There are moments when the whisper of God becomes unmistakable, when His presence begins to move in the quiet places of the heart with a certainty that cannot be ignored. Today felt like one of those moments. As I read the simple yet stirring words, "God is stirring a boldness in you that fear cannot silence," something within me shifted. It felt like a gentle yet undeniable awakening, a holy invitation to step further into the woman He has been shaping me to become. There has been fear, of course. Fear of getting it wrong, fear of being misunderstood, fear of stepping into spaces I once avoided because my confidence felt too fragile to hold me upright. Yet God has been working beneath the surface, weaving courage through the tender places that had once been overwhelmed by the echoes of past wounds. He has been strengthening my voice, steadying my feet, and teaching my heart to lean into His truth rather than my old narratives. 📖 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." — 2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV) This Scripture feels especially alive today. The fear that once tried to muffle my voice no longer has the authority it once held. God is awakening a strength that does not roar loudly but stands steadily, like a flame that refuses to be extinguished. It is boldness shaped by His Spirit, not by human striving. It is the quiet kind of courage that walks forward even when the way still feels unfamiliar. Perhaps this boldness has been building for a while now, rising gently with every healed memory, every whispered prayer, every step of obedience. Maybe boldness is not the absence of trembling but the willingness to move anyway because God is the One who calls, equips, and sustains. There is a holy shift unfolding — a reclaiming of identity, a strengthening of purpose, a deepening of trust. Fear may try to speak, yet its voice is losing its power. God is stirring something far stronger, far truer, and far more deeply rooted in His heart. 💡 Reflection • Where has fear tried to silence your voice lately? 🤔 • What is one small step of boldness God may be inviting you to take today? 🤔 • How does knowing God goes before you change the way you face challenges? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation You are rising in God’s strength, not your own. His boldness is awakening within you, steady and unshakeable, and His love will carry you forward with grace. You are held, empowered, and seen — beautifully equipped for the path ahead. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, thank You for the courage You are forming within me. Thank You for every place where fear once ruled and where Your presence now brings peace, strength, and clarity. Stir in me a boldness that reflects Your love and truth. Teach me to walk forward with a steady heart, trusting that You go before me. Help me to honour You in every step I take, knowing that Your Spirit empowers me to live with holy confidence. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When a woman is chosen by God, life often feels unbearably heavy, almost as though every blessing arrives clothed in the garments of a curse. The path set before her rarely looks noble or glorious; it is carved through valleys where she is tested, attacked, and betrayed. Disappointment shadows her steps like an unwelcome companion, whispering lies of being overlooked or forgotten. Yet beneath the ache, something sacred is forming. Every trial becomes preparation, and every wound carries the fire of refinement. Delays that once felt cruel begin revealing themselves as divine protections, held within the tender hands of the One who sees the end from the beginning. At the appointed moment, she rises. She discovers that she is not merely surviving; she is chosen. God’s strength steadies her shoulders, and His love becomes the crown she never realised she was being shaped to bear. Her pain transforms into purpose, her trials into testimony. What once broke her now builds her. The same God who allowed the stretching now anoints her with authority, positioning her for influence birthed in humility and forged through perseverance. 📖 "And who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" — Esther 4:14 (NKJV) In this sacred unfolding, she learns that her calling was never about ease; it was always about faithfulness. She becomes a living echo of Esther’s courage, standing in the place God prepared for her long before she understood the weight or wonder of being chosen. He crowns her not because she strove for greatness, but because she surrendered to His shaping. 💡 Reflection: • Which trials in my life have become places of refining rather than defeat? 🤔 • Where might God be delaying something as an act of protection rather than withholding? 🤔 • How have I seen His strength lift me in moments I felt least deserving? 🤔 • What does being "chosen" mean for my next courageous step of obedience? 🤔 • 🎺 Affirmation: You are not overlooked. You are being shaped, strengthened, and positioned. God has woven resilience into your spirit, and He will reveal the fullness of your calling in His perfect time. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the honour of being chosen, even when the journey feels weighty. Strengthen my heart to trust Your refining work and to walk with courage into every place You call me. Restore my confidence, crown me with Your grace, and help me rise into the purpose You have written over my life. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There are moments when someone we love finds themselves wandering through a valley so shadowed that words feel small, and comfort seems out of reach. Yet this is precisely where the tenderness of Christ longs to move — not in grand gestures, but through the quiet presence of one heart willing to draw near. Scripture reminds us with gentle clarity: 📖 "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." — Galatians 6:2 (NKJV) Every time we pause to notice the ache in another’s story, every time we offer a listening ear or a prayer whispered in faith, we become a vessel of His compassion. The darkest valleys are never meant to be walked alone, and sometimes the miracle God sends is simply the warmth of a friend who refuses to look away. This is His invitation: not to fix what we cannot fix, not to carry what only He can redeem, but to show up with the steady assurance of His love. We become living echoes of His heart when we let kindness rise above convenience, when we choose presence over distance, and when we allow Holy Spirit to guide our steps into someone else’s midnight. There is a holy beauty in this shared pilgrimage. No valley remains untouched by light when the love of Christ meets a burdened soul through obedient hands. 💡Reflection: • Who in my life may be quietly carrying a heavy burden that needs my gentle presence today? 🤔 • What small, tangible act of love could reflect Christ’s compassion to someone walking through a shadowed season? 🤔 • How might I invite Holy Spirit to guide my steps toward those who need encouragement right now? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: You carry the heart of Christ within you, and your willingness to love makes invisible valleys brighter. Someone’s breakthrough may begin with your kindness. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, open my eyes to the weary ones around me. Let my heart be soft and responsive, ready to pour out the compassion You so freely give. Teach me to carry the burdens of others with grace, humility, and wisdom. Hold us steady as we walk together, and let Your light break through every valley we face. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a quiet ache that settles in the soul when you realise how much of your life was shaped by longing for the gaze of someone who could not, or would not, truly see you. Emotional neglect teaches you to read the room before you read your own heart, to measure your worth through someone else’s expression, to shrink or stretch yourself depending on what kept the peace. The irony, as the quote so tenderly captures, is that you spent years fighting for their attention, only to discover that healing requires you to stop looking outward and begin looking inward. The Lord, in His gentleness, invites you into a different kind of seeing — not the frantic scanning for approval, but the stillness that comes from being known by Him. 📖 "O Lord, You have searched me and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up; You understand my thought afar off." — Psalm 139:1–2 (NKJV) Emotional neglect creates hollow spaces inside the heart. Yet these very hollows become the places where Holy Spirit whispers identity, truth, and belonging. You begin to realise that the One who formed you in secret has always seen you, always cherished you, always held the fullness of your worth long before anyone else noticed. Healing means learning to listen to your own breath again. It means asking gentle questions without fear of judgement, noticing what brings peace, what causes tension, and what Holy Spirit is highlighting within. It means letting God rewrite the mirror that others cracked. Identity rebuilt in Christ is not shaky. It is not dependent. It is not fragile. It is anchored in Love Himself. 🎨 A Soul Remembered Like a piece of pottery once overlooked on a shelf, the Master Artist lifts you into His hands, traces your edges, sees the beauty beneath the dust, and restores every fractured place with gold. Emotional neglect may have hidden your shine. God’s healing reveals it. 💡 Reflection Prompts • Where have I relied on others to define my worth? 🤔 • What small signals in my body tell me when I feel unseen or dismissed? 🤔 • Where do I sense Holy Spirit inviting me to reclaim my own voice? 🤔 • What does God say about my identity in His Word, and how can I lean into that truth today? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation You are seen by God, loved beyond measure, and held with a tenderness no human neglect can erase. Your identity is safe in Him. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for seeing me fully, even in the places where others did not. Heal the wounds left by emotional neglect and teach me to see myself through Your eyes. Restore the parts of me that were shaped by striving and replace them with the peace of knowing I am Yours. Lead me into a deeper awareness of my worth, and let Your love become the mirror I trust. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a sacred honesty that rests within tears; a truth carried in quiet drops when the heart can no longer pretend that everything is fine. Those moments when the voice falters often become the very doorway through which the soul steps forward, revealing what words cannot hold. Tears have always been storytellers, carrying unspoken ache and unfiltered love in their fragile shimmer. Sometimes it is not weakness that wets the eyes but courage. Something inside us dares to be seen. Something once hidden finds the bravery to surface. Even Scripture reminds us that God pays attention to every tear, holding them with tender understanding. 📖 "You number my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle; are they not in Your book?" — Psalm 56:8 (NKJV) It is comforting to know that tears are never wasted in the Kingdom of God. They water the ground where new strength will grow, softening the soil of the heart so healing can take root. They are evidence that love was real enough to matter and brave enough to be expressed, even when it led us through pain. When tears rise, they often reveal where we long for restoration, where disappointment bruised us more deeply than we admitted, and where hope is still reaching for the light. Jesus Himself wept; His tears were a testament to compassion, connection, and divine empathy. Nothing about our tears is foreign to Him. In the moments when emotion spills over, the Holy Spirit meets us gently, reminding us that vulnerability is not a failing; it is a holy invitation. Healing often begins not in the silence of holding ourselves together but in the honest release of letting ourselves feel. 💡 Reflection • What pain or longing sits behind the tears you’ve tried to hold back lately? 🤔 • Where might God be inviting you to let go of being strong and simply be held? 🤔 • How have your tears revealed something true about your love or your hope? 🤔 • What would it look like to honour your emotions instead of apologising for them? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation Your tears are not signs of weakness. They are whispers of truth, courage, and unseen strength. God treasures every drop and meets you tenderly in each one. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, thank You for seeing the quiet places of my heart where words fail and tears begin to speak. Thank You for holding every sorrow, every longing, and every unspoken ache with divine compassion. Strengthen me where I feel fragile and teach me to trust that You gather every tear with purpose. May my vulnerability become a doorway to deeper healing, deeper hope, and deeper intimacy with You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is something oddly soothing about gathering a chaotic pile of towels and watching it transform into a neat, gentle display of order. The soft rhythm of folding becomes its own steady heartbeat. The quiet roll of each cloth feels like a whispered prayer. The simple satisfaction of seeing chaos become calm reminds me how even the smallest acts of service can turn into a quiet offering of love. Interestingly enough, Sandra spoke about chaos and thresholds at last weekend’s Life Beyond Trauma seminar, and something in me stirred when I remembered it this morning. Chaos is not simply disorder; it is holy invitation. It is often the threshold between what was and what is becoming, the doorway God uses to usher us into healing we did not even know we needed. I have been volunteering to do this almost every day this year. Usually, Roland and I stand at the counter in the Business Lounge at The Crate, immersed in intense conversations while our hands move almost automatically like a factory line. I fold and he rolls them to fill up the crates for the bathrooms. He was not in this morning, so I slipped upstairs into the laundry, tucked away from sight, and allowed the stillness to wrap around me. It felt right to fold and pray, unseen and unhurried fo.r the next hour. As I gathered the unruly pile of towels, I felt that familiar tug in my spirit. The soft rhythm of folding became more than a task. The quiet folding of each cloth felt like a gentle unravelling of the knots within me. Watching chaos settle into calm reminded me that perhaps there is more to this small ritual than meets the eye. I have never been one to do things to be seen. What began as a practical task, a ministry of helps, has become a tender ritual that steadies my thoughts. These small white towels seem to mirror the moments in life that feel jumbled, scattered, and out of place. As I roll them and place them into the crate, I am reminded that God is a God of order, peace, and gentle restoration. Much like Roland and I care to do this with excellence, God quietly arranges what feels messy. He even cares about the details no one else notices. 📖 "Let all things be done decently and in order." — 1 Corinthians 14:40 (NKJV) In the quiet corners of the day, He meets me. In the hidden tasks, He strengthens me. In the small, faithful rhythms, He restores my soul. 📖 "Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men." — Colossians 3:23 (NKJV) The pile never complains or rushes me. It simply waits for loving hands to shape it back into purpose. In the same way, my heart often feels like that first photo — a heap of undone edges, weary from many things. The second photo feels like hope — evidence that intentional care and a willing heart can turn anything into beauty. These quiet moments remind me that even the most mundane tasks can be threads in the tapestry of service. God sees. God smiles. God strengthens. Nothing is wasted when done in love. 💡 Reflection: • Where might God be inviting me to find peace in the simple, unseen tasks? 🤔 • How do small acts of order bring rest to my heart and mind? 🤔 • What is one ordinary routine that becomes sacred when I invite God into it? 🤔 • Where in my life do I feel a little like that first pile of towels — jumbled, overwhelmed, or out of place? 🤔 • What simple rhythm or daily act might God use to bring calm and clarity back into my spirit? 🤔 • How is God inviting me to serve quietly in this season, trusting that He sees every unseen offering? 🤔 • Where in my life does the chaos feel less like a burden and more like a threshold God is inviting me to step across? 🤔 • How is God using simple daily rhythms to bring clarity, healing, or grounding into my spirit? 🤔 • What hidden acts of faithfulness is He using to shape me for the next season? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am held by a God who brings order to my chaos and peace to my heart. Even my smallest acts of service carry eternal worth. I am being gently led across holy thresholds. God brings order to my chaos, calm to my spirit, and purpose to my hands. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, thank You for meeting me in the quiet places, in tasks that feel small yet carry deep significance and steady my soul. Teach me to serve without seeking notice and to rest in the assurance that You see every hidden act of love. Teach me to recognise the thresholds hidden inside my everyday rhythms. Bring Your peace into the scattered places of my heart and guide me with tenderness into the order You are establishing. Shape me through each unseen offering and make me attentive to Your presence in the quiet moments. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There are days when you step into the studio with purpose in your heart and a vision in your hands, only to feel that first unexpected splash under your feet. What was meant to be a gentle afternoon of preparing for tomorrow’s paint party suddenly and this afternoon's Healing 💔heARTs💖 Encounter group shifts; water has seeped through the mat again, a quiet reminder of Tuesday’s heavy rain. It catches you off guard, unsettles the rhythm, and pulls you back to memories of the 2023 floods that tested more than the foundations of this room. This makes it the fifth time since then, and the weight of that repetition rests on the chest for a moment longer than it should. There is a pause where disappointment rises and tiredness whispers, yet the Lord meets us even here. He steps into the puddles with us, steady and unshaken, reminding us that His presence is not confined to the moments that run smoothly. Plans may derail, yet His grace steadies the heart. Storms may seep in, yet His strength clears the path. 📖 "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you." — Isaiah 43:2 (NKJV) Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is acknowledge the frustration, breathe, lift our eyes, and let Him guide us forward one step at a time. Even if the first step is taken with wet feet. 💡Reflection: • Where have unexpected storms tried to unsettle your peace recently? 🤔 • What rises in your heart when plans fall through, and how might God be meeting you there? 🤔 • How has God carried you through waters in the past, and what does that remind you about today? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am not alone in unexpected storms. God stands with me in every flooded place, steadying my heart and guiding my steps with love. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, thank You for meeting me even in the places that feel inconvenient, overwhelming, or wearying. Strengthen my heart when plans unravel, and remind me that You are present in every detail. Help me notice Your nearness, lean into Your grace, and walk forward with peace, regardless of how the day begins. Restore joy to my preparation and bless the work of my hands. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

This morning’s Business Leader Breakfast left me carrying thoughts that continue to echo through my heart, stirring something deeper than professional curiosity. These were not just leadership insights; they were invitations to look at generations coming behind us with compassion, accountability, and hope. Elias spoke about the younger generation — not with criticism, but with deep concern and responsibility — a call to seasoned leaders to pause, understand their world, and shepherd them with grace. Many of today’s young adults never had the chance to develop relational maturity in the way previous generations did. COVID-19 shaped their schooling, their social worlds, and their emotional development. They are digital natives who can navigate screens effortlessly; however, asking them to pick up a phone and have a real conversation often triggers reluctance and anxiety. Quite frankly, I know that angst all too well, having grown up in a house where parents were always working and when home, they were emotionally absent. I judged them as uncaring, cold and distant and vowed never to become like them. In my judgment, I dishonoured them and set myself up for sowing and reaping, resulting in becoming just like them and repeating the same patterns. Sound familiar?🤔 AI now handles the simple tasks that once helped build confidence in young workers. Those small stepping stones that once nurtured emotional resilience have been replaced by technological shortcuts. Elias asked a question that continues to sit with me: What are we, as mature Christian leaders, doing to guide this next generation in ways that honour our faith and their humanity? 🤔Business culture often prioritises results over relationships; however, Jesus calls us to make disciples, not machines. We are meant to be people who see, guide, nurture, and uplift. Then there are the repercussions of the COVID-19 lockdowns. The ten or twelve-year-olds of today were young children when the world shut down. They couldn't learn to read faces hidden behind masks. They missed the natural social cues that shape emotional intelligence. Their development lagged through no fault of their own. Yet, my opinion may not be received well by my generation. I believe that it reaches even deeper than the pandemic. We have raised these generations while carrying our own unhealed wounds. Many of us grew up without emotionally present adults, then entered parenthood or leadership unequipped. We were busy working, overwhelmed, or distracted by the digital world. Conversations became sparse. Family dinners disappeared. Emotional expression was often suppressed rather than guided. We did not consistently model communication, emotional regulation, conflict resolution, or healthy attachment — so our children learned what they lived. If we never learned to have meaningful conversations with the adults in our world, how could we have naturally taught our children to have them?🤔 When conversation is unfamiliar, fear and avoidance grow. When connection lacks safety, anxiety takes root. Relational avoidance often springs from relational neglect. Much of the reluctance this young generation feels around phone calls or personal interactions is not a mystery, nor is it rebellion; it is a symptom. A mirror— reflecting back the places where we, as parents, caregivers, leaders, and communities, were absent, overwhelmed, distracted, or simply unequipped. Children become emotionally mature when raised in emotionally mature environments. Children become secure when raised by secure adults. Children learn empathy from being empathised with. Children learn courage when someone stands beside them long enough to show them how. If we never learned meaningful conversation in our own childhood, how could we have taught it to the children entrusted to us? 🤔 Children become emotionally mature when raised by emotionally mature adults. They become secure when surrounded by those who model security. They learn empathy from being empathised with. They learn courage when supported long enough to try. There is good news: we have an opportunity to undo so much of the damage. Generational trauma is not permanent; it can be interrupted.. Emotional disconnect is not destiny; it can be healed. The tide can turn — and it can begin with us. It starts with ownership. We must take ownership of our part in what we see around us. We must acknowledge where we have contributed to the fragmentation we see among younger generations. We must repent where necessary, ask for forgiveness where relationships have been strained, and choose intentionally to model something better. Connection is always learned from someone who offers it first. We must repent where our lack of presence created gaps, seek forgiveness where relationships have been strained, and choose intentionally to model connection again. Healing begins with humility. Restoration begins with responsibility. If we want to empower younger generations to rise above their anxieties and cultivate meaningful relationships, it starts with us — with rebuilding the dinner tables, restoring conversations, and choosing presence over productivity. It begins with slowing down long enough for their hearts to feel seen. The buck can stop with us, and the blessing can begin with us. We have the privilege — and responsibility — to be the turning point. 📖 "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." — Proverbs 22:6 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: • Where have I unintentionally modelled disconnection, and how can I begin restoring connection today? 🤔 • Who in the younger generation is God inviting me to invest in with patience and presence? 🤔 • What conversations, rhythms, or family practices need to be restored or rebuilt in my own world? 🤔 • What fear or avoidance in myself have I passed down, and how can healing begin with me? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am a restorer of connection, a carrier of compassion, and a bridge for generations. Healing flows through me as I choose presence, grace, and intentional love. The buck stops with me, and the blessing begins with me. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for entrusting me with influence, leadership, and the privilege of shaping lives around me. Please heal the places in me that did not receive connection, so that I may offer connection freely. Restore what has been lost in our families, our communities, and our younger generations. Teach me to be present, patient, and courageous as I guide others toward emotional and spiritual maturity. May my life carry Your compassion, and may my leadership reflect Your heart. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

This morning, as I reflected on the teaching from our seminar and the conversation with Roland that followed, I sensed a tender invitation from Holy Spirit to look again at anger — not as a moral failure, but as a messenger of the heart. So much of what we call "anger" is not anger at all; it is the eruption, the overflow, the visible flame of something buried far beneath the surface. Unhealed pain never stays quiet, and trauma buried alive stays alive. It may lie dormant for a time, but eventually it rises, often disguised as anger, irritation, defensiveness, or emotional overwhelm. These responses are not random. They are survival mechanisms — the heart’s attempt to protect itself when it feels unsafe, unseen, dishonoured, or unheard. Anger is part of the fight response — a trauma response that forms when a person has lived through experiences too overwhelming to process. These roots may reach back decades, sometimes even to childhood, infancy, or the womb. Trauma overloads the capacity of the heart, and the body carries what the soul cannot yet speak. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) 🌋 Anger and the Wounded Heart The trauma material reminds us that unresolved wounds affect every part of our being — emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual. Trauma can: • Disrupt sleep and rest • Trigger anxiety and hypervigilance • Impact concentration and memory • Cause chronic pain, body tension, and physical illness • Lead to depression, shame, hopelessness, or emotional numbness • Create patterns of withdrawal, people-pleasing, performance, or control These are not signs of weakness. They are signs of a heart trying to survive. Trauma teaches the body and the nervous system to stay on high alert. For some, the eruption of anger is simply the moment the internal pressure becomes too great to hide. 📖 "Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my anxieties." — Psalm 139:23 (NKJV) When anger rises like a volcano, it often feels sudden and overwhelming, as though something inside finally burst through the surface. Yet beneath every eruption there is always a story. Anger is not the root; it is the visible flame of deeper, quieter pain waiting to be acknowledged and healed. Anger becomes the eruption only when the heart has already reached capacity. The surface heat is simply revealing a tender place below, a place Jesus longs to touch with kindness, truth, and restoration. 🌋 The Eruption (What We See) The outward expression — the raised voice, the sharp tone, the withdrawal, the sudden reaction — is simply the overflow. Like lava spilling over the edges of a volcano, anger shows us that something internal has been brewing for a long time. If left unchecked, anger can spill into hurtful words, broken connections, and cycles of shame. Yet Jesus does not meet us with judgment when we erupt; He meets us with understanding. 📖 "He restores my soul." — Psalm 23:3 (NKJV) He sees beneath the lava. He sees the heart. 🌋 The Hidden Volcano (What’s Beneath the Surface) Below every eruption lies a landscape of tender emotions: • Fear — of being abandoned, rejected, or misunderstood • Hurt — wounds still aching, memories still alive • Injustice — something deeply unfair that pierced the soul • Disappointment — hope deferred, expectations unmet • Shame — feeling not enough or too much • Rejection — the sting of not being chosen or valued • Guilt — feeling responsible for what was never ours to carry • Helplessness — the sense of losing control • Overwhelm — when life becomes too heavy to hold These are not sins. These are wounds. These emotional layers form the molten core beneath the “volcano.” When pressure builds and the heart has no safe release, the eruption follows. This is why anger is not a primary emotion; it is a secondary response, a signal pointing toward something underneath that Jesus desires to bring into His light. These are the beloved places Jesus moves toward — with tenderness, not accusation. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) 🌋 The Levels of the Heart (Before the Eruption) 1. Calm — feeling grounded, peaceful, connected. 2. Unsettled — unsure, stretched, or challenged. 3. Bubbling Up — frustrated, worried, nervous. 4. Rumbling — annoyed, upset, stressed, close to erupting. 5. Exploding — overwhelmed, reactive, out of control. Each level is an opportunity to pause, breathe, and ask Jesus: "What is stirring beneath the surface of my heart?" He never rushes us. He never shames us. He waits for us to invite Him into the deeper layers. 🌿 A Sacred Invitation Anger may feel like a problem, but in the Kingdom, it is often an invitation: • To look beneath the eruption, not just at the behaviour • To name the wound, not condemn the heart • To recognise the false refuges we have leaned on • To surrender the idol that promised safety but delivered burden • To let Jesus tend the places where pain still lives Anger is not the enemy. It is the flashlight revealing where the heart still aches. It is the Holy Spirit whispering, “There is something here I want to heal.” 🌿 Idols, False Refuge, and Tender Places Sandra’s words echoed deeply: “If you are angry, someone has touched your idol.” Not an idol of rebellion, but an idol of protection — the places where we have leaned on false refuge to survive. When anger rises suddenly and intensely, it often reveals: • a place where we were never validated, • a voice that was silenced, • a boundary that was ignored, • a need that went unmet, • a wound that was never seen. False refuge can take many forms — coping mechanisms, self-protection, perfectionism, withdrawal, or even control. They promise safety but ultimately burden the soul. When these places are touched, the heart reacts. Jesus does not shame us for this. He moves toward the pain beneath the reaction. 🌋 The Volcano Within: What Jesus Sees Jesus sees the little child who learned to survive by staying silent. He sees the teenager who endured too much too soon. He sees the adult still carrying wounds that were never resolved. He sees the heart longing for safety, connection, and peace. He sees the trauma hidden beneath the behaviour. Anger is never the full story — it is the smoke that reveals the fire underneath. 💡 Reflection: • What emotion might be hiding beneath my anger today? 🤔 • Where did I learn that expressing need or pain was unsafe? 🤔 • Which part of my heart still feels unheard or dishonoured? 🤔 • What false refuge have I leaned on to feel safe? 🤔 • What is Jesus gently revealing beneath the eruption? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: You are not defined by your anger. Jesus sees the tender truth beneath your reactions and meets you there with compassion, not condemnation. Every eruption becomes an invitation into deeper healing, rest, and restoration. 🙌 Prayer: Holy Spirit, reveal the unhealed places that sit beneath my anger. Bring Your gentle light to every wound, memory, and fear still held in my heart. Dismantle every false refuge and draw me into the safety of Jesus’ love. Heal the places where trauma has shaped my reactions and restore my heart to peace. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

This morning’s conversation with Roland lingered with me long after the words settled. It reminded me of something Elijah House has taught so faithfully: anger is almost always a secondary emotion. It is not the beginning of a story; it is the evidence of one. It is a stink finder, the smoke rising from a deeper fire, a present day fruit, a compassionate signal from the heart that something unhealed is still calling for Jesus. During the weekend's Life Beyond Trauma seminar, Sandra’s teaching deepened this truth even further. She recalled a pastor who once said, “If you are angry, somebody has touched your idol.” Those words were not meant to shame; they were meant to illuminate. They invite us to look beneath the reaction with honesty and courage. Sandra shared a moment when a family member dishonoured her so deeply that she became “so mad I saw stars.” She nearly passed out from the force of it. Later she realised the root was her pain around feeling unheard and dishonoured, a part of her heart that had not yet been fully healed. That intense reaction was never just about the moment. It was the echo of earlier wounds. It was a place where Jesus longed to bring restoration. In Elijah House, we are taught that pain buried alive never dies; it mutates. It shifts shape, hides beneath coping mechanisms, settles in the shadows until it finds its way out sideways. It rises through anger, defensiveness, withdrawal, control, or even a sudden wave of emotion that feels far too big for the situation at hand. The Cross remains the only place where these old wounds find effective death and true healing. Sandra’s reflection on idols of the heart wove seamlessly into this truth. Idols are not always carved images; they are the subtle allegiances we form in the quiet. The Kingdom of self is built every time we reach for: • a false refuge, • a coping mechanism, • an escape, • a medicator, • a behaviour that promises comfort but steals wholeness. When these things become habit, compulsion, or the place we run to for safety instead of Jesus, they become idols. Sandra reminded us soberly that every idol requires a sacrifice — peace, intimacy, relationships, clarity, emotional health. Yet she also shared a profound hope: the desert, the trauma places, and the barren seasons can become either a place where idols are built or a place where Jesus brings revelation. Every strong reaction becomes an invitation to ask: • “What has been touched in me?” • “Where am I still tender?” • “What am I protecting?” • “What false refuge have I learned to trust?” There is such gentleness in Jesus when these things surface. He never shames. He seeks the bruise beneath the behaviour, the memory beneath the anger, the wound beneath the fire. Only He can dismantle idols without crushing the heart they grew around. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) 📖 "Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my anxieties." — Psalm 139:23 (NKJV) Anger, then, becomes a gift when approached with honesty. It becomes a guide pointing us not to shame but to the places where Jesus is already knocking, already drawing near, already preparing to heal. 💡 Reflection: • What emotion might be sitting beneath my anger today? 🤔 • Which reaction this week felt bigger than the moment itself? 🤔 • What idol might have been touched — approval, control, safety, reputation, comfort? 🤔 • Where have I reached for false refuge instead of Jesus? 🤔 • What might Jesus be inviting me to surrender or bring into His light today? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: You are held by a God who sees beyond your reactions into the tender truth of your story. Even your strongest emotions are invitations into deeper freedom. Nothing is too tangled for His healing, and nothing is too hidden for His restoring love. 🙌 Prayer: Holy Spirit, reveal every place where my reactions point to unresolved pain. Show me the idols I have built in the quiet places of my heart and lead me away from false refuge into the rest that only Jesus can give. Heal the wounds I have buried, dismantle every false comfort, and turn the desert places within me into spaces of revelation. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a quiet ache that rises when value goes unrecognised. The image of a rough stone beside a brilliant-cut diamond reminds me how easily worth can be overlooked when held by hands that do not understand its beauty. A diamond in the wrong hands is treated as ordinary; however, its essence never changes. Its brilliance remains, waiting for the right light. I have learned through many seasons that an environment, relationship, or moment that cannot honour what God has placed within me does not diminish the gift, the calling, or the worth He wove into my life. My value is not determined by those who cannot see it. My potential is not reduced by those who mishandle it. My beauty is not lessened when misunderstood or ignored. 📖 "For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." — 1 Samuel 16:7 (NKJV) There is comfort in knowing that God sees the diamond even when others see only a stone. He knows the hidden facets, the internal fire, the years of pressure that shaped something precious. Nothing about His workmanship becomes less simply because someone else fails to recognise it. There have been seasons in my own life when I felt unseen or undervalued, moments where my heart whispered, "Maybe I am ordinary after all." Yet God, in His kindness, kept reminding me that worth is not bestowed by people. It is breathed by Him. People can mishandle, misunderstand, or misjudge — nonetheless, they cannot alter what He has made. In the right hands, a diamond is treasured. In the right environment, it shines. In the right season, its beauty becomes unmistakable. This truth brings deep rest to my spirit: being in the wrong place never changes my essence; it simply reveals that God intends to move me somewhere I can flourish. 💡 Reflection: • Where have I felt undervalued, and what might God be inviting me to see about my worth today? 🤔 • Which environments make my God-given brilliance shine most naturally? 🤔 • What does it mean for me to trust that God sees me fully, even when others do not? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am God-crafted, God-valued, and God-seen. No misplaced season can dim what He has placed within me. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for seeing my heart when others may overlook it. Thank You for shaping me with intention, beauty, and purpose. Help me rest in the truth that my worth comes from You alone. Lead me into environments where Your light in me can shine freely, and guard my heart from every lie that whispers I am less than You created me to be. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There are moments when an ordinary conversation becomes a mirror, held gently by the Lord, revealing where He has been reshaping the innermost parts of my heart. Today’s conversation with Elias felt like that, a quiet affirmation, a gentle correction, and a reminder that God’s wisdom is always kinder than my striving. He stopped by the front desk for coffee, having returned from spending several days in China and then came towards me, where I was working in the business lounge. There was a softness to the moment, a grace I had not felt for a long time. No anxiety rose in my chest, no tightening of the breath. It seems my last prayer ministry session has begun to soothe the bruising of the past year’s wounding, easing places that once felt raw and guarded. What followed was an unexpected, encouraging conversation — one that reminded me of the gentle ways God restores confidence and relationships.  When he asked how the Life Beyond Trauma seminar went, my heart warmed instantly. It was brilliant, not because I was on the ministry team, but precisely because I wasn’t. I had expected to serve, to lead, to carry responsibility. That is usually where I find myself. Yet God whispered a clear no through Peter’s message: “We have enough volunteers. You can just come and soak.”  It still feels strange to write that. So often I equate serving with obedience, busyness with purpose, and silence with invisibility. The Lord is steadily, compassionately unravelling that belief. He placed me in the room as a daughter, not a soldier, and in doing so, He positioned me exactly where I was most needed.  Elias then spoke about the email I had sent out with all the details about the Life Beyond Trauma event. He asked if I had written it myself or copied it from someone. When I told him it was mine, he spoke words that caught me off guard. He said the writing was incredibly good, good enough that he questioned whether someone else had written it. The personalised stories, the flow, the clarity. He even rated it among the best of the copy he has read. I stood there, a little stunned. I felt that familiar mixture of gratitude and discomfort. I have always done a lot of processing with writing, yet I often hesitate to trust the gift God has placed in my hands. Elias simply said, "Don't underestimate your ability. God's given you a talent. Embrace it." A truth that landed warmly.  We spoke about the event being fully booked — over two hundred people — and I shared how this seminar included new teachings on chaos and thresholds, all resonating deeply with my current season. I can feel the Holy Spirit stirring the next pieces in me, unveiling what needs tending. I told him how God repositioned me this weekend, keeping me off the team so I could simply be present for one of my precious Encounter Group ladies who was struggling on Friday. I noticed her shoulders curved inward, the way her head hung down into her chest. Had I been on the team, I would have missed that holy assignment. I would not have been able to sit beside her, hover protectively and offer presence and comfort. Neither would I have been able to check in on all the others in our group who came. The Holy Spirit knew. He always knows.  God knows exactly where He needs me, and when. He places us where love can find us, or flow through us, even when we think we belong somewhere else. Elias then spoke gently about serving. He said it is important not only to serve, but to be served, because discipleship grows in both directions. I admitted this is where I am learning — asking for help, receiving and allowing others to be present for me. These are new muscles being strengthened for me. I told him I was working on it, and he nodded in response, "We are all a work in progress." We spoke about thresholds, that in-between place where something has ended, but the next thing has not revealed itself. I told him how the teaching stirred things inside me that I still need to sit with and pray through. I am in a threshold season myself. There are doors that feel half-open, invitations that feel half-formed, and a sense that God is unravelling old patterns so He can rebuild something truer, slower, and stronger. He asked about Clive and my trip to Wellington last month and I shared how the weather was wild at first, and how I have finally learned that travelling does not need to be a mission to see and do everything. There is rest even in exploration. Clive enjoyed not being rushed all the time and I enjoyed slowing down. I used to treat every holiday as a mission: see everything, do everything, squeeze meaning out of every moment. It was survival disguised as productivity. After last year’s ministry session with Sandra, something has softened within me. I no longer need to chase every view to prove the trip was worth it. I no longer need to force beauty into every moment. I can rest now. Clive can rest too. We wandered, lingered, returned early, and moved slowly. It felt like breathing again.  We spoke about his recent trip to China. He shared with that familiar spark in his eyes how vast the world feels when you step into places where nothing looks familiar, not the language, not the rhythms, not even the coffee menu. It sounded like an adventure, and he agreed with a quiet laugh. I smiled, realising that in different ways, the Holy Spirit has been doing the same in me. We laughed about how different we are. His wife calls him a traveller who does not travel because he rarely does anything touristy and he told me stories of navigating China through WeChat translations and blind guesses at Luckin Coffee.  It was ordinary conversation, threaded with small glimmers of God’s grace — the kind that whispers, "See, you are healing. You are growing. You are no longer who you were this time last year."  Yet even in that simple exchange, there was a theme: Learning to release control. Learning to trust the process. Learning to lean into what God is doing rather than forcing what I think should happen. Today reminded me that healing often happens quietly, not in the dramatic moments, but in everyday exchanges where fear no longer leads, wounding no longer speaks first, and your heart rests instead of bracing. Even though I felt ignored, betrayed, rejected, and abandoned by him earlier this year, I have finally been able to forgive from the heart. God is doing something gentle in me. I can feel it and in time, pray that trust and friendship will be rebuilt. That is the quiet invitation the Lord keeps placing in front of me. 📖 "He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul." — Psalm 23:2–3 (NKJV) Rest is not a retreat from calling; rest is part of the calling. Rest is where God strengthens what He has entrusted to me. Today reminded me of that again. 💡 Reflection Where have I noticed subtle shifts in my heart that show I am healing, even if no one else sees them? 🤔 In what situations do I still struggle to receive rather than serve, and what might God be inviting me to in those situations? 🤔 How do I recognise the Holy Spirit’s gentle redirection when plans change unexpectedly? 🤔 What conversations have recently affirmed gifts in me that I have been hesitant to embrace? 🤔 What threshold season am I standing in, and what is God forming in me as I wait? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am learning to walk with a quieter heart — steady, seen, and supported by the God who restores me from the inside out. Nothing about my healing is rushed or overlooked. Heaven celebrates every step I take, even the ones that feel small. I am growing, I am held, and I am becoming who God always knew I could be. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the gentle ways You guide my heart toward wholeness. Thank You for the conversations that affirm what You have placed within me and moments that reveal how far You have brought me. Teach me to rest when You call me to rest, to serve when You ask me to serve, and to receive when You send people to care for me. Help me recognise Your loving hand in every redirection and trust that You always place me exactly where I am meant to be. Continue to strengthen my confidence, refine my gifts, and deepen my sense of belonging in You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

I heard a whisper settling deep into the quiet places of my heart today, a holy reminder that realignment often comes wrapped in unsettling shifts. There are moments when God gently disconnects us from influences that once felt familiar, even comfortable, yet were quietly draining life from our spirit. This is the kindness of divine correction, a holy severing that frees us to breathe again. 📖"So they all ate and were filled, and they took up twelve baskets full of the fragments that remained." - Matthew 14:20 He is the God who breaks the chains of limitation, the unseen burdens, the inherited expectations, the whispers of unworthiness, and the strongholds that have attempted to define us. He clothes us in a mantle of authority, not born of striving but of surrender. This mantle enables us to take back what the enemy attempted to steal: our peace, our prosperity, our purpose. There is a holy courage rising within me, steady and sure, reminding me that I am not called to live beneath the weight of my circumstances. I am called to walk as His daughter, restored and realigned. Do not look at your present limitations. God multiplies the little, blesses the broken, and uses the willing. My "not enough" becomes "more than enough" in His hands. 📖 "And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus." — Philippians 4:19 (NKJV) 📖 "Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think…" — Ephesians 3:20 (NKJV) This is my season to stand in faith and trust the One who transforms scarcity into abundance, fragmentation into fullness, fear into holy confidence. 💡 Reflection: • Where have I been viewing myself or my resources as "not enough"? 🤔 • What limitations is God disconnecting me from in this season? 🤔 • How is He inviting me to step into a new mantle of authority? 🤔 • What does “divine realignment” look like in my life right now? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am walking into divine realignment. God is multiplying my little, blessing my broken places, and shaping my willing heart into something beautiful. My "not enough" is becoming "more than enough" in His hands. 🙌 Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You for realigning my heart, my path, and my purpose. Thank You for disconnecting me from every limitation and every influence that hinders my growth. Fill me with courage as I step into the authority You have given me. Multiply what I offer, bless what is broken, and use me for Your glory. Turn my "not enough" into "more than enough" according to Your goodness and power. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

📖 "He heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) Over these past five and a half years, I have often marvelled at how tenderly God used Sandra’s Navigating the Times and Seasons webinar to rescue me at a point when I felt myself slipping back into old shadows. Those three days of teaching became a lifeline, a gentle hand pulling me away from the edge and anchoring me once again in hope. It marked the beginning of my healing journey, one slow breath and one surrendered step at a time. Every teaching that followed — countless live sessions and video lessons — has helped unwrap the bandages around my heart. God has used her voice to peel back layers that were never meant to stay hidden, and He continues to meet me in every lesson with fresh grace. Watching her teaching series multiple times with my Healing 💔heARTs💖 Encounter Groups has become its own sacred rhythm. These lessons never grow old. Each time we revisit them, another layer softens, breaks open, or is restored. It feels like the Holy Spirit gently lifts one veil after another, revealing truth that heals and hope that breathes again. I remain deeply grateful for Sandra’s passion to heal the broken-hearted. Her obedience continues to transform lives, including mine. Thank you, Sandra, for pouring out your life so selflessly, loving so generously, and serving with a heart fully yielded to God. 🤗💞 I stand with you in your vision to change the world 🌎 one broken 💔 heart at a time. It has become part of my own calling, woven into everything I create, teach, and hold space for.

This morning, I found myself in a heartfelt conversation at The Crate — one that began quite casually but quickly turned deeply personal. We were talking about life, resilience, and faith when my own journey through depression surfaced. I was gently asked how I overcame it, and in that sacred moment, I sensed God opening a door to share not only my story but His deliverance. What followed was an honest discussion about how God heals the hidden roots of pain — the foundational lies we unknowingly build our lives upon. Lies like "I'm a mistake," “I’m not enough,” “I don’t belong,” or “I shouldn’t be here.” These are the silent beliefs that shape our identity long before we can give them words. Yet, the beauty of God’s mercy is that He doesn’t just patch over our wounds — He restores us from the inside out. When His truth begins to take root, fear loses its hold. He replaces shame with peace, confusion with clarity, and despair with hope. Through His love, we rediscover who we truly are — fearfully and wonderfully made, deeply wanted, and divinely purposed. ✨ This is the story of how God restores our identity from fear to faith. 1. The Lies We Come to Believe So many of the lies we live by take root before we even understand the world. Every experience gives us a perception, and if our parents never taught us the truth, those perceptions become our reality. One of the biggest lies I ever believed was this: “I shouldn’t be here.” I was born post-abortion, literally after another life was ended. We often fail to realise how this affects children in the womb, because we are spiritual beings. My first response to life was “I shouldn’t be here — I’m a mistake.” That’s where I came into agreement with the lies of Satan. He whispered, “You shouldn’t be here,” "You're a mistake" and I believed it. That agreement opened a door — a foothold for the enemy. When we say, “I’m a mistake,” the enemy says, “Let me help you with that,” and then surrounds us with people and experiences that reinforce that lie. 2. The Spiritual Impact of Womb Experiences This was all pre-birth. The womb should be a place of safety, yet when it is marked by fear, rejection, or trauma, that child absorbs it. If a mother discovers she is pregnant and her first thought is “Oh no,” that baby feels it. Even if she later loves the child deeply, that initial rejection can leave an imprint that echoes, “I’m not wanted.” I carried that for decades. When abortion occurs and repentance never follows, it spiritually opens a door. Every subsequent baby can be affected, carrying that same spirit of death over their life. I have fought that spirit my entire life — because, without knowing it, I had come into agreement with death instead of life. Science even confirms what Scripture has always said: children feel their mother’s emotions. When a mother’s emotions are in turmoil, a baby may decide deep down, “It’s not safe to feel,” and numbness becomes their protection, but when we push down emotions for too long, they will eventually come out sideways and we will erupt like volcanoes. That’s what depression really is — a numbing of the soul. Healing requires repentance, forgiveness and telling our bodies a new story: “Live.” “Breathe again.” “Heart, live again.” 📖 "I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly." — John 10:10 (NKJV) 3. Fear, Personality, and the Mask of Shyness For decades, I hid behind the belief that I was shy and introverted. I lived with social anxiety and avoided people — yet deep inside, I loved people. What I later discovered is that what I called “shyness” was actually deep rooted wounding. If you watch children, babies are naturally expressive and open. Then experiences start to shape them and some begin to retreat. Shyness often begins in childhood as a response to pain, fear, or rejection. It’s not a personality trait — it’s fear masquerading as personality. God tells us repeatedly, “Do not be afraid. Be bold and courageous.” Shyness is the opposite of boldness and if it were part of His design, He wouldn’t call us to boldness. When He created Adam and Eve, they were not ashamed. Shyness and hiding came only after the Fall. Over time, I realised that the more I healed, the more I became who I was meant to be — bold, joyful, and connected. One day, someone told me, “I see you as an extrovert.” I laughed at first. My husband of thirty-three years said, “No way, you’re not extroverted.” because he has only ever known the unhealed, introverted version of me. Yet I knew — something inside me had changed. Healing had uncovered the real me. 4. Unmasking Wounds Hidden as Traits God didn’t create us to be shy, prideful, or angry. Those are masks born from wounding. Pride and anger are other ways we protect ourselves from pain. Everyone is wounded in some way, and often, what we call our personality is actually our self-protection. Many wounds can’t even be traced back to clear memories without the assistance of the Holy Spirit because they begin in the womb. We assume that’s just “how I am,” when in truth it’s what I learned to be to survive, but according to God’s original design, we were created for love, connection, and community. Social anxiety, fear of people, or hiding away are not God’s design — they are symptoms of the wound. Healing restores us to the freedom and boldness we were born for. 📖 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." — 2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV) 5. Coming Back to Life Healing requires turning away from lies, breaking agreement with death, and choosing life again. When we speak words like “I shouldn’t be here,” we must repent and replace them with God’s truth: “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Healing is the journey from numbness to feeling again, from hiding to shining, from fear to faith. It’s learning to tell your heart, “You are safe now.” “You belong here.” “You were created on purpose, for purpose.” As I continue to heal, the shy, introverted girl disappears, and the woman of courage — the one God intended — begins to stand tall. 📖 "I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvellous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well." — Psalm 139:14 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: • What lies about yourself have you unconsciously agreed with? 🤔 • How might those lies have shaped your sense of identity or belonging? 🤔 • What truth does God speak over those lies today? 🤔 • How can you invite Him into the places of fear to restore courage and love? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I was fearfully and wonderfully made. I choose life, love, and courage. Every wound in me is being healed by His truth, and I am becoming who He always saw me to be. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for breathing life into me from the very beginning. Thank You that even in the womb, You knew me and called me by name. I repent for every lie I believed about not being wanted, seen, or worthy. Break every agreement I have made with fear or death, and replace it with Your truth and light. Restore boldness, joy, and peace to every part of my being. Help me live with courage, knowing I was created on purpose for Your purpose. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There will always be opinions and critics — voices that question, misunderstand, or misjudge. Yet I have learned to still my heart before the One who truly sees. I no longer live for applause, affirmation, or agreement from people. My gaze is fixed on Jesus. My purpose is to obey His voice, even when no one else understands. When I stand before Him one day, it will not be the crowd whose words echo through eternity. It will be His voice — the voice that calms storms and heals hearts — saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” That is the reward I seek. That is the sound I long to hear. That is the sound worth living for — the affirmation that echoes through eternity. Living before an audience of One means surrendering the need to please, choosing obedience over applause, and allowing your worth to be measured by Heaven, not human approval. It is a daily act of trust, a quiet offering of love that says, “Lord, all I do, I do unto You.” When your focus shifts from performing for others to pleasing the Father, peace replaces striving, and purpose blossoms where pressure once lived. You begin to live on earth as it is in Heaven — fully seen, fully known, and fully loved. So I choose to live on earth as it is in Heaven, before an audience of One. Every act of service, every word spoken in love, every hidden moment of obedience — they are all offerings laid before His feet. I live to carry a mantle, not to chase a platform, guided by the conviction that Heaven’s applause matters far more than human recognition. I'm moved by love and compassion, led by courage, and sustained by creativity that heals and restores. That’s the essence of living for an audience of One — eyes fixed on Jesus, hands extended to others, and heart anchored in grace. 📖 "Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance; for you serve the Lord Christ." — Colossians 3:23–24 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: • Where have I sought human approval more than divine affirmation? 🤔 • What would it look like today to live purely for God’s “well done”? 🤔 • How can I honour Him in the unseen, ordinary moments of faithfulness? 🤔 • Whose approval am I seeking most in this season — people’s or God’s? 🤔 • What might obedience look like if I stopped fearing misunderstanding? 🤔 • How can I offer my work, my art, or my service as worship to Him alone? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am not defined by opinions or applause. I live to please my Father, walking in obedience, humility, and love. I live for an audience of One. My worth is not measured by the noise of approval, but by the quiet smile of my Saviour. My reward is hearing His voice and following where He leads. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, help me keep my eyes fixed on You when distractions and opinions surround me. Teach me to live for Your approval alone, resting in Your truth rather than striving for validation. May my every word and action bring You glory, both in quiet service and bold obedience. Let my life be a reflection of Heaven’s values here on earth — pure, steadfast, and devoted. Let my heart seek only Your pleasure and not the fleeting praise of men. Strengthen me to obey You in the unseen places, confident that You see and reward in love. May every breath, brushstroke, and word become worship before You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

A love language we rarely mention is when someone works on themselves for the sake of the relationship. True love doesn’t just offer affection — it offers accountability. It is choosing to take responsibility for one’s own healing, to tend to the old wounds and untamed triggers that could otherwise become someone else’s burden. The opposite of this posture is resignation — the “That’s just how I am” that shuts the door to growth. Yet love was never meant to be stagnant; it is refined in humility and made holy in transformation. You deserve someone who recognises their harmful patterns and courageously seeks change, not one who expects you to endure them. That’s why I’ve invested time, energy, and resources to pursue my healing over the past five years — so God may be glorified and my loved ones no longer be bled on because of old wounding. I want my words, my touch, and my presence to bring life, not the residue of past pain. I long for my heart to be a vessel where God’s restoring love flows freely — not a place where the wounded parts of me leak onto those I cherish most.📖 "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me." — Psalm 51:10 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: • What does it look like to love others through your own healing journey? 🤔 • How has God used self-awareness to deepen your relationships? 🤔 • Which parts of your heart is He inviting you to surrender for His restoration? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: My healing is an act of love. As God restores me, His love overflows through me — bringing peace, safety, and grace into my relationships. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, thank You for revealing that healing is part of holy love. Teach me to take ownership of my heart, to confront my triggers with truth, and to let Your grace shape my responses. May those around me feel Your peace through my growth and humility. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

This morning, as I was listening to my audio Bible, a thought surfaced that gripped my heart. It was the story of Tamar, daughter of King David. It's a story that still breaks my heart every time I read it. She was violated by her brother Amnon, a moment that shattered her purity, dignity, and sense of safety. Yet the deepest wound, I imagine, wasn’t only the act itself, but what came after. When her father, David, heard of what had happened, Scripture records his response in one haunting line: 📖 “Then King David heard of all these things, and he was very angry. And Absalom spoke to his brother Amnon neither good nor bad. For Absalom hated Amnon, because he had forced his sister Tamar.” — 2 Samuel 13:21–22 (NKJV) Yet though David was angry, he did nothing. He did not confront Amnon, nor comfort Tamar. The silence that followed was deafening. And perhaps even more piercing than the violence was what came after — the absence of protection, the quiet dismissal of her pain, and the loss of safety within her own family. Some translations record David’s words: “Has your brother been with you? Never you mind.” (2 Samuel 13:20, paraphrased). What pain must have pierced Tamar’s soul in that moment — when the one person who should have defended her honour and comforted her tears turned away instead. The betrayal of trust. The absence of protection. The abandonment of love. I understand that pain. Having been molested as a teenager, I know what it is to carry a wound that no one seemed willing to acknowledge. To live in a quiet sackcloth of shame, wearing invisible ashes that others refuse to see. For years, I bore that silence — a heaviness not just from what happened, but from the unspoken message: You’re on your own. Yet even here, in this place of brokenness, God met me. He is not like the kings of this world. He is the Father who sees, the Defender who restores, the Healer who never looks away. 📖 “The Lord is near to the broken-hearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) He weeps over every injustice done in secret. He gathers every tear that others ignored. He wraps the violated and forgotten in His tender presence and whispers, “You are Mine. I saw it all. I will heal what was stolen.” What Tamar’s story teaches me is this: human protection can fail, but divine compassion never does. God is still writing redemption over the places that once held despair. The ashes of yesterday are the soil in which He plants tomorrow’s beauty. 📖 “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) 💡Reflection: • Have there been times when those meant to protect you turned away? 🤔 • How has God shown Himself to be your Defender in those hidden places? 🤔 • What might “beauty for ashes” look like in your story today? 🤔 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You that You see what others overlook. Thank You that no pain is wasted in Your hands. Heal the wounds of rejection and betrayal within me. Restore the voice that shame once silenced, and let my life testify of Your compassion and power to redeem. Clothe me, Lord, not in sackcloth, but in Your beauty and strength. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🎺 Affirmation: Even when others failed to protect me, God never abandoned me. I am seen, known, and loved beyond measure. ✨ A Note from My Core: This reflection comes from the very heart of who I am — a woman whose faith is her foundation, whose compassion compels her to reach for the broken-hearted, and whose courage refuses to let pain have the final word. My story is one of restoration — turning ashes into beauty, sorrow into song, and fear into freedom through the healing love of Jesus Christ.

Something that deeply struck me recently was learning that John Maxwell touches base with his longtime assistant every single day — 365 days a year. That level of intentional connection isn’t about control or obligation; it’s about care. It’s about remembering that relationships, not results, are the foundation of leadership. True loyalty isn’t demanded — it’s grown. It blossoms in the soil of consistent presence, genuine respect, and shared purpose. Checking in daily says, “You matter.” It communicates trust, not supervision; partnership, not hierarchy. As someone who treasures relationships and seeks to lead from love, this resonates deeply with me. Leadership, whether in ministry, business, or community, is never about managing outcomes — it’s about nurturing people. When we invest time in others, when we see them not just as contributors but as companions in the journey, we build something unshakeable. For me, this truth is a quiet reminder to keep showing up. To lead with intentionality. To value every conversation as sacred ground where connection, encouragement, and growth can take root. 📖 “Be devoted to one another in love. Honour one another above yourselves.” — Romans 12:10 (NIV) 💡 Reflection: • How intentional am I about maintaining relationships that matter? 🤔 • What simple act of daily connection could strengthen trust with someone I lead or serve? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I lead with presence, not pressure. My consistency builds trust, my kindness builds loyalty, and my heart builds connection. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach me the power of consistency in love. Help me to see people the way You do — worthy of time, attention, and grace. Let my leadership reflect Your heart: faithful, relational, and steadfast. May every check-in, every word, and every moment carry Your presence. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There’s a dangerous myth that whispers, “Fake it until you make it.” It teaches us to polish what’s broken, to hide our struggles behind smiles and to pretend strength where there is only exhaustion. We all know that "I'm F.I.N.E." is a lie we tend to live when we're not. Yet true growth doesn’t bloom in pretending. It begins in the soil of honesty — where we face what hurts, what failed, and what still needs grace. God never called us to perform our faith; He calls us to persevere through it. The refining fire isn’t for faking — it’s for forming. Every stumble, every tear, every moment of uncertainty becomes sacred ground when faced with humility and courage. 📖 “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.” — James 1:2–3 (NKJV) When you face it — not fake it — you grow stronger. You rise again, a little wiser, a little braver, a little more like Christ. Growth isn’t glamorous; it’s gritty. You will fall. You will fail. You will face it again. Yet each time you get back up, heaven cheers, and purpose deepens its roots in you. 💡 Reflection: • What challenge am I being invited to face instead of fake today? 🤔 • How has God used past failures to form strength and resilience in me? 🤔 • Where can I offer myself grace in the process of becoming? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I choose to face life with courage and truth. My strength is not in pretending to be whole but in trusting the One who makes me whole again. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, help me to face what feels impossible with faith instead of fear. Teach me to rise after every fall, knowing Your mercy meets me there. Strip away pretence, polish my perseverance, and form Christlike resilience in my heart. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.