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.

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 the final answer or a cure. 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. 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 be the result of a 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) 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 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 Holy Spirit’s compassion and the restoring power of Jesus. The Water Was Cold — When a Childhood Vow Broke Open My Breath Again 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 Holy Spirit uncovered this memory, 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 — The Morning Fear Lost Its Grip There came a morning when I woke before dawn, trembling under the weight of fear and anxiety. My body felt locked, braced for danger that wasn’t there. Holy Spirit gently led me into prayer, revealing how deeply fear had woven itself into my identity over the years. As I repented for partnering with fear and embraced the truth of God’s steadfast presence, something broke. 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. 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. Autoimmune‑like symptoms and unexplained inflammatory responses had plagued my body, 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 skin calmed. 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?🤔 A Gentle Call to Action 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 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.

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.