peace
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Introspection — what better way to start a week. Question: Do you easily call out the deception in your abuser(s) or do you deny what you see? One of the easiest ways to stay outside of healing and freedom is to deny what you see. As children, if you came through childhood sexual crimes, you…
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People like to talk about trauma like it’s only damage. Something to fix. Something to soften and soothe until it disappears. That’s incomplete. I wasn’t just hurt. I was trained. Not in a way I would have chosen. Not in a way I would ever recreate for my children. But training doesn’t stop being training…
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Prudence doesn’t get clicks. Prudence is slow. Quiet. Unimpressive. It looks like saying no when everyone else says yes. It looks like leaving early, staying faithful, keeping your mouth shut, doing the long, boring work of healing when nobody is clapping for you. Nobody goes viral for self-control.Nobody gets applause for breaking a generational pattern.Nobody…
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The closer I draw near to Jesus, the more embarrassed I am by the things I once called freedom. I spent years mistaking chaos for creativity. I thought intensity meant depth. I thought wreckage was proof I was alive. That’s what childhood teaches you when love is unstable and safety is conditional. You learn to…
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There’s a strange dignity in dropping the polished version of yourself at the door and walking into God’s presence with the mud still on your boots. The old writers understood this. The heart doesn’t grow when it hides. It grows when it’s exposed to light, air, and the risk of being seen. We keep trying…
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It’s the harmony between a Father and His child. It’s not earned, it’s given. It’s not managed, it’s received. Jesus didn’t die to make you better at behaving. He died to bring you back…to tear down the wall that sin built between heaven and home. You can live spotless on the outside and still be…
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For so long, my very own body felt like a ruined place. Desecrated. Not a temple but a tomb. I lived inside skin that felt haunted — a house where sickness pooled in the corners, where blackness spread across every wall. I did not trust it, did not belong to it, did not believe it…
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Deception is the oldest story in the book. It begins in a garden with a lie, and for many of us, it begins in childhood. That precious window of innocence—where we were meant to feel safe, cherished, and unshakably loved—is often where evil strikes first. The enemy is subtle. He slithers in with confusion, betrayal,…
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There’s a lot of talk about forgiveness, and while I believe wholeheartedly in forgiveness, I’m hard-pressed to understand the ability to reconnect to the people that violated my innocence, my trust, and gave me no protection. The way I see it is that to extend my hand to my mother, my father, my brother, or…
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There is a quiet after the storm that does not feel like a gift. For those who’ve fought to survive abuse, peace isn’t the gentle balm the world promised. It is an ache, an absence, a hollow cave that echoes with the voice of your former fear. You see, a man or woman forged in…