Encountering Christ | The Day I met Jesus at the Beach

**Disclaimer: I wholly acknowledge the possibility that this man was not Jesus. He could have been an angel or just another common man. But something in our encounter stirs my soul with significance – recognition in his words and demeanour. I would rather be wrong, than dismiss an encounter with Christ. For that reason, I will honour my intuition. 


We ran as a family down the familiar trail path- past the zigzag bridge, over the hills and through the park. We landed at the beach. Stopping for missy’s sake, we entertained child’s play- running over jungle gyms and flying down slides. We visited briefly with neighbours, then made our way down to the beach.

This beach has been home to many encounters with Christ – all of which, my nose was immersed in The Word and my heart, deep in prayer.

This beach has become holy, in the eight years we’ve lived here.

The sun danced across the water, for the first time, in what felt like months.

My soul was downcast. I recognized it, acknowledging just yesterday, the darkness around me: depression. I was in a pit I couldn’t explain away.

Just that morning I had surrendered, asking Jesus, yet again, to fill every crevice of my being with His love and Light and Power- that He would overtake and transform me, divinely, in every way available to a human being.

Because to the fullest measure available, I want Jesus- always more.

On the east end of the beach we met a man, quite ordinary looking- middle Eastern, or European, if I had to guess. His eyes were closed, chin lifted to the sun. His mouth was moving- muttering prayers, I assumed. Something in me recognized his posture.

As we passed, he made eye contact.

“Hello.” I gestured.

He gave a simple nod.

As we turned, I spotted him watching us intently, his gaze following.

We passed him again. This time, he knelt to missy’s level.

“Hello.” He said, his voice firm, yet gentle.

He had an accent I couldn’t quite peg.

“What’s your name?” He asked her.

Silence followed, as she searched the sand.

I answered for her. I knew she couldnt.

He laughed a sly smile and looked up at me.

“I was talking to her.” 

“Oh, I know,” I defended, “But she doesn’t speak much.” 

“Let her speak.” He responded, as if ignoring me…

“Excuse me?!” I thought, my pride wounded. “Who are you, to speak like that.” 

Missy resumed walking, my pride glad for the escape.

“Looks like we’re off!” I faked nicety.

A few steps forward I turned, my ego needing another look… Still he watched us, a grin upon his face.

“Leave her,”  he said, now pointing to missy’s inquisition of the Canada Goose. “They understand each other.” 

The goose had one leg. Worried she’d agitate him, I warned again. “Be careful, Sweety. Give the goose space.” 

I turned to acknowledge the man.

“Looks like the goose is hurt. Only has one leg.” 

“No,” He said, firmly, “She’s doing yoga… it’s a good thing.” 

I laughed. Funny, I thought.

“There’s a reason for it- the yoga…”  He followed up.

I was silent- perplexed. This was a strange man. Not only was he forward, His speech was cryptic, as if I knew the hidden meaning… as if he wanted me to ask another question.

But I didn’t- neither understand or ask.

I simply turned and kept walking.

I was puzzled and a little unsure about him; hurt even, by his authoritative, forward nature.

He was gentle, but his firmness cut me like a knife.

Minutes later, I turned to see him leaving, walking away, down the trail path we’d shortly return.


“What did He mean?” My soul tangled.

I felt like I had missed something.

Part of me wanted to chase after him, but I didn’t know why.

Only later, did I discover potential meaning, as if my spirit revealed His hidden message:

Let others speak first, Kailey. Don’t be so quick to talk. Listen. Let them surprise you.

Yoga: there’s a purpose to standing on one foot- learning to rest and balance in weakness. There, we find strength and peace, beyond circumstance.

Suddenly, I understood.

My soul affirmed it, as I read Jesus’ words the next morning in my bible: firm, yet gentle- authoritative and spoken in cryptic metaphor.

In the same way Jesus spoke to the woman at the well, this man had spoken to me. His posture and demeanour, identical.

Just like Jesus, He showed up in the middle of ordinary life, while on a morning family run, to redirect and change my heart.


This man had spoken life into two dark areas of my heart- places I’m currently wrestling and need assurance of his sovereignty in:

  1. my incessant need to speak and be understood-  and

  2. my current season of life, full of weakness and imbalance.

Gentle yet firm, this man, who I believe now to be Jesus, pointed me to Truth-  to the strength and peace I’m so desperately craving, in difficult, uneasy waters.


I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” –  Johns 16″33



When you desire to be fully Christ’s, body, mind and soul.

I woke up with a day to myself before me. My daughter was with her nama (grandma) and wouldn’t be home until evening.

Immediately, I knew I needed to spend the day alone with God, resting, praying, listening. I needed quiet and slow, allow solitude to nurture me back to health emotionally and physically.


Not only was I emotionally fried from weeks of walking a new season of life- one full of new work and new burdens that feel far to0 heavy to carry- but also physically fried. I’d hardly eaten in over a month and my lack of health had led to a poor immense system. Now I’m lying in bed weak and unable to do much anything; bone weary, shaky and light headed.

I felt weak emotionally and physically and I knew the place to start with restoration was spiritually; to connect back with the one who made me and knows me intimately, inside and out. 

I began simply by speaking what was on my heart- thanksgiving for all he had been doing and the ways he had prepared me for this exact moment in time, in my life, in history. I no longer doubted myself or Him. His plan was underway and the things he spoke and imprinted on my heart ten years ago, were starting to unfold. This was the beginning and I knew it without question. 


As fast as the thanksgiving poured out, the worry began. The fears next, but mostly the regret – the guilt that had consumed me for the past month. I lay it all out before God and confessed that while my heart and soul belonged to him, my body- physically- had not yet been redeemed and found home in him.

And like a revelation, I suddenly saw it: for years I have hated my physical body, beating it into submission trying to silence it’s voice. I had shamed her (my body) for not being what I wanted in each moment, whether that’s for vanities sake or the sake of wanting to be and do a million things yesterday. 

And then the vision came.

A picture formed in my mind of me walking- marching actually through life- dragging a dead weight body behind me, limp and dying; like Christ carrying the cross to calvary. Every so often I would turn and beat her, flog this body- my body- with a strap.

The little girl in me recognizes the body as herself and there I am dragging her and beating her for not being good enough, what I need her to be; for not being perfect. 


While God has changed my heart dramatically in regards to chasing perfect, I realize I’ve applied grace to every area of my life exact the physical.

Somewhere down the line I had divorced my physical body and cast her aside, refusing to see her any longer as important and part of me. I

n her place- one I used to lift up and idolize- I’d replace her with things of holiness and righteousness. Except how can one divorce their physical when it is the temple of The Holy Spirit? The home of the very one to whom my heart belongs?

God knit my body together in my mother’s wombs and then placed his Spirit within me. All of me is of him made in His image;  the spiritual and the physical, the soul and the body. And he declared it good. All good.

While God has healed me of my eating disorder and body image struggles,  I suddenly see in this vision that I’m still hating the work of his hand; his unique masterpiece, my body.

I’ve been blaming her, judging her and shaming her for being so weak and carnal. I used to beat her up for being addicted, trying to hide her brokenness- food, sex, exercise and busyness. And here I am continuing to see her as bad and evil- the enemy -who led me into temptation and into bondage for so much of my life. Who, if i’m not careful, will lead me back there; one who can’t be trusted.

All I’d done is deflect the anger I used to beat my now healed heart up with, to my body.

I’d chosen to forgot about her, declare her good as dead to me and carried on with the rest of my life.

While food, exercise and body image no longer control me, I’ve abandoned all her felt needs along with it- mainly physical rest and proper nutrition.

Sure I eat, but it’s not enough and not what’s best; only what’s easy because I can’t be bothered to care enough. I’ve thrown her scraps as she sits at the masters table.

Sure I rest and have learnt to embrace slow, but I’ve been far more focused on caring for my mind and my spirit than the physical. I haven’t given her enough sleep or physical rest on my sabbath. Like a mom who’s just given birth and heads into the trenches of motherhood; depleted and deprived.

And consequently, like the apps constantly running in the background of my iPhone, my body is no longer working properly. I am malfunctioning and short circuiting.

My lack of heath is effecting every function of my life and being. I need a reset. 


I turned on worship music- the playlist that somehow always brings me low; low in humility and I palpably feel the presence of my Lord and Saviour. I lay down on the floor and listen and wait. With my eyes closed I begin to feel myself respond.

In my minds eye I can see myself kneeling at the feet of Jesus, gripping his ankles with tears spilling down my face and onto his feet. I’m rocking back and forth, wailing in confession, when a sudden awareness of his love consumes me. I can feel it. And while I rock there telling him of all my wrong and bad, I can sense his acceptance and delight in me. Like he doesn’t see it or he doesn’t care. 

How can he love a wretch like me, I think; a broken, hysterical, mess of a woman like me?! Somehow he loves me and even delights in me regardless. But how and why? I cry in overwhelm now at the love and beauty amidst the ugly and hard. 

Then I see him get low.

He bends down, sits on his heels and facing each other, he throws his arms around me and embraces me in my snotty nose mess. He softly shushes me and tells me it’s ok and together we rock in unison of my wails.

He grabs my shoulders and with my arms pinned to my side, I see him stand me up and walk me to a stage in front of a large ground. He begins to tell the crowd that this here is his beloved, his chosen one, the women he loves completely. This is the woman he wants to spend eternity with in marriage.

The crowd stares in confusion at why such a man would choose a wreck like me. My wails get louder. I can hardly breath I’m crying so hard and I’m gasping for breath.

How? How I think to myself… why would you love this putrid mess? And to choose me? 

In this moment I’m completely undone. Physically and emotionally, I’m undone by this love. And then it hits me, from my head down to my heart: He’s not going anywhere and he’s dead serious.

Jesus loves this mess of a women; this makeup-less, snotty nosed and balling like a baby mess and he’ll continue to choose me and pursue me for the rest of my life. And he’ll keep telling me and showing me until I believe him. Until there’s no shadow of doubt left as to his devotion.


Photo Credit: Dragonflight Photography

I see my body fall to the ground, completely wrecked my his love and unable to stand any longer – a surrender – a death of sorts. Jesus falls to the ground beside me and puts his hands on my chest.

I see him lay me down and cut horizontally from my chest down to my pubic none. He opens me up and reaches his hands inside me. He cups my heart with his hand I see His love start flowing inside me.

I’m physically gasping out loud now and my physical chest is beating and rising heavily. Something inside me is changing. I sense it’s my heart physically receiving his love. 

He stitches me back up like a surgeon and then runs his finger along the cut. It’s heals instantly and in my minds eye, I see a scar form in its place. I think of my C-Section scar and how the greatest things of love in my life have required surgery.

….Like how something inside me changed and a love I’d never experienced was birthed after having my daughter. My physical body now wears that scar proudly and I sense the same happening here.

God is changing me internally and in receiving his love, a new love is being birthed now; a love that like the love for my daughter, will forever change me.

There will be no going back. I will be made new by this love. 


Photo Credit: Dragonflight Photography

In my own resurrection, I now see myself rising to heaven; my soul ascending, Jesus lifting it below me.

The sky is moving around me and suddenly I see myself standing in the throne room before God, Jesus presenting me to his father.

“This is my chosen- my beloved- my bride.” I hear him say. “And I want to marry her.”

Now the throne room turns into a wedding and like the infamous first dance, I’m dancing with my Saviour – my now husband.

At first my feet are perched on his and he’s carrying me, swaying me to the music. My head is nestled in the book of his neck and every so often he kisses my forehead.

The music changes and as the pace picks up, I’m realize I’m now dancing on my own two feet. I’m laughing while together Jesus and I twirl and dance before God the Father and a crowd of heavenly witnesses.


Photo Credit: Ameris

Suddenly I see us lying in bed and the scene turns deeply intimate. Like a bridegroom and his beloved on their first night as man and wife. I witness in my minds eye a joining of two becoming one. And when it’s over, I’m exhausted, lying in a lovers coma. 

Somehow my heart knows what’s just happened:

Jesus has taken me as his own.  

Not just spiritually through my decision to follow Christ…

Not just emotionally in my learning to pray and share my heart with him unashamed…

But physically.

We are now united fully as one.

He mine and me his. 


Photo Credit: Ameris

“And nothing will ever change that.” I utter out loud.

My flesh – my body – has been redeemed.  God has given me a gift in this vision; this meditative prayer of sorts.

When my mind doubts his love, my heart and body will now remember. I’ll be forever stamped, unable to doubt his love for me. 

And if Jesus loves me this much, I must begin to love me too- fully, wholly, relentlessly- including my body.



When something feels different and you realize you’re in the wilderness

I’ve felt mostly silent the last few weeks, with little to say other than a few pointed things here and there about subjects close to my heart right now; mainly on the topic of pain, suffering and how we ultimately find healing in Jesus. But besides that, I’ve wanted nothing more than to retreat to solitude, spending aimless hours alone in quiet, prayer and reading.

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In my times of solitude, my heart has felt heavy; the unhealed burdens of my past still hanging on. It’s been a long season of healing for me these past 24 months, but the healing that I’ve been experiencing as of late is different- deeper than behavioural modifications. I’m talking about genuine heart healing, my friends; the stuff of transformations, revelations and head knowledge finally becoming heart knowledge – some of it I’m realizing for the very first time!

I’ve been working through Heart Made Whole, as part of the book’s launch team, as well as, praying Jim and Pat Bank’s Healing and Trauma Prayer each day. To say that I’ve reached new depths of freedom and healing would be an understatement. Words cannot adequately describe all The Holy Spirit is doing in my heart, nor the battle that I have no doubt it going on for me in the heavenly realms! There is some serious spiritual warfare happening in my life right now…

I am so grateful that God has taught me to fight right – in prayer – trusting him to do the rest. I’m so grateful that he’s taught me to simply wait on him for timing and the next step. I’m so grateful he’s taught me that there’s nothing I can say that he can’t handle and nothing I can do that will cause me to walk off the path he has chosen for me.

I finally understand that my faith has zero to do with me and everything to do with God;what he’s already done through the sacrifice of Jesus and what he’s actively doing in the intricate details of my daily life right now. I’m just privy to sit back and watch it all unfold, taking part in his master plan from time to time.

I’m even more so grateful for the people he’s placed in my life to help keep me on the narrow path. Like bumper pads on the bowling lane, he’s put people in specific areas of influence over me to bounce off of, ultimately moving me further down the path without falling off it. He’s made me sensitive to seeing how he is using others to speak direction, conviction, encouragement and revelation at just the right time.


Just today, I felt compelled to go to the mountain. Now from where I live, it’s not a far journey; a 2 minute drive to be exact. But for this water loving, pretty view seeing lady, craving the forested mountains seems rather “off”. I went with it though, trusting God had a plan and a reason.

As I parked, I felt compelled to ask for prayer from some friends and in typical kailey fashion, proceeded to puked out a vulnerable plea. I walked into the forest and my first thought was bears, then cougars, then every other scary animal I would feel paralyzed at the site of. Fear overtook me and I decided to simply walk a few feet in and then find a spot to rest [some place I wasn’t too far from reality and could easily run from if something tried to attack me]…. city girl living in the country, I know!

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As I sat down, a text came in from a girlfriend who so aptly heard from God and obediently sent me just what I needed to read. The link sent me to the wilderness. And just like that, I recognized what was happening- the season I was entering in to. I had felt it- the shift in my mind and heart- in the last few days, but I wasn’t able to put words to it until now.

I sat there for the next 45 minutes reading and preparing myself for this next season in the wildness. I can confidently say this isn’t my first time, but I have a sneaking suspicious that it won’t be like any other wilderness I’ve experienced before in my faith walk.

But rather than fighting it, I am embracing it and marking my stance in the sand. I’m placing my feet on solid ground and refusing to run for comfort. I’m pushing in and trusting that what waits for me on the other side, is worth every moment of hardship and suffering. God chose me first and I’m choosing him back.


No scheme of man, no power of hell can separate me from his love!


When you feel like a social outcast and your passions lead you to hard places

I’ve always been a passionate person – on fire for the things that God has wired me to love, excel in and/or fight for. It started young for things like art and design, hospitality and organization, business and personal growth.

But as I’ve grown older and grown closer to him, those things have evolved and come to resemble things that matter to him; specifically things that break his heart.

I used to pray that he would unveil my eyes and soften my heart to see the world through his lens; that my heart would beat for things that move his.

Little did I know it would lead me here – to places of deep pain, hurt and many times loneliness, feeling like a social outcast. Like the woman who walks in the room and everyone else walks out.

I used to enter a room and people would light up. They’d flock to me. I used to be the life of the party!  Now I feel more like the party killer; like when I open my mouth, the things that come out make everyone (including me sometimes) squirm and get uncomfortable.

Nothing about me or my heart feels “normal” or “socially acceptable.”; things we’re taught to socially filter from conversations.

I struggle to know what to say anymore, how much and to whom, constantly filtering the thoughts that overwhelm my heart.

Because there are people who deserves the whole story and others the cole’s notes version. There are people who are mature enough to handle it and others who will buckle under scrutiny. There are places and times that warrant conversation and others that simply can’t lend the empathy or understanding. 

I want to be genuine – not hiding or denying Him who’s stolen my heart – but there’s a difference between vulnerability and authenticity and I’m still learning to navigate that….

The hard way, I might add, sometimes feeling like I’m pushing more people away than I’m drawing in. But I’m bound to mess up in these muddy waters.


I’ll fall down 9 times and get up 10. But with Gods grace and mercy, he will continue to lead me in wisdom and discernment. I can count on him and trust he’ll give me what I need.

God knows my heart and he knows the plans that he has for me. He promises to finish the work he’s started in me, on all accounts, including my tendency to go deep too fast with too many people and then get frustrated when they can’t handle it… or me!

In the meantime, I’m thankful for the people he’s put in my life who consistently walk in when everyone walks out.

They lean in hard, when everyone else has leaned out long ago. They check in when everyone else has frantically checked out. They accept me when everyone else is judging me. They trust my heart when everyone else has assumed it. They love me when no one else knows how.

They sit with me in the dark, hard and ugly places, when everyone else would rather pretend its sunny.

They say if you have even one of these people, you should count yourself blessed. I have six and one who will not just sit beside me in the mess, but roll around in the mud and get messy too. 

Thank you Lord, for knowing what I needed long before I ever would; for giving me safe places and loving hearts to be your arms of embrace and unconditional love. Thank you for answering my prayers so abundantly and giving me friends- family– that I could never have found on my own.

And thank you for making us all brave enough to walk the narrow path together.








Was Jesus just a Good Man like Ghandi

Totally not my normal style, please forgive the poor quality of this video.
I’m trusting this message was put on my heart for a reason and I pray it reaches the person who needs to hear it. Perhaps that’s you….

Was Jesus just a Good Man like Ghandi?

Thank you for your grace, friend. 

An Ever Persistent Pursuit

It was early, much earlier than I normally think to walk but the call to get outside was almost audible.

Just before I headed out I grabbed my bible, unsure why or where I’d get a chance to read. Little did I know He had a plan…


As I walked the old familiar path it was as if my eyes were seeing it for the very first time. My heart was so full of gratitude and joy, I could hardly contain it.

I can’t describe the feeling other than love- those butterfly beginnings of falling in love.

Then I opened my bible to this passage:


I literally had to laugh out loud. Really God?! That’s what you’re doing?

You see six years ago, my faith looked vastly different and I had yet to encounter, let alone grasp the concept of who Jesus is and how much he loved me.

I was still striving desperately to be a good person, do great things and make something of myself. I was still trying to earn love and acceptance… from not only God, but my friends, family – even myself.

But in this place, I found home and along the inlet trail, Jesus met me, revealed himself and began a transformational work in my heart. 

In the busyness of motherhood, I’d become angry, allowing the challenges of this season to steal my joy. I’d lost perspective, if only temporarily. I was frustrated that my encounters with God felt “lacking” and his nearness distant in the last few weeks.

But we both know that’s not the truth. It was me. It’s always me… who pulls away and chooses to be distant.

But in His ever persistent pursuing, he was bringing me back to the place where he first woo’d me like a man courting his bride- to the place I first met Jesus and so began my love affair.

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Because up until then, I had only known religion. But it was here in this place, along these vary trails, that He showed me it wasn’t about allegiance but more like falling in love.

Yes that was what I was feeling; I was completely and totally overcome by His Love for me.


He Touched and She was Healed

He touched her hand and the fever left her; and she she got up and began to wait on him. – Matthew 8:15

Jesus has authority over all evil that is a result of this fallen world. He speaks a word, he gives a touch and people are healed; made new and restored to wholeness. He does this to glorify God.

At the time of this story, the Bible tells us that Jesus healed this woman “to fulfill what what spoken through the prophets: He took up our infirmities and bore our diseases.” vs. 17

In todays world, Jesus blesses to gift us with a taste of what the whole world will one day experience in God’s kingdom. It’s a glimpse.

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When God chooses to heal us or bless us it is an unnecessary and willful act of love; a gift. Yes he loves us and yes he wants to see us happy, but first and foremost it is to glorify God and give testimony to his goodness and power.

It’s always been about God first and never about us. We are here to make manifest him!

His acts of love are not mandatory. They are a free gift lavished upon us in mercy and kindness. Our response then should be one of gratitude and debt.

How else would you respond to someone who gave you a gift of incredible value and selfless love?

Say your life for example. You were standing before a judge who had pronounced the death sentence for you and some man stood up and said he’d take your place. An exchange. His life for yours. The judge agrees and you go free….

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Too often, our response to God’s blessings is one of entitlement or expectation, like he owes us something for our “allegiance.”

Yes, we should expect God to answer our prayers, but it won’t always be in our time or our ways. While God loves us and desires for us to know and experience joy in this life, he ultimately wants to be the source of that joy- just him and his relationship – that isn’t dependent on circumstance.

His delight in us sure isn’t based on our performance (ha!) so why then, so often, is our devotion weighed on a scale of his ability to “bless us” and answer our prayers the way we’d have it?

Jesus is far more concerned with our hearts condition than with our comfort or circumstance. He wants to see us grow up and mature spiritually, moving beyond asking what God can do for us, to a place of asking what we can do for him.


Peter’s Mother-in-law, the women healed in Matthew 8, is a perfect example of how we should respond to Jesus, especially in times when we receive his touch; his blessings, his gifts.

To love and devote our lives in service.

Immediately, not after she did the things she needed to or after she got bored, immediately she got up and waited on him. She served Jesus.

She responded to his act with acts of her own that blessed him. She received his love and lavished it upon others in return.

These are the things he calls us to. This is the heart of God; Love and Service, all as an outpouring of gratitude in response for all thats been done for us… already.




So let me ask you. How have you responded to God in the past? How will you respond to him today? Right now? And with the vary gift of your life?


Pray with me:

Lord, Thank you for your love that you so graciously lavish upon me. Thank you for your desire to know me and be known by me.

Help me to respond to your love in a way that is worthy and honouring to you- to receive your blessings and love and respond with my life as an outpouring in thanks for all your are to me and all you’ve done for me. But not just for the now or the blessings of my current circumstance, but for what has already been done, accomplished and made available to me, through Jesus’ ultimately loving and selfless sacrifice on the cross.

Ignite in me a passionate desire to seek you, love you and serve you, devoting my life to the things of your heart. Fan in me your flame and may many come to know and experience your love for themselves, through me.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

When you’re Struggling to Care about What’s Happening in Iraq

The honest truth is, I felt numb to what their now calling a “Christian Genocide.”

I cannot even comprehend such suffering in my wrapped up pretty, over privileged North American Life. But while my mind can’t fathom the horror, my heart has less than stirred for my Christian Brothers and Sisters in Crisis. Why? I won’t go on a “cushioned life” tangent, but simply put, because I feel so far removed.


I’ve felt shame these past weeks; disgust with myself and the fact that my heart wasn’t breaking nor did I seem to really care. And so I kept quiet. Bound by the lies that I’m a joke of a Christian. That I don’t deserve to even call myself one. I’m a fraud. A sham.

…The perfect stomping grounds for the one who comes to lie, cheat, steal and destroy.

“Don’t even pretend you care by chiming in or share anything on social media! Don’t talk about it with others. That’s being a hypocrite!”

And so I didn’t. I’ve stayed quiet, for weeks; mute both inwardly and otwardly, afraid to even admit the truth to my Father.

I’ve watched from the sidelines as friends and mentors have shared updates, prayers and pleas for those suffering the unthinkable.

And then last night, God did what he always seems to resort to when this stubborn legalist can’t seem to remember what grace is.

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I stumbled upon a video. The man shook and cried,

“There are people dying and no one seems to care! There is no help. There is no aid. How can we simply stand back and watch a genocide occur?! Please do something. Anything that you can. Pray!”

He pleaded with the camera and within seconds I felt the two-by-four of power overcome me. The Holy Spirit moved me to pray, words I hadn’t dared to utter until now.

“Lord, I don’t care. I want to but I don’t! I feel so awful even admitting that to you, but worse, pretending that you don’t already know! If anything is going to change, it needs to be you. Oh please Lord, change my heart. Give me the capacity to love like you do and move in me, so that the things that break yours pierce mine.”

I sat back, felt nothing and waited.

Because that’s the thing with our Father. When we come to him in sincerety, when we’re honest and confess, he is faithful to forgive us and slap the guilt right gone from us. And when we pray, in the vine for his will, does he surely not listen and answer?! Of course.

… in his time and his ways.  So I simply waited, trusting that he would do in me, what only he could do.


This morning I woke to this article and knew it was my answered prayer:  5 Things we can do right now, that will ACTUALLY help our brothers and sisters.

As I read, my heart beat fast and I could hardly finish before starting to pray… before wanting to share the article… before jumping to speak up using the gift of words he’s given me.

My heart change!

Yes he is capable of far more than we can ever ask or imagine. What is impossible with man is possible with God… even when it comes to renovations of the heart!


So while I cringe writing this, afraid of what you might think of me – That you might look down on me and think I’m less of a person; Less of a Christian- deep down, I wonder …. if sharing my truth is freeing to even one person, bound by the same guilt that I’ve felt.

That somewhere, you’re looking for a nudge – the permission to confess your numbness and move beyond silence to taking a stand.

This is it. You’re not a bad Christian. You are not unworthy to speak or to pray. Go to your Father who loves you. Seek and you will find!


Praying with you, my friend, for hearts that desire to cry out for our Christian Brothers and Sisters.

Down the Narrow Path

Jesus tells us that the path to him is narrow and the gate, small… only a few will find it. [Matt. 7:14]


And yet on so many days, I fight the hard stuff and want desperately for my life to be comfortable and easy.

…For things to go back to the way they “used to be.”
…For life to magically jump back to a time with less responsibilities and more “freedom.” [Ha! Now that’s a joke, because in the years I’m dreaming of, I was bound by lies of shame, guilt, self hatred and an incessant pursuit of perfectionism that left me feeling unworthy and never good enough]

When I’m fighting the urge to run from my current circumstances, I find myself grasping for things of comfort:

….old TV shows I watched as a child or in an “easier” season of life.  Comfort
….The need to constantly be out and about being entertained or with people.  Distraction
….Feel good books or blogs that make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, like everything is going to be ok.  Peace

All counterfeit. All Worldly. 

And then I slowly start to notice the effects; my prayers become brief and my devotional time routine, like I’m frantic to “get them done” so I can hurry on to something else that’ll make me feel good. “Happy and light” for a moment.

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I run, to all the wrong places and things, seeking the vary things only HE can give me:

  • The strength and courage to keep going, even when I can’t see the light at the end of the season
  • Comfort that allows me to rest in him, right where I am
  • Peace that surpasses all understanding, reason and circumstance
  • Joy, to dance in the midst of the rain, instead of waiting for it to pass
  • Trust, that He knows me, loves me and has a plan for me
  • Surrender, to his will, his plans and his ways

My husband and I knew from the start of 2014 that this year was going to be one of change. Don’t ask us why, but somehow we knew. It seems that for every few years of “coasting,” he throws us a curve ball year of “change.” Or as I like to put it when I’m through the chaos and lessons… Seasons of Growth.


It’s in these years or seasons that I’ve done the most growing spirtually, personally and professionally. Because what the heart knows, the heart lives and out of the heart the mouth speaks.

And when love, true love, enters your heart, it can’t help but overflow into every area of your life.


In these hard seasons, I know that’s what He’s teaching me. He’s increasing my capacity to love deeper and to know him more.

But renovations of any kind are never easy, especially renovations of the heart! They might seem fun and exciting in the dreaming stage, but once your knees deep in the mess and chaos, it’s hard to see the end goal or even remember why you wanted to start this crazy project in the first place.

It’s in those moments, where I sit right now, that I’m reaching out and asking him to grab ahold of me. To pull me up on to the ledge of one covered piece of furniture, so I can see from his perspective how things will surely come together.

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Time, patience, hard work, persistence and faith in the process.

I hear him whisper…

The road is narrow and the gate small. But the rewards are perfect and worth it, dear child. Just wait.


She wore no Shame

As she frolicked through the woods with her two older siblings, fighting to keep up, she wore no shame.

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As she hiked up the trail in her big bowed headband and her pink tutu, she wore no shame.

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As she tried new adventures, fell and got back up again, she wore no shame.


As she wore her crown of femininity, she knew she was special, loved and perfectly lovely to her daddy.


As the played in the water, facing fears and getting tossed back by the waves, she wore no shame.

As she wiggled her little hiney, prancing in her swimsuit, she wore no shame.


As she cried for her daddy to come and comfort her in her sorrow, she wore no shame.

“Anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child, will never enter into it.” Mark 10:16

As I sat and watched her, I was mesmerized by intriqgue. When is it that we loose all sense of wonder…. in ourselves. In life. In everyone around us.

When is it that we start apologizing for who we are and hiding ourselves from the world?…. our bodies, our mistakes, our weaknesses, our dreams, our fears, our insecurities, our failures.

When is that we allow the lie of shame to cloak us from our innocence and steal the whimsy from our inner child. Are we not, even as adults, made in his image, forever a child in the eyes of our father and eternally in need of a saviour?

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With every new gift of whimsy my eyes bore witness to, I called out to my Father.

“Lord, Help me to be like this here wee one. Confident and free to simply be. Whole, innocent and joyful, full of whimsy and excitement. Let me run to you with reckless abondon, even in my pride and childish weakness. Let me trust you with my life, with my purpose and my heart. Amen”