Sometimes tears are nourishment to our soul in dry places. A healing balm when there’s been an ache in our chest.

Tears release, they cleanse. They’re healing, they’re restorative. They speak so you don’t have to. They do the praying for us when we can’t find the words.

Thank God for the example of David and his freedom to weep. I’ve felt it for a while and now I know for sure, tears are holy ground.

If no one ever told you, tears are prayers.

“You number my wanderings; Put my tears into Your bottle; Are they not in Your book?” Psalms‬ ‭56‬:‭8‬ ‬‬

I fear, for far too long, tears have been tolerated instead of celebrated. They’ve been kept hidden and often despised. Withheld for composure’s sake.

But give me devotion over composure.

Tears are expression in a culture of perfection.

Honesty, in a world full of performance

Tears are sacred.

All through the word we have seen the power of tears - Hannah, Nehemiah, David and even Jesus wept.

I’ve often found when I’m going through tough seasons, when hard things have piled up, that they come like a knock on the walls of my heart. I’ve learnt not to ignore them anymore. This knock is often Jesus showing me an area He would like to come into and tears can unlock the door.

Tears can be surrender.

I fear for many years I held back my tears to give the appearance of strength but holding them back for so long only stopped them up. Now I know that I am still tender because of the way I can weep.

I’ve witnessed so many times over the years how much of a gift tears can be. I’ve seen tears of healing and deliverance more than I can count. People releasing what has been stopped up for so many years.

Grief that has been long held. Pain that has been ignored. I’ve watched the ministry of tears change lives and bring freedom.

Recently while at Arise (the women’s event I run), my 7-year old daughter on multiple occasions began to weep in the presence of the Lord. And I heard Him say ‘I’ve given her the gift of tears’.

It stopped me in my tracks. They’re a gift of worship unto Him, a way to explain and express the heart.

Tears are prayers. They’re a posture.

Don’t hold back your tears.

Tears in His presence are not void of power, they carry weight and they have a return.

I remember in the hardest and heaviest season someone spoke these words over me:

‘Your tears of sorrow will soon be turned to tears of joy’

At the time I really didn’t believe them because my tears were full of sorrow, although I had read and often quoted Psalm 126.

“Those who sow in tears Shall reap in joy. He who continually goes forth weeping, Bearing seed for sowing, Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, Bringing his sheaves with him.”Psalms‬ ‭126‬:‭5‬-‭6‬ ‭

It’s a kingdom principle, that those who sow tears will reap joy.

I came out of that season and started to experience genuine joy. There would be moments where my eyes would well because of the joy bubbling up in my heart.

It was simple moments, moments with my family, moments where I was present, moments of purity. God had me write down every one of those moments and I’m still writing. I’m experiencing that return.

Every tear that falls with a heart postured in surrender is a seed sown into the fertile soil we call the Kingdom.

The Lord keeps watch over every seed and soon enough they bring in a harvest of hope.

We have dismissed, avoided and sometimes even resented tears. But they are sacred. Sanctified even, when met with the Lord. They are not empty, they are full of promise.

Weeping becomes joy. Tears become fruit.

Pour out your tears.

Suffice to say I didn’t have any time to write in the last month as I was pouring into this event in both the spiritual and the practical. Only those who’ve birthed such babies will understand the weight they can carry.

Writing on here sat at the back of my mind with no real place to go and I had to go with the flow until we moved through the event.

We put Arise on in just 4 short weeks from the moment we started planning. Now for those who shudder at the thought of this kind of timeline, I get it. But this is normal for me and the timing was honestly as it needed to be.

God truly knew I didn’t have the capacity to think about events until the moment when He whispered to my heart ‘pick it back up again, we’re going back to the beginning’. And back to the beginning we went. But I digress.

Truthfully, He knows He has my yes. It’s almost as though it’s knitted into the lining of my heart. So no timeline is really ever going to stop me from nodding my head and saying ‘ok’.

I don’t want to talk so much about the event though but the process of getting there. Process is the thing I feel God’s called me to breathe life on for people. The thing we’ve often missed sharing about in modern charismatic Christian culture. We preach about faith and miracles and moving mountains. And I love all those things, I’ve lived in those places but only because process has become a companion.

This was the 10th Arise event I’ve run in 4 years so you may think it would have come easy for me but this one was very different for a number reasons. This one came after a year off most ministry but particularly leadership. Particularly anything to do with a team.

This event came after I’d truly said (on numerous occasions and in numerous ways)

‘I give up. Pick someone else.’

This felt a little like learning to ride a bike again. Or maybe a unicycle which is likely a better descriptor for ministry.

I want to talk about the process of doing something (very) afraid. The process of finding yourself back in the ocean of unknown wondering if you’re going to swim… or not.

Saying yes truly is the language of surrender from a lover’s heart.

But yes doesn’t always come easy, nor does it come without pain or process.

I think we expect that our yes needs to be emphatic and free from fear to make it right.  But can I squash that concept right now? It often comes with doubts and questions. Sometimes over and over. And that doesn’t take away from obedience. I’ve come to think it may even add to it.

Obedience is saying yes despite your reasoning. It’s agreement with His will above your own.

It’s in my nature to say yes first and ask questions later. Maybe that sounds irresponsible. The truth is though, I trust Him and I’ve learnt to agree with His word and work through the details with Him as they come. I think that’s how we operate together. He knows that about me and He’s fully aware of what comes next. The ups and downs.

The ‘are you sure God?’

The ‘did you really say?’

The ranting and ravings of a devoted but very human soul finding her feet.

At the end of the event, a friend came up to me and said ‘I really thought you were crazy saying yes to this. I thought there’s no way, there’s no time. But I was wrong - thank you for your yes’.

It floored me. In the best way. And not just because He guarded me from that opinion so graciously.

The truth is though, we have to be willing to sit with that. The questions that we have but also, the ones from those around us. Not everyone will believe it. Not everyone will understand. You will likely look crazy. Maybe irresponsible.

Can you sit with that kind of bewilderment?

Can you continue to be audacious in environments that honour reason? That live in logic.

100 beautiful women filled the room on the night we opened. A sight to behold as we beheld Him together. And God showed up with such beauty and awe at so many times that we often looked around the room wondering if we needed to do anything. Not wanting to move or pick up a microphone. Yes, there were miracles and encounter and testimonies. And they all sat on the other side of ‘yes’.

This is the most important thing you’ll need to remember about your yes - it will be blessed. Sometimes it’s immediately clear like it was at this event but sometimes it takes much longer.

3 April 2025 I gave the Lord another yes. One which did not quickly carry the visible fruit of blessing. Actually it didn’t look fruitful at all at first.

Can I crush our misconceptions of obedience? It will not always be easy saying yes. It might be costly. There will likely be an upfront price to pay.

That cost may be to your own will, the will of others, the laying down of good things for things that are truly His. The cost of our fear or doubts.

I remember that day in April like it was yesterday, I got up and I said yes with deep grief. I wept. I wrestled but I gave it anyway. And like I always do, I walked through the details with Him later.

The cost of that yes was high but the blessing that came later has been manifold.

The other thing you need to know about obedience is His ways are also better. Don’t let your own understanding hinder your ability to agree.

If He said it, it’s good. And if it’s not good yet, He’s not finished.

On the Friday night of Arise I spoke about beauty from ashes from Isaiah 61.

It’s an odd turn of phrase when you think of it - that God would turn something that represents death, mourning, grief and pain and transform it into something beautiful.

He doesn’t remove the ashes so there is no memory of them, He changes their shape, their meaning and their purpose entirely. He takes something utterly dreadful (seasons, circumstances, decisions) and He makes them beautiful. All things become beautiful in His time, when surrendered to Him.

Death becomes life.

Suffering becomes glory.

He takes the things that have cost us, and returns them to us far more beautiful.

Obedience is more glorious than you can imagine.

So say yes even if your heart is full of questions and He will do what only He can do.

And if something beautiful hasn’t been found yet, He hasn’t finished.

Some instinctual decisions are more prophetic than we care to realise.

I named it after a poem I wrote about 8 years ago (I share it at the end of this). That time in my life was another Begin, Again moment for me.

Almost 10 years ago life and ministry changed for me when I went through significant healing and deliverance. I woke up one day after walking through serious illness with one of my babies and just fell apart. I couldn’t keep pushing on. After a battle with anxiety and depression on and off for years, I went deep to find the roots of these things and heal from them.

For the first time I sought professional help and shared with my counsellor about abuse I had experienced as a child within the church. Something that I had kept in the dark was brought to light.

Read more

She said ‘there’s a difference between wanting to hide and being hidden’.

She’s the kind of friend who knows how to bring correction wrapped in tenderness (a rare quality I’ve discovered). But I needed to hear it. And the journey through this Substack will likely show you why and how this lesson led to a great victory.

I thought I was being hidden. I thought I was choosing the quiet life. But after a while, a healthy amount of hiddenness really became self preservation. I started to hide.

Now don’t get me wrong, hiding is needed, especially when led by the Lord.

Last year I had weeks and months at a time offline. I had many weeks of tucking myself away. Ministry mostly stopped and then God had us travelling and spending our days in small towns and big cities away from everything we knew. I was hidden in the best way (covered, protected and held). Now slowly but surely God has been beckoning me out of the cave.

After walking through certain hardships or traumas, I’ve found that some of us are not so great at being seen… so hiding (not hiddenness) seems to help for a while.

Maybe it’s because I’ve spent my life living like an open book and pouring my heart out. Anyone else?

Read more

I wrote these words earlier in the year when circumstances were less than wonderful yet something in me was beginning to return.

I remember the moment I wrote it. The day had not been a great one but we had pulled ourselves out to get down to the beach anyway. I was sitting by the ocean looking at the water glisten under the light of the sun and a glimmer of joy filled my being. Don’t you love when the ocean sparkles?

I saw my children laughing and playing in the glitter and my whole heart was arrested with wonder.

Wonder at the expanse of the ocean. Wonder at creation. Wonder at the joy of my children and the fact I get to call them my own.

I wrote that little note to myself so I would know that regardless of the circumstances, I still carry wonder. It’s who I am. It doesn’t allude me. My heart can still sing and inspiration can still be stirred within me.

Even with an enemy on my tail or an immovable mountain ahead, God has given me (us) the gift of wonder.

I had forgotten. The enemy likes you to remember the things that will keep you crushed and forget the things that will pick you up.

I’m trying to integrate the discipline of remembrance into my every day.

I would say by nature, I am childlike. I feel joy in simple things. I love to adventure and create. I think we all are childlike at our core as sons and daughters of a creative God.

I don’t know if it’s just me but I find the closer I get to my Father and away from the noise, the more childlike I become. He has the strength that gives permission for it.

But that quality seemed to evaporate in the depths of our hardship. I lost the things that connect me back to me, to Him. When you’re really traipsing through a jungle of pain, one of the first things to go is your sense of wonder. You don’t just get tired, you lose your spark.

I’ve always been a head in the clouds type but I felt like chaos came and pulled me out of them by my hair. I started to lose my ability to see beyond. My ability to hope.

Suddenly the stars fell out of my eyes.

I’m learning that removing wonder is a trait from the kingdom of darkness and a quality that grates against the nature of our creator. The kingdom of light should be starry eyed. It should be filled with beauty and awe.

Sadly disrupting another’s wonder can be a quality others carry because they’ve struggled to find it themselves. Those so perplexed by your sense of vibrancy that they’ll try and dull it with their own outlook. It will be subtle at first, small grates, subtle gestures, crafty conversations until suddenly you can’t see rightly. It makes you feel small.

But you’re not small. You’re not dull. You shouldn’t be made to feel that way.

Keeping others comfortable with who you are isn’t your job. Read this again and again. It is not your job to make yourself less so that others feel more.

Maybe it was their words. Maybe even just intentions. Intention matters. I can feel intention behind every utterance these days. I can feel it behind a shrug or a smile.

Pay attention to intention. Discernment is the thing that gives us insight into intention.

Don’t crouch and dim for those who can’t find their own shine. They need to go to the source just like you did and come alive in Him. Pray that they find it, that they find Him.

Dimming others will never make you shine more.

Keeping your eyes on others will only magnify your own lack and shrink your world profoundly.

Whispering words to people about the way another walks is poison to your own light.

Pointing fingers will only point the finger back.

Eventually it will shine a light on your own nature and it won’t be a pretty sight to behold.

I’d much prefer wonder. I’d much prefer to wrestle with my own intentions. I’d rather have the creator examine my own heart than make anyone else feel small.

Have you ever felt yourself shrinking?

Move out from the stare of another and into the gaze of your creator.

Sitting under someone’s magnifying glass will make you feel small but resting in His gaze will fill you back up.

Fix your eyes on wonder.

Wonder can cause you to expand again. It fills your lungs. It brings the exhale you need after you’ve starved yourself of your own breath.

There’s a lot of talk about whimsy online right now and rightly so. We all need a little more whimsy and to turn our attention to things that capture our awe.

Not in an unrealistic way. Not in a way that ignores or avoids. But once you have felt what you need to feel, once you’ve sat under the gaze of Heaven, turn your attention to what gives life to your heart again and life to others.

I’ve learnt that the enemy works hard to steal our wonder. He’s a thief. He tries to steal the things that keep us alive in the valley of the shadow of death.

But it’s in small moments where wonder returns and you feel alive again.

It’s not big breakthroughs but the minutiae of daily life that moves you closer to the goal of grace. It’s choosing remembrance when forgetfulness storms the gates.

It’s choosing gratefulness when anxiety swirls.

You have wonder. It’s been innately, intricately woven into your being.

Remember that you carry it, even in the hard times.

Life has not allowed me the time and space to sit and write for extended periods of time recently which is why my Subtack has not been stacked. In many ways, I’m grateful for that because life has been full. Not busy or full in a traditional sense with work or ministry commitments but full of other things.

Full of memories as we’ve been spending time together and with extended family.

Full of the outdoors and lots of time away from the phone. Activities that have allowed freedom for our kids to learn, explore and roam.

Full of time and space to heal, process and work through things that we as a family needed to work through. And the safety to do that.

Full of learning. I think that’s what we’re doing most actually. Learning, growing and rebuilding. We’re sitting in the throes of His transformation and refining but what a blessing to have the space to do that together.

There are lessons you only learn in hindsight. And some I know I’ll share. Some now and others much later.

The reason I have a paywall is perhaps due to the most costly lesson of all, the pearls that we’ve produced in pressure over the last few years aren’t for everyone.

Let’s talk presently for a moment because we don’t know much of the future but I can share more of where we’re at on this journey.

In many ways, we are coming up to the 11th hour. I’ve walked with the Lord long enough to know that the 11th hour is always later than you think. His timing is different to ours in such profound ways that I’m learning how to rest in that and not rush the process.

Even though I’ve felt like we’ve hit the 11th hour many times in the last year, experience has taught me that we’re not there yet. We are close and it is approaching. Here is a sentence I never thought I would utter:

Read more

A day of waiting.

Wondering.

A day that tests faith.

A day that asks if what we’ve built our life on will stand even when nothing is happening.

Even when it seems bleak.

Holy Saturday plunges us into the unknown.

It’s quiet. Quieter than it has been in years.

Have you ever walked through a Holy Saturday?

This Holy Day likely felt like a day of mourning irregardless of what the future held. It would have felt cold and empty. It would have felt void of life. Can you imagine walking with Him and then walking a day void of His presence?

The pain of what was still very much in the rearview and wondering if the hope of tomorrow is lost.

Holy Saturday causes us to dig and to ask questions.

Was it all a lie?

Am I wrong?

Did I fail?

Is God still here?

But Holy Saturday fortifies you. If you will allow it, it arms you. Faith is built on Holy Saturdays.

The truth is this while Holy Saturday felt void, it wasn’t quiet at all. The victory was simmering under the surface. God was working even in the quiet. Even in the unknown. Heaven was preparing.

Heaven is preparing.

Even when you can’t see it. Even when you can’t feel it.

And that’s what faith is. Believing for Sunday when all seems lost. It’s stubborn. Knowing that it isn’t over even when it seems that way.

Knowing that since the time of Jesus, there is no suffering that doesn’t lead us to His glory.

The silence of Saturday will never compare to the roar of resurrection Sunday.

You may be sitting in the midst of one of these days. Seasons.

You may look around and see nothing happening. You may hear no sound. But He is working.

Sunday is coming for those who believe.

When Love that strong defeats all foes

You needn’t worry anymore

Because with that victory came true freedom

With that defeat, death has no sting

With that Love, comes enduring hope

And hope, hope will always be an outstretched arm because of the two that were nailed to the cross

“I would have lost heart, unless I had believed That I would see the goodness of the Lord In the land of the living.” Psalms‬ ‭27‬:‭13‬ ‭

This scripture became real for me in times of suffering recently. Particularly the last year. I truly would have lost heart. I truly would have given up. I would have struggled to make it through had I not come to know His goodness in deeper ways. It seems bizarre to call such a brutal event, ‘Good Friday’. But I’m learning that Jesus walking the earth and dying on a cross He didn’t deserve is the ‘goodness of the Lord, in the land of the living’ personified.

It’s knowing that He suffered and overcame that meets me in my hardest moment and carries me through.

Jesus didn’t just visit earth, He became fully man and entered into humanity to experience the full range of the human condition.

He understands rejection, suffering, abandonment, betrayal, grief, pain, broken-heartedness. He even understands what it is to be separated from His Father.

We have a saviour who isn’t just near in our brokenness, He became it to set us free.

Just in the lead up to the cross alone. In just a few days He experienced betrayal from Judas, abandonment from His disciples who couldn’t stay awake in His suffering, anxiety so real that He sweat blood in the garden of Gethsemane, rejection from His own people when they chose a murderer over Him and physical pain.

“But it was because of our rebellious deeds that He was pierced and because of our sins that He was crushed. He endured the punishment that made us completely whole, and in His wounding, we found our healing”

In the wounds that He endured, we find refuge, protection and healing. We find life.

The blood of Jesus was shed to free us not just from sin but from emotional pain, oppression, sickness and disease.

Jesus shed blood at many points throughout His crucifixion, his beatings and at the whipping post, when the spear was stabbed into His side and at every point that His blood was shed, it was covering us, restoring us, healing us and setting us free.

The blood He poured out at Gethsemane was His blood shed for the healing of our heart and soul. His soul was in such agony not just to empathise but to pass through the valley and overcome so that we could get through to the other side.

His blood speaks a better word.

It’s the blood He poured out at Gethsemane that was His blood shed for the healing of our heart and soul. His soul was in such agony not just to empathise with us but to pass through the valley victorious and overcome so that we could get through to the other side.

The cross is more than we could ever imagine. It’s Good Friday because the cross is heart-restoringly good news for all.

I’ve always loved this parable but I’ve not really related to it. That is, until I lived it.

I’ve never been the one that’s strayed. I’ve never willingly walked away or wandered out of my faith in defiance.

I always took that stray sheep as rebellious if I’m honest. One who chose to leave willingly in search of greener pastures.

We assume that perhaps that sheep wandered out of disobedience. And that might be true.

But recently God showed me that the wandering one might even be me.

I discovered recently that there are many reason sheep (in the natural) wander from their flock. It can be distraction or hunger. It can be because others left and they followed. But the main reason sheep wander from the flock is due to fear or illness.

We all can wander out of a flock and out of the protection of our shepherd and more often than not, it’s fear that runs us out. More often than not it’s pain, illness or even soul sickness.

Jesus doesn’t just pray for those people, He leaves others and pursues them. He doesn’t  forget about them, He seeks them out.

God brought this parable back to my remembrance many times in the last few years, to continually reveal to me that we can all be that one. And He wants to reveal Himself as the Good Shepherd.

There have been many times that He willingly pursued me and the restoration of my soul. There have been many times He showed me that my family was the one.

He was willing to rescue me even as I wandered fearfully out of the guard rails and among the wolves.

What if the one is the marginalised?

The outsider?

The mistreated and misunderstood.

The abused.

I haven’t strayed willingly but I have felt lost and broken in my own soul. I have isolated myself from Him and the fold not out of defiance, but because of pain, exhaustion and even abuse.

What if the one is the worn out mum? What if it’s the father under pressure to provide? What if it’s the man or woman feeling rejected and alone? What if it’s the exhausted pastor or the chronically ill?

If you’ve ever found yourself feeling isolated from the flock and wandering through wilderness wondering how you got there? Turn around, your Shepherd is never far behind.

Steady seems to win

Avoid the pride of hares

Keep the tortoise as a kin

I’d rather go low

Keep my heart upon the altar

Away from lofty standards

That wait to see us falter

My knees are on the ground

I’ll keep in stillness while I pray

It evades the loudest voices

Accusation and dismay

If I stay down here

Keeping balanced feet

I’ll avoid the bitter outlook

That holds me in defeat

I try to fight the battle

But my fists get in the way

He hushes my defences

And I rest in come what may

He takes me far above

When my face is on the floor

I know He’ll win the day for me

So I’ll stay sleeping in the storm

When I write, I notice I follow the same kind of pattern each time. I often open with my heart poured out, then I get really raw somewhere in the middle (enough to wonder if it will get better) and it always lands on hope. I started getting self-conscious about it. Can people sit with that kind of discomfort in the middle? Can they sit with the fact that our Christian life contains suffering?

I used to worry and I often held back from the honesty. That is until I read the Psalms and saw a similar theme. David never held back from pouring out His soul. He laments, he cries, he is even angered. He prays the kind of prayers that would make most of us cringe in the pew. Dramatic. Impassioned. Heartfelt and personal.

Yet every time he shares what he suffers or laments, it leads back to the Father. It leads us there too.

A lot of us have been acquainted with more trial and suffering in the last 5 years than I think our modern day charismatic Christianity prepared us for.

I wasn’t prepared.

I learnt all about calling at Bible College at the ripe age of 18. What I’m called to do, where I’m called to serve. How I’m called to minister. I learnt basic theology. I even learnt about Jesus and His ministry, never learning that if I followed Him, the actual calling was one that would lead me to carry my cross. No one talked about how I would struggle.  No one talked about what it meant to be buried with Christ as well as be raised with Him.

I didn’t realise that not only would there be suffering but that experiencing it would transform me in a way that often feels involuntary.

I learnt how to praise and hype a crowd but I didn’t learn how to lay on my face and surrender. I didn’t learn to weep and travail.

But when I studied the scriptures for myself and walked the journey, I saw a more authentic and deeply formed version of my faith than I was taught. I was shown that we are grown in valleys and refined in firey trials.

I actually learned that the Psalms, even the uncomfortable prayers and the long laments aren’t just honest, they’re actually worship.

Honesty is worship. Vulnerability is worship. Worship isn’t just a song. Worship isn’t always praiseworthy or loud or vocal. Worship is real, open-hearted, down in the dust surrender. It’s not a tempo. It’s not a sound. It’s not a slow song. It can be joyful and it can be melancholy.

Worship is our life laid bare. A life unhidden before our saviour.

Is it too much to really share what we’ve gone through? The depths of it. I share it because I figure that if I’m walking some level of hardship on this journey, surely others are. That if I’ve experienced heartbreak, grief and disappointment then surely others are. And if I’d like to hear that I’m not alone in it, I’m sure that others would to.

Is it too much to speak of our weaknesses? Is it too heavy to share our trials?

There’s a whole portion in scripture where Paul boasts in them. He boasts in what He’s endured for the sake of the gospel. We have books and chapters dedicated to explaining warfare and disobedience and trial and yet we keep those chapters of our life hidden.

Most of us Christians feel walled in when we face difficulties and it’s not because Jesus isn’t there. It’s because we’ve learnt to be ashamed of hardship instead of rejoice in it. We could be looking at Him. But the enemy or even our culture has taught us there is something wrong with us if we don’t have it all together. If warfare is in front of us, we must be doing something wrong but I’m learning it can actually be because of what we’re doing right. We have learnt to magnify our own failures instead of looking unto Jesus and magnifying His glory weaved in the midst of them.

Paul shows me that weakness isn’t something we should be ashamed of but an opportunity to find God’s perfect strength.

We have been taught to look for perfection in others, strive for perfection in ourselves and work our way into holiness. But faith and the Word has taught me Holiness found me. I don’t come near meeting the standard of it but by the grace of God, I can come near to Him. I can throw my heart on the altar honestly and openly and ask to be made whole. And the only way I remain that way isn’t by my activity, but my surrender.

If only Bible College taught me that who I am becoming is far more important than the work I do.

I heard Francis Chan say once ‘we’re called to confess our sins and hide our good deeds but we have a generation confessing their good deeds and hiding their sins’.

That can’t be truer. We hide and deny. But imagine if we flipped the script.

I’m not saying go tell the world everything. Don’t cast your pearls. We don’t need to share everything with everyone. There’s a delicate balance and we might get it wrong from time to time.

But let’s not hold back hiding our struggles to keep up appearances.

There are so many believers and unbelievers alike talking about ‘healing’ right now. It’s a hot topic. We’re exploring it in psychology, spirituality and theology. While the early days of Pentecostalism talked about lot about physical healing and that’s still a huge factor in our faith, we are now talking about soul healing.

We have a generation longing for wholeness and not hype. We want to be delivered from trauma that we’ve now learnt can be stacked up in our body and soul. We’re breaking cycles and patterns and we’re longing for freedom.

We want to heal our hearts that have been crushed.

But I’m learning:

You can’t heal from what you deny

You can’t heal from what you avoid

You can’t heal from abandonment when you continue to abandon yourself

You can’t heal from rejection when you keep rejecting how you feel

You can’t heal from relationship wounds while you remain in the wrong ones

You can’t heal from what you repress

You can’t heal with activity and productivity

You can’t heal by working for your value

You heal when you name it

You heal when you feel it

You heal when you hear your own heart and respond

You heal when you rest

You heal when you deny access to the things that keep wounding you

You heal in healthy relationships

You heal when you realise peace is your portion

You heal when you let the Light shine in

You heal when you invite Jesus into every broken place and ask Him to make you whole.

So maybe I’ll keep posting honestly about what I’ve walked. I’ll share lament and hardship and I won’t be ashamed because I always find Him in the middle of it. Getting to know Jesus and becoming more like Him is central to my faith and I’ve found honesty with Him is helping me shed what isn’t mine to carry.

Maybe it’s actually worship to give Him the problems I’ve been too weak to face on my own. And if I’m honest with Him and me and a trusted few, it’s worship to give Him the glory for what I could never do.

We are currently nomadic. My husband and I, and our four children.

We packed up and left our home on a wing and a prayer. We are living full time on the road for a few months.

Midway through last year we started to feel as though we needed to spend some time away from the Gold Coast. God was shifting our hearts. If I’m honest, I didn’t want to go anywhere. We just bought our dream home. There was comfort where we lived. Ease.

But we also knew that to really heal our hearts as a family, we needed to come out of the place we were living. At least for a short time.

Then we heard God speak. It was August. He told us both to go on the road for at least six months. It was clear as day and the plans just fell into place with ease. And provision.

When we left our role as senior pastors (at the church we planted) at the beginning of last year, we expected to remain in community and that life would go on as normal but God had different plans.

In fact the closed doors were truly leading us down His path. That’s what I’m learning. Closed doors, rejection, abrupt endings are often what He uses for His redirection.

We realised that to truly recover from the years on the Coast, we needed to be obedient to Him and follow where He leads.

Read more

I’ve had to learn the art of silence and restraint often in recent years. And as someone who feels called to use her voice, this of course sounds counterintuitive.

I’m learning that most disciples of Jesus have been tested in the art of restraint. And what I mean by that, is restraint in the midst of persecution.

Restraint when there is a demand for your response. Restraint when there is pressure being placed on you to say something.

Restraint when you want to defend yourself or restraint when you want to speak ill about others. Restraint in gossip.

Ultimately, restraint when you are being told to speak by anyone other than the Holy Spirit. It’s meekness and self-control. The truth is, not every thing needs our response. Not every one needs access to it. Not every one can hold it.

I heard recently that pressure that feels like it could take you out or that demands your response is often a sign of control. Sometimes it’s condemnation and not conviction. The Lord showed me recently that these pressures and demands on you, on your voice are often a snare to trap you in your words.

I see this Nehemiah. His adversaries, on many occasions wanted Nehemiah to step off the wall for the sake of a conversation. These pressures don’t always sound bad but we know Nehemiah refused. He refused to yield to pressure that would have him abdicate his position and his authority. They tried at multiple times and in multiple ways to get him to talk. Manipulating him into confrontation.

Not only did Nehemiah refuse to meet with them, he showed restraint in response. A simple response was all he gave. And no matter the pressure, he would not yield. He trusted the Holy Spirit. Even though their case against him grew, even though they slandered and accused, he was not moved by their taunts.

And most leaders I know have learnt the art of this kind of restraint and silence in the face of slander and accusation.

Many years ago I was in a situation where two people were on assignment to hurt my character and reputation. They pushed their agenda through gossip and building a case against me based on deception that was disguised as truth.

Read more

It’s not found in the what but the Who

My thoughts try to form it. This world. The critics.

But my worth was formed before the world was. It was created lovingly, by my Creator

For I was created by Him and in Him. I am His workmanship.

Moulded, formed and made complete. I can’t add to my worth with my work. Things created by Him can’t be perfected by me. I can’t value add my way into worthiness. So why do I try and complete what Grace delivered?

I’m learning worth can’t be earned but discovered. And unwrapped day by day. Like a big, beautiful gift bought by your best friend. By proximity.

Sometimes the loudest voice in my day is the one called unworthiness. Obnoxious, really. It yells day and night stirring me to strive. Perform, produce.

I’ve learned to silence it with stillness. It comes to a holt when I hide.

I fight for that hidden place sometimes, and often in a heap. But then His still, small voice comes and whispers gently until there’s no more room for loud.

Then I remember, again, I was called worthy by the worthiest one before the world began.

In this shadowed valley

Surely something will bloom after tending to the soil with tears

No doubt I’ll see hope sprout from speaking life over dead seeds

From laying my head and choosing to rest when my feet wanted to wander or run

Every so often the Light would hit here in this lonely valley and I’d be ok to stay

He’d meet me to shine on all the shadows

He was there tending to the ache in my soul

He’d listen to my heart speak when it had too much to say

But it’s never too much for Him. I’m never too much

So I would remain in that little valley knowing that all things become something good in time

I’ll walk out of death’s valley and look over my shoulder to see the garden we grew

Imagine finding flowers where fear once lived

Imagine seeing every barren place bloom

About a week ago I posted something on my instagram about restoration. I felt it deeply.

It came from a word I had been holding on to. Earlier in 2025 God told me to write down these words ‘pray unti…

Read more