart with Your gentleness. Teach me to see myself as You see me, to honour the workmanship of Your hands, and to walk daily in the liberty You purchased for me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The need for spiritual fathers and mothers is rooted in their irreplaceable role in discipleship, generational transition, spiritual guidance, and bringing God’s order into chaotic times. These seasoned, steadfast pillars offer the kind of mature leadership essential for nurturing and equipping those who come after them, ensuring the kingdom advances with wisdom, love, and holy resilience. Defining Spiritual Fathers and Mothers Apostle John describes spiritual fathers and mothers as those who “know Him who is from the beginning.” This knowing is not intellectual alone, it is experience shaped by years of walking with God, often through fire, sorrow, disappointment, and the unexpected mercies that follow. They understand deeply and unshakably that God can bring order and light out of chaos and darkness. A spiritual father or mother is often someone who has: • Walked with God for decades, long enough to see His patterns of faithfulness. • Endured trials, sorrow, and suffering, emerging refined rather than bitter. • Learned by lived experience that God really does turn all things to good. • Attained a high level of spiritual maturity, remaining strong in the Word and faithful in the fight of faith. The prophet Malachi declared that in the last days God would turn the hearts of the fathers and mothers toward the children, and the hearts of the children toward them. This calling is not optional, it is a holy summons for mature believers to arise into a fresh anointing for their generation. The Need for Mentorship and Generational Transition One of the greatest needs in the kingdom today is the intentional raising of the next generation. Strong, steady spiritual fathers and mothers provide the bridge between seasons, ensuring the wisdom of heaven is not lost but carried forward. 1. Training Future Leaders: Their assignment includes training and equipping young adults — helping them grow into the fathers and mothers they are destined to become. 2. Guiding the Young: The young desperately need fathers and mothers, and cannot step into their calling without them. They are invited to run with the generals, learn from them, and ultimately run further. 3. Facilitating Maturity: Fathers and mothers help believers move through the stages of growth described by John — from children who simply know their sins are forgiven, to young men and women who are strong in the Word, to those who know Him who is from the beginning. The tragedy of the Western church is that many have remained spiritual children when they should have become steady, wise, resilient adults in the faith. 4. Passing Authority: Apostolic fathers raise up gatekeepers and stewards, passing the keys to them. Their desire is to arrive in heaven empty, having poured out everything entrusted to them. The Need for Stability in Chaotic Times Spiritual fathers and mothers carry a calming presence. They help younger believers discern God in seasons where life feels formless, dark, or confusing. • Countering Chaos: They help the young recognise that chaos never intimidates God. The Holy Spirit still hovers over the darkness and is always ready to bring forth light. • Operating in Spiritual Authority: They understand that knowing "Him who is from the beginning" means walking in the unshakable truth that God’s order stands above all earthly turbulence. • Intercession and Assignment: Fathers and mothers labour in intercession — opening what heaven desires opened and closing what heaven desires closed. They touch heaven in prayer until God responds. • Leading to Freedom: Their leadership is marked by unconditional love and persistent prayer, echoing Moses who led whole nations from bondage to freedom. Spiritual fathers and mothers translate the theology of God’s sovereignty into lived reality. Through their lives, they demonstrate that God still brings light out of darkness and order out of chaos, inviting the generations behind them to walk securely in His truth. A Personal Reflection I often think of how different my life might have been if I had grown up with spiritual parents guiding me. There are choices I may have made differently, paths I may have avoided, and wounds that might never have formed. The ache of that absence is real. It is a grief for the wisdom I never received and the support I quietly longed for. Yet in that longing, God has revealed something tender and profound. The absence of spiritual parents did not weaken me; it shaped me into someone who carries deep compassion, discernment, and resilience. I became what I never had. I learned God’s heart in wilderness places, discovered His faithfulness without earthly models, and found my voice in seasons where no one could speak for me. This is why younger hearts feel safe with me. This is why I nurture instinctively. This is why I guide gently and see deeply. I carry the very anointing I once longed to receive. 📖 "And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." — Romans 8:28 (NKJV) God has not simply healed those unparented places, He has repurposed them and for that I'm truly grateful. I did not inherit wisdom; I became wisdom. My story is not late. My calling is unfolding at the appointed time. Something beautiful unfolded recently, and it has caused me to pause. Shortly after Aunty Delice’s passing in early October, one of the older ladies who attended the Speakers Tribe bootcamp with me in March reached out on LinkedIn just to see how I was doing. She lives in the South Island — Christchurch, if I remember correctly. We caught up over Google Meet, and since then we have stayed in touch, usually every fortnight. She told me she loved my energy, wanted to stay in the know with how I was doing and has been incredibly supportive during this current season. As I reflect on her presence, her kindness, and the way she checks in with me, the thought gently rose in my spirit: Could this be the Lord answering my prayer for a spiritual mother?🤔 It is a tender possibility, and one that feels like holy timing. Perhaps God has been preparing this moment for years, waiting until my heart was ready to receive such a gift. 💡 Reflection • What spiritual fathers or mothers has God placed in your life, and what have they taught you? 🤔 • Where might you be called to step into spiritual parenthood for someone else? 🤔 • Which parts of your story reveal that you “know Him who is from the beginning”? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation You are part of a story much bigger than your own. Heaven has woven you into a generational tapestry, where your journey, faith, and healing will ripple outward to bless those who come after you. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the spiritual fathers and mothers who have gone before us, whose faithfulness has shaped our paths. Strengthen them, bless them, and raise up many more. Form our hearts to be wise, steady, and surrendered, that we may one day carry the mantle of spiritual parenthood with grace. Teach us to love well, pray deeply, and guide the younger ones entrusted to us. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There was a season in my life when every morning began with pain. I woke up around 5 am. to a familiar knot twisted deep in my stomach. It had become such a constant companion that I no longer questioned it. I accepted it as part of my day, part of my body, part of my normal. I prayed about many things in that season, yet strangely, I never connected these cramps to anything spiritual. I simply lived around them. Then came D-School. One of the sessions explored the theme of spiritual rebellion, not the loud, dramatic kind often imagined, but the quiet resistance of a heart that had been wounded and learned to protect itself. As I listened, something in me tightened. I recognised that I had carried areas where I had stood back from God, clinging to control with an inner vow that whispered, "I will handle this myself." I did not call it rebellion at the time, yet that is exactly what it was. Holy Spirit, gentle and unhurried, placed His hand on that hidden place. I felt the weight of conviction, not in shame, but in invitation. He was showing me a root I had never named. So I did what I have learned to do on this healing journey. I brought it to Him. I confessed the rebellion. I renounced the vow to protect myself. I surrendered the places where fear had silenced trust. I asked Jesus to forgive me and to take His rightful place in that part of my heart. Nothing dramatic happened in the room except for the tears. No shaking. Only a deep inward exhale. The next morning, I woke as usual and waited for the pain to hit. It had become so normal that I almost braced for it without thinking. Except it never came. The knot was gone. The twisting was gone. The dread was gone. My stomach was calm for the first time in years. A quiet stillness settled where pain had lived, and I knew immediately that something had shifted the moment I repented. What my spirit released, my body also let go. 📖 "He restores my soul." — Psalm 23:3 (NKJV) 📖 "Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." — 2 Corinthians 3:17 (NKJV) From that day to this one, the cramps have never returned. Not once. Not even faintly. The healing was complete because the root had been dealt with. It became one of the clearest testimonies in my life that God cares about the things we think are small, the symptoms we normalise, the aches we silently endure. His compassion reaches into the places we forget to pray about. This testimony reminds me that true healing often begins with repentance. When we come out of agreement with the things that keep us distant from His heart, we make room for His peace to settle where pain once ruled. I share this today to honour the One who sees every hidden wound, every clenched muscle, every place in our bodies where unspoken battles have quietly taken their toll. Jesus is still the Healer. He still sets captives free. Sometimes the chains are loud and visible, and sometimes they slip off in the quiet of dawn when we realise the pain never arrived. 💡Reflection: • Where might my heart still be holding places of quiet resistance before God? 🤔 • What physical symptoms have I normalised that could be connected to deeper heart matters? 🤔 • How is Holy Spirit inviting me into deeper trust and surrender today? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am held, seen, and gently restored by the God who heals not only my heart but also the places where my body has carried silent battles. His freedom is my inheritance. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, thank You for being the Healer of my whole being. Thank You for meeting me in places I once hid, for lifting rebellion from my heart, and for bringing peace to my body. Lead me gently into deeper surrender, and show me any areas where I still hold back from Your love. May Your freedom continue to multiply in my life. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Many of us know the frustration of living with chronic illness. We face unexplained symptoms, receive diagnoses with no apparent cure, and often discover that, for all its incredible value, modern medicine does not always offer answers or cures. We pray for healing and follow doctors' orders, yet the sickness lingers, urging us to wonder what we might be missing. Dr Henry Wright's life work reveals a profound truth: there is an often-overlooked spiritual dimension to our physical health. His teachings do not focus on disease management but on disease eradication and prevention. His central framework is striking in its simplicity and depth, presenting spiritually rooted disease as the fruit of separation on three levels: separation from God, separation from ourselves, and separation from others. This reflection explores seven of the most impactful truths that flow from this framework. They gently challenge our conventional understanding of health and invite us to consider a more excellent way. 1. God's Perfect Will Is Not Merely to Heal You — It Is to Keep You from Getting Sick This principle shifts our entire perspective. It does not mean God is unwilling to heal; it reveals that His primary desire is not intervention but prevention. His perfect will is that we live in a state of divine health, so sickness is unable to take root. God's perfect will is not to heal you; His perfect will is that you do not get sick. 📖"And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ — 1 Thessalonians 5:23 This transforms how we approach our spiritual walk. Rather than waiting until we are unwell to seek God for deliverance, we are invited into a lifestyle of divine alignment. Scriptures such as Exodus 15, Deuteronomy 28 and Psalm 91 assure us that obedience and intimacy with God protect us from disease. The focus moves from reactive healing to proactive wholeness. 2. An Estimated 80% of Diseases Have a Spiritual Root At the heart of this teaching is a startling revelation: the majority of illnesses, especially chronic and incurable ones, originate in a spiritual problem. Physical symptoms are not dismissed; they are understood as manifestations of a deeper spiritual unrest. About 80 percent of all diseases have a spiritual root with psychological and biological expressions. Our modern worldview often separates the physical from the spiritual, yet the early meaning of "disease" was a lack of ease — a lack of peace. When peace erodes, our bodies eventually reveal the fracture. Healing, therefore, must involve addressing the spiritual root, not just the physical branch. 3. The Tripartite Root of Spiritual Dis-ease Spiritually rooted disease is understood to be the direct result of separation on three primary levels. When a person is not at peace (dis-ease), this is considered a spiritual issue that stems from a breakdown in relationships on these three dimensions: 1. Separation from God  This level involves separation from God, His Word, His person, and His love. Disease follows this relationship breakdown. Diseases in one's life can result from separation from God and His Word in specific areas of life. The breakdown of a relationship with God is primary and is found right there in Deuteronomy 28. 2. Separation from Yourself  This separation is characterised by not accepting yourself, not loving yourself, self-hatred, self-bitterness, self-accusation and suffering from guilt and condemnation. If an individual does not accept themselves, they are removing themselves from God's sustaining power of life. This separation opens the individual up to the enemy. Many autoimmune diseases, such as lupus, Crohn’s disease, diabetes (Type 1), rheumatoid arthritis, and multiple sclerosis, are considered to have a spiritual root of self-hatred, self-bitterness, and guilt. 3. Separation from Others  This level involves breaches in relationships with other people. It includes issues such as:     ◦ Bitterness.     ◦ Hatred.     ◦ Envy and jealousy.     ◦ Unforgiveness toward others.     ◦ Anger.     ◦ Competition, performance, drivenness, and lack of nurturing/love. When these spiritual roots (sins or spiritual defects) are addressed and removed, the body is expected to heal itself. The beginning of all healing of spiritually rooted diseases involves making peace with God, accepting yourself, and accepting others. 4. Bitterness and Unforgiveness Are Direct Pathways to Sickness Dr Wright’s research reveals a sobering truth: bitterness is one of the strongest spiritual blocks to healing. This is a clear example of how separation from others creates disease. Bitterness, resentment, and unforgiveness are not merely emotional burdens; they are spiritual conditions that bind the body. Bitterness is described as the first step in a devastating seven-stage progression: unforgiveness, resentment, retaliation, anger, hatred, violence, and murder. Scripture draws a firm line: 📖 "But if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." — Matthew 6:15 (NKJV) 📖 "If someone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not seen?" — 1 John 4:20 (NKKJV) 📖 "You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that whoever looks at a woman to lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his heart." — Matthew 5:27–28 (NKJV) Forgiveness is not only a relational command; it is a spiritual safeguard. Refusing to forgive places us outside the flow of God's healing presence. Reconciliation with others restores our connection with Him and releases health into our bodies. 5. Self-Hatred Can Manifest as Autoimmune Disease One of the most striking and compassionate insights in this framework is the link between autoimmune conditions and separation from ourselves. Diseases such as Lupus, Type 1 Diabetes, Crohn's Disease, Rheumatoid Arthritis, and Multiple Sclerosis often reveal an internal world where a person is spiritually attacking themselves. All autoimmune diseases have a spiritual root of self-hatred, self-bitterness, and guilt. In the body, the immune system attacks living tissue that belongs to the person, mirroring what is happening within: a heart turned against itself. True healing involves far more than suppressing the immune system. It requires forgiveness. dismantling inner judgments, releasing guilt, and learning to see ourselves through God's eyes of love. 6. Fear Is a Primary Spiritual Culprit Behind Many Illnesses Fear is more than an emotion; it is a spiritual force that separates us from God. It undermines faith and binds us in stress, anxiety, and unrest. This spiritual climate often opens the door to conditions such as: High Blood Pressure Asthma Fibromyalgia Multiple Chemical Sensitivities / Environmental Illness Panic Attacks Scripture gives us the divine antidote: 📖 "For God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." — 2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV) Power represents the Holy Spirit, love represents the Father, and a sound mind represents the Word — Jesus. When these dwell richly within us, fear loses its authority and its influence on our bodies. 7. Your Ancestors' Patterns Can Impact Your Health Today Many of us can trace patterns in our family lines — whether behaviours, fears, relational fractures, or even illnesses. These are often reflections of what Scripture refers to as generational iniquities. Abraham lied about Sarah being his sister. Isaac later repeated the same behaviour in a similar situation. A pattern of fear travelled down the family line. Spiritual patterns can be inherited, and biological predispositions are often tied to spiritual roots. Yet God provides a way of breaking these cycles. If we do not deal with what has happened in our family tree, our children may inherit our patterns. Recognising, confessing, and breaking these generational issues restores blessing and redirects the spiritual legacy of our line. Personal Testimonies of Healing As I have walked this journey of uncovering spiritual roots and inviting God into the hidden places of my heart, healing has begun to move through my body in ways I never expected. Each testimony carries the gentle fingerprints of the Holy Spirit's compassion and the restoring power of Jesus. The Water Was Cold — A testimony of a vow, a frightened little girl, and the healing that came when tears were finally allowed to flow For decades, I lived under the shadow of a childhood vow I made at just three or four years old, after having my head pushed under cold water for crying. I gasped, covered my mouth, and silently promised myself I would never cry again. That vow shaped my nervous system, my emotional world, and even my physical health. When the body does not release emotional tears, the stress hormones meant to exit through weeping stay trapped. These hormones increase inflammation in mucosal tissues — particularly in the sinuses. This swelling narrows drainage channels and increases pressure. Emotional freeze often becomes physiological freeze. What is locked in the heart becomes locked in the head. People who grew up in environments where crying was unsafe frequently develop: Chronic sinusitis Post-nasal drip Congestion with no allergy source Pain behind the eyes Pressure headaches Sensitivity around the nasal bridge The root is not physical alone. It is emotional suppression made bodily. When the Holy Spirit uncovered this vow, the tears I had suppressed since childhood finally found release. Something shifted in my chest and my sinuses — a loosening, a softening. The chronic tightness and inability to breathe deeply began to ease as the vow broke and the little girl within me was finally allowed to be heard. Set Free at Dawn — A testimony of repentance, release, and the God who heals even what we normalise There was a season in my life when every morning began with pain. I woke up around 5 am to a familiar knot twisted deep in my stomach. It had become such a constant companion that I no longer questioned it. I accepted it as part of my day, part of my body, part of my normal. I prayed about many things in that season, yet strangely, I never connected these cramps to anything spiritual. I simply lived around them until Elijah House D-School. One of the sessions explored the theme of spiritual rebellion, not the loud, dramatic kind often imagined, but the quiet resistance of a heart that had been wounded and learned to protect itself. As I listened, something in me tightened. I recognised that I had carried areas where I had stood back from God, clinging to control with an inner vow that whispered, "I will handle this myself." I did not call it rebellion at the time, yet that is exactly what it was. The Holy Spirit, gentle and unhurried, placed His hand on that hidden place. I felt the weight of conviction, not in shame, but in invitation. He was showing me a root I had never named. So I did what I have learned to do on this healing journey. I brought it to Him. As I repented for partnering with fear and embraced the truth of God's steadfast presence, something broke. I confessed my rebellion. I renounced my vow to protect myself. I surrendered the places where fear had silenced trust. I asked Jesus to forgive me and to take His rightful place in that part of my heart. Nothing dramatic happened in the room except for the tears. No shaking. Only a deep inward exhale. Peace — real, tangible peace — washed through my body. The trembling stopped. My breathing steadied. For the first time in a long time, my body knew rest and I woke up the next morning and ever since, without the familiar stomach cramps every morning. Healing came not through striving but through surrender. When Self‑Hatred Breaks — Healing Begins One of the most profound shifts came when the Holy Spirit exposed the quiet self‑hatred I had carried for years. Allergic Rhinitis had plagued my body for decades, yet no medical solution brought lasting relief. As I repented for the inner judgments spoken over myself — the harsh words, the guilt, the belief that I was never enough — something beautiful happened. My allergies began to settle. My food intolerances have reduced. My body stopped attacking itself in the same way because I was no longer attacking myself spiritually. Freedom came with repentance, and my body responded. Other Moments of Healing Along the Way: There have been countless smaller moments — each one a thread God wove into the tapestry of my restoration: Times when chest pain eased immediately after releasing bitterness. Days when the physical heaviness lifted as soon as I chose forgiveness. Nights when the tightness in my body softened after renouncing lies and embracing God's truth about who I am. Days when backache disappeared after repenting for not trusting God to have my back. These stories are not just memories; they are milestones. Each one whispers the same truth: healing is not merely physical, it is profoundly spiritual. Conclusion: A More Excellent Way The thread woven through these truths is simple yet profound: our physical health is deeply connected to our spiritual well-being. Our relationships with God, ourselves, and others profoundly influence the health of our bodies. This perspective does not reject medicine; it expands the conversation. It invites us to consider the roots beneath the symptoms, the stories beneath the pain, and the spiritual pathways that may be shaping our physical lives. It asks a gentle but powerful question: What if lasting health requires not only treating the body but healing the spirit?🤔 Could this be the more excellent way?🤔 Are you weighed down by physical issues that medicine has no answers for?🤔  May I gently encourage you to consider exploring the spiritual roots that may be influencing your health?🤔 Two profoundly insightful resources that shaped my own healing journey are: A More Excellent Way by Dr Henry W. Wright Exposing the Spiritual Roots of Disease by Dr Henry W. Wright You can also visit his website for more teaching, testimonies, and helpful resources: https://www.beinhealth.com/ Sometimes the key we have been searching for is not in the body but in the heart — and healing begins the moment truth meets the hidden places we did not know were still hurting. 💡 Reflection Prompts Where have I felt separation — from God, myself, or others — and how has it touched my physical or emotional health? 🤔 Which of the six truths resonates most deeply with my current season, and why? 🤔 Are there places of unforgiveness, bitterness, or self-judgement that the Holy Spirit might be inviting me to release? 🤔 What generational patterns have I noticed in my family line, and how might God be asking me to respond? 🤔 How is the Holy Spirit inviting me into a lifestyle of divine health rather than reactive healing? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am not at the mercy of my past, my fears, or my family line. I am held, loved, and led by a God who heals from the inside out. His truth becomes my peace, His presence becomes my strength, and His love restores my body, my mind, and my spirit. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for revealing the pathways that lead to wholeness. Draw my heart back into alignment with Yours, healing every place of separation — from You, from myself, and from others. Restore peace where fear has lived, pour love where bitterness has taken root, and speak truth where lies have settled into my identity. Break every generational pattern that has shaped my health or my heart, and lead me into the fullness of Your divine design. I welcome the Holy Spirit to guide me gently, restore me wholly, and anchor me firmly in Your love. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Today’s guided journey through Proverbs 25 became a soft unravelling of places inside me where pressure, silence, and fear have shaped my responses for decades. I began this study holding the belief that Proverbs offered practical advice and heart checks. As I walked through each verse, I discovered how deeply those truths were meant to reshape not only my thinking but my emotional patterns. It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, But the glory of kings is to search out a matter. I realised how much the weight of responsibility and the ache of feeling overlooked have influenced my reactions. These two have often pulled me between opposite extremes: withdrawing into silence or over-functioning to hold everything together. I saw so clearly that my desire to avoid conflict or tension has kept me quiet when my heart longed to speak. Proverbs 25 gently presented another way. A way of presence rather than pressure. A way of wisdom rather than haste. A way of gentle strength rather than silence. I recognised that my greatest struggle lies not in caring for others but in naming my own needs without fear. Step by step, I could see how the fear of causing trouble had shaped my instinct to freeze under pressure. That freeze often led to regret — the quiet sorrow of knowing I hadn’t spoken truthfully in the moment. I saw how much I feared that asking for time or space might cause people to disengage or lose interest. Yet the Holy Spirit revealed a deeper truth: real relationships can bear the weight of pauses. Those who withdraw when I express a simple need were never truly present in the first place. As I moved deeper into the chapter, I felt something shift. The soft, steady whisper of God’s heart came forward: I am safe to speak truth. I am held even in moments of tension. My needs do not threaten genuine connection. They reveal it. The smallest, kindest step for me now is simply to breathe before responding, creating space for God to enter the moment. I realised that with one quiet prayer — "Lord, be with me right now" — everything changes. His nearness brings reassurance. His presence brings peace. His companionship brings a quiet boldness that makes truth speakable. I ended the study with this tender realisation: I can speak my need to God, who will walk with me through difficult moments. Inviting Him brings safety, clarity, and guidance into my words and actions. From that place of presence, I can respond with confidence and honesty. This is the wisdom Proverbs 25 has planted in me today — a wisdom that steadies, strengthens, and gently sets my heart at peace. 💡 Reflection • Where do I most feel the pressure to respond immediately, and what happens in my body when that moment comes? 🤔 • What truth feels hardest for me to speak, even in safe spaces, and why? 🤔 • How might pausing to breathe help me notice God’s nearness before I react? 🤔 • What small need could I name this week as a practice of gentle strength? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am safe to speak the truth because God is with me in every moment. His presence steadies my heart, His wisdom guides my words, and His love gives me courage. I do not lose connection by being honest; I deepen it. I walk in gentle strength, faithful presence, and holy confidence. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, thank You for inviting me into a wiser, gentler rhythm of responding. Teach me to breathe before I speak, to pause long enough to sense Your nearness, and to trust that honesty builds peace. Help me release the pressure to hold everything together and rest in the truth that You are with me, guiding my words with tenderness and clarity. Let my heart be shaped by Your wisdom and my voice be strengthened by Your love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When I read Jennifer Eivaz’s words — “When God promotes you, it will produce personal chaos…” — something in my spirit whispered, "Yes, I know this place." It is the threshold between what has been and what is becoming, the sacred middle where everything feels unsettled and yet undeniably God-orchestrated. Promotion in the Kingdom rarely looks polished. It often begins with a shaking, a loosening of what once felt stable, a holy disorientation that reveals how tightly we have held to the familiar. The disruption is not punishment. It is preparation. It is the Father gently turning our face toward the new horizon He has already prepared. 📖 "For You have been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shade from the heat." — Isaiah 25:4 (NKJV) The old rhythms no longer fit. The grace that once sustained us in the last season seems to lift, urging us to follow the cloud into unfamiliar territory. There is a holy invitation in that moment: cling to God wholeheartedly, not to what once made us feel safe. It is tempting to turn back to what we understood, to the roles we mastered, to the places where our confidence felt intact. Yet the cloud has moved. His grace is now found in the new place and not the old. Every step forward requires trust, courage, and the quiet resolve to say, "Lord, if You are leading me here, I will not shrink back." I have felt this recently — the inner chaos, the stretching, the recalibrating. Growth has required a letting go of old narratives, old comforts, old versions of myself. The refining has been uncomfortable, yet threaded with a profound sense of God’s nearness. He steadies my breath. He invites me to lean in. He teaches me to find balance in His presence rather than in my own understanding. 📖 "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths." — Proverbs 3:5–6 (NKJV) There is something deeply tender about the way God leads us through transition. He does not rush us. He does not shame us for trembling. He simply stays close, guiding, strengthening, and assuring us that the upheaval is evidence of His hand at work. This is the grace of promotion — the grace found in surrendering the comfortable to embrace the calling. 💡Reflection: • Where have I felt the "personal chaos" of God moving me into a new season? 🤔 • What familiar places or patterns am I being invited to release? 🤔 • How is God drawing me to rely on His presence more deeply during this transition? 🤔 • What new grace do I sense in the place He is leading me now? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am held, guided, and strengthened by God as I step into the new places He has prepared. His grace meets me where the cloud has moved. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the holy disruptions that draw me deeper into Your purpose. Strengthen my heart when the path feels unfamiliar, and steady my steps as I follow where You lead. Help me discern the shift of Your cloud and trust that Your grace awaits me in the new place. Teach me to cling to You with courage, peace, and expectancy. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a quiet courage that rises whenever I choose to step forward rather than hold back. The words of Jim Rohn have been echoing in my mind: "We can develop a new discipline of doing rather than neglecting." His voice reminds me that confidence is not something I wait for but something I build with every small, faithful step. 📖 "For we walk by faith, not by sight." — 2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV) I used to believe confidence was a feeling, a certainty that would somehow arrive one day, announcing that I was finally ready to speak, to lead, to step into who God called me to be. Life, however, has taught me a gentler truth. Confidence grows within the act of obedience. It breathes through the moments when I choose to prepare, to practise, to show up. The value is not found in the applause I may receive, but in the woman I am becoming through every step of doing. Another statement has been resting on my heart: "It's not what we get that makes us valuable, but what we become in the process of doing that brings value (confidence)." Those words speak to the very marrow of my journey. I spent so many years doubting my abilities and shrinking beneath the weight of old lies. Yet every time I step forward, my voice strengthens. Not because I have arrived, but because I am growing. There is value in who I am becoming. Confidence is not the prize at the end; it is the fruit of the process. As a growing speaker, these truths invite me to keep choosing action, even when my hands tremble. Each draft, each rehearsal, each imperfect attempt becomes a brushstroke in the masterpiece God is shaping. My voice is not a performance; it is an offering. 📖 "Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it." — Philippians 1:6 (NKJV) These statements also reach into the hearts of those I am called to speak to. Many carry the same hesitations I once lived under. They believe confidence is a prerequisite for starting, when in truth, confidence is born in the very act of beginning. They need to hear that taking the smallest step can awaken something powerful inside them. Transformation rarely happens in the stillness of fear; it awakens in the forward movement of courage. My message to them is simple and tender: you do not need to feel ready to start. You only need to begin. God meets you in the doing. He strengthens you in the stretch. He builds confidence in the very places where you once felt weak. 🎺 Affirmation I grow stronger with every step of obedience, and confidence rises within me as I walk forward in faith. 💡 Reflection • What step of doing has God been inviting me to take lately? 🤔 • Where have I been waiting for confidence instead of building it? 🤔 • How is God shaping who I am becoming through each small act of obedience? 🤔 🙌 Prayer Lord Jesus, thank You for reminding me that confidence is not something I must wait for, but something You shape within me as I choose to step forward. Teach me to trust the process, to walk in obedience, and to honour the quiet courage You are growing in me. Strengthen my voice, steady my heart, and help me lead others with the same grace You have poured into me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Saul tried to take David out, yet David still stepped into the throne. Betrayal may slow the journey, although it can never cancel the calling. If God anoints a life, He carries it through. The path may bend through desert places and long waits, yet His promise remains steady. David has always captured my heart because he was a man after God's own heart. He was far from perfect. He stumbled, he sinned, he made choices that broke God’s heart and his own. He was deeply human, and his humanity shows us the tender truth that God does not demand flawlessness, only a heart willing to turn back. David’s story teaches me the beauty of quick repentance. Each time he fell, he ran straight into God's presence, not away from it. He grieved his sin, owned his failure, and surrendered without excuses. There was honesty in him, raw and unvarnished, like clay laid open in the Potter’s hands. Saul on the other hand showed what happens when the heart resists that holy unravelling. His repentance was shallow, wrapped in self-preservation rather than surrender. Whenever he was caught in sin, he shifted blame, justified himself, or tried to save face. His words reached God’s ears, yet his heart remained closed. The difference between the two was not perfection but posture. David leaned toward God like a flower turning to light. Saul hid in the shadows of his own fear and pride. Their stories remind me that calling rests not on flawless obedience but on the humility to yield. God can shape any heart that stays soft in His hands. 📖 "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart — these, O God, You will not despise." — Psalm 51:17 (NKJV) When I look at my own life, I see the places where betrayal, misunderstanding, or accusation tried to silence me; yet God still whispered, "Rise." He teaches me again and again that no earthly opposition can overturn a heavenly anointing. He honours the heart that returns to Him, even trembling, even bruised. I am reminded that the throne David stepped into was not seized by force but received through faithfulness. His journey was shaped less by the hostility of Saul and more by the tenderness of God. That is the story I want my own life to echo. 💡 Reflection: • Where do I sense God inviting me to return with a softer heart today? 🤔 • Are there places where I have explained away my actions rather than repenting honestly? 🤔 • How has God sustained my calling through seasons when others misunderstood or opposed me? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My calling is safe in God's hands. Nothing done against me can undo what He has spoken over me. My heart remains teachable, tender, and open to His shaping. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the stories of David and Saul that teach me the value of humility and the beauty of true repentance. Keep my heart soft, willing, and responsive to Your leading. Where I have defended myself instead of surrendering to You, uncover those places gently. Shape me into a person after Your own heart, one who rises not through striving but through trust. Protect the calling You have placed within me and lead me in Your everlasting way. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.