This morning, I woke to the words:

🎼“Oh, I will not fear, I will not fear

When the enemy comes near.

Oh, on the doorframes of my life

Is the blood of Jesus Christ…”🎵🎶

It was the perfect song to rise to — strong, defiant faith echoing through trembling heartbeats. Yet even under that melody, grief rolled in again, steady and deep like waves against the shore.

Yesterday went gently enough. Two Encounter Groups filled the studio with prayer and presence. Someone told me, kindly, to stop feeling bad about the mistakes I made during A-School. Apparently, B-School had its fair share of glitches too. That reminder lifted a quiet weight — how often we hold ourselves to impossible standards when grace already covers us.

We even trialled having people join via Google Meet, and it worked beautifully. It means we can open our doors wider — for those who live far away, those who long to be part of this journey but can’t always make the distance. Even technology, redeemed, can be a vessel of inclusion.

Still, die trane lê weer vlak vandag — the tears sit close today.

At The Crate, I busied my hands rolling towels, showing up for the non-negotiable stand-up. But as I worked, heaviness crept back in. The ache wanted solitude; it whispered, “Go home, cry it out.” Yet I had promised Rachel and Dave I’d come to Life Group. Sometimes obedience to community is the very thing that keeps you from collapsing inward.

I almost turned the car around — afraid that one look, one kind word, would break the dam. And still, Rachel came. She sought me out mid-conversation with Phil and wrapped me in a hug. For the first time that day, I whispered, “Thank you… I needed that.”

During worship, something loosened. Tears didn’t come, but peace did. And by the time lunch rolled around, the heaviness had lifted — not vanished, but softened. Grace lingered long enough for me to stay.

Sometimes God doesn’t still the waves — He steadies the swimmer. His blood on the doorframes of my life still speaks: “You are covered. You are safe. You are Mine.”

💡Reflection:

What small act of love or obedience helped you stay grounded when grief or fear tried to isolate you?🤔

🙌🏻Prayer:

Lord Jesus, thank You that Your blood still speaks a better word over my life — protection, redemption, peace. Teach me to trust Your covering even when the waters rise. Let me feel Your nearness in the quiet moments, and help me to see grace in the faces that seek me out when I would rather hide. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.