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There are times when the daily movement that keeps us busy becomes a way to avoid being fully present. It is not that we do not know stillness or rest, but that there are seasons when the Lord invites us into a deeper place of being seen. I have been noticing how easily faithful activity can keep me moving just enough to avoid staying still with what love wants to touch. Not because rest is unfamiliar, but because movement can soften the edge of presence. Stillness removes di

Transition has a way of stirring the heart. It can feel like everything around us is shifting. Old rhythms fall away, new possibilities open up, and the familiar becomes unfamiliar. Even when the change is good, transition exposes the places within us that still long for certainty. And at this time of year, when the world invites us to strive, to achieve, to do better and be better, the pressure can settle quietly over the soul. But the kingdom offers a very different way of

There is a way of seeing intercession that brings the heart into rest rather than strain. A way that begins not with effort, but with Jesus. Scripture tells us that He lives to intercede for us. He is already before the Father. He is already speaking. Intercession does not begin with our words. It begins with His presence. When we intercede, we are not starting something. We are joining Someone. Intercession is joining with Jesus. It is letting our heart come close. It is all

Before we step further into this series, I want to encourage you to revisit the earlier post where we talked about Ephesians 6. The Surprising Truth About Spiritual Warfare lays the foundation for how we approach this topic. Today we are taking the next step, moving deeper into what spiritual warfare truly looks like and how we begin to live from a place of rest rather than reaction. What follows is not a shift into new information, but an unfolding of what the Spirit has al

There is a longing that lives in all of us, a quiet ache to belong somewhere completely, to be seen without fear, and to rest in love that does not leave. In earlier reflections we explored what it means to find secure love, and how Jesus heals the patterns that cause us to strive or withdraw. We also talked about what happens when we do not feel secure, when the ache returns or the ground beneath us feels uncertain again. But even that journey was pointing us toward somethin

Even after we have known safety and glimpsed the beauty of secure love, there can still be moments that take the breath from our chest. Something shifts, a silence, a pause, a change in rhythm, and suddenly what once felt safe now feels uncertain. It does not take much. A delay in response. A tone that lands differently. A conversation that feels off. The heart begins to ache before the mind can even explain why. And in that ache, old questions stir. Am I safe? Have I done so

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear…” — 1 John 4:18 We were created to be held in love. Not just emotionally. Not just theologically. But experientially, at the level of the heart, the body, the spirit. We were not made to perform for affection or brace against rejection. We were made to be received. To rest. To exhale into the safety of connection that does not flinch when we are in need. But for many of us, that kind of love has felt foreign. Even fr

There are some hearts that long for love and fear it all at once. They want to be close but cannot stop bracing for the moment love changes. They ache to be seen yet flinch when affection draws near. Love has never felt simple; it has always carried the shadow of pain. This is the disorganised heart, the one that learned love and danger in the same breath. It reaches out and withdraws, pleads to be held and then runs for cover. It knows it needs connection but fears what it m

Some of us learned early that closeness costs too much. That love could change without warning, that it was safer to stand just far enough away to avoid being hurt again. So we built our safety in independence. We became the strong ones; reliable, capable, in control. We learned to meet our own needs because relying on others left us exposed, and we told ourselves that we were fine, that solitude was strength, that needing less meant hurting less. But even in the calm of self

There is a love that gives everything but never quite feels safe to rest. It reaches, performs, and promises more, not because the love is shallow but because the fear of losing it feels unbearable. Many of us know this kind of ache. The constant scanning for signs that affection might fade. The need for reassurance that we are still seen, still chosen. The anxiety that creeps in when silence stretches too long. Beneath it all is the longing for love that will stay. Anxious