Tonight, I feel the kind of exhaustion that sinks into your bones — not from busyness, but from deep soul work. Prayer ministry can sometimes feel like spiritual heart surgery — holy, raw, necessary. Today was one of those days.

We uprooted strongholds.

Repented of sinful responses and harsh judgments.

Disempowered LIES that had masqueraded as truth for far too long.

Dismantled inner vows.

Unraveled the double-binds that kept me stuck in fear and self-sabotage.

One layer deeper. One step freer.

Thank You, Jesus.

This old wound — that abandoned little girl inside who learned to brace for disappointment — she’s not steering anymore. She is not invisible. She is not alone. Jesus has taken her hand, and mine, holding us in that sacred space where feelings no longer define identity.

So tonight, I choose to exhale.

To stop analysing.

To stop grasping for certainty.

To stop fearing what I don’t yet understand.

I’ve already chosen courage — by showing up instead of shutting down, by feeling instead of numbing.

📖 "When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I." — Psalm 61:2 (NKJV)

This exhaustion is not failure. It is sacred proof that my soul has done holy work.

✨ Rest is part of my obedience.

✨ Tears are part of my healing.

✨ Gentleness is part of my strength.

As of today, I refuse to live with the constant dread of something breaking. For years, I lived braced — waiting for the next emotional guillotine to fall. But no more. I may not have always felt supported in the past… but today I am held. Held by Jesus. Upheld by kind, Spirit-led prayer ministers who offered a safe place for my weary soul to be vulnerable, to release and to heal.

So I close this day not with fear, but with thanks.

Thank You, Lord, for showing up.

Thank You for doing what only You can do.

Thank You for teaching me to rest when the work is holy.

Prayer

Jesus, thank You for being near when the pain rises and the truth aches. Thank You for sending people to hold space for healing and for reminding me that I don’t have to carry what You’ve already carried to the Cross. Help me rest tonight — not just my body, but my mind and emotions too. I trust that You are still working, even as I sleep.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

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And if you find yourself in this space today, rest assured, you are safe. You are brave, beloved. Held. Seen. No longer living braced for the worst, but gently leaning into the One who restores your soul. Let yourself rest. The healing has already begun. 🕊️