God doesn’t think like us. Have you ever felt rejected? Unseen? Looked over? Chosen second? Accepted, but never truly wanted? Most people know the story of Jacob loving Rachel. Far fewer stop and consider Leah. Leah was the woman nobody fought for. The woman tolerated, but not treasured. Scripture says Jacob loved Rachel, but Leah was hated. Not necessarily meaning violent hatred, but unwanted. Unfavored. Less loved. You can feel the ache of that all throughout her story. Im

We are living in a time where answers are instant. Need advice? Search it. Need comfort? Scroll for it. Need wisdom? Ask AI. Need direction? Watch another sermon. Information is everywhere. But information and intimacy are not the same thing. One of the quiet dangers of this generation is not always rebellion. It is substitution. Sometimes we do not walk away from God. We just slowly replace dependence on Him with dependence on something easier. The Holy Spirit is the

My older writing makes me smile. She was full of passion and fire. Unapologetic. You can feel it in her words. Swinging hard. Sounding alarms. She was always in warfare. And honestly… I love her for that. She taught me resilience. She prayed hard. Fasted hard. Stood hard. Everything felt urgent. Everything was spiritual warfare. But I smile now because I see growth. No longer sleeping with my boots on. Peace time looks different than war. Battles come but the

Dear 90’s Kim, You yelled too much. You smoked too much. You cussed too much. You said you wanted one thing and did another. You felt rejection deeper than you knew how to name. So you people-pleased. You overgave. You lost yourself trying to hold onto everything else. You were messy. You were inconsistent. You were hurting. But you were also surviving. You survived even when it felt like the darkness would swallow you whole. You survived self-hate that clawed

The longer I walk with God, the more I realize I don’t need a measuring stick for other people. I need one for myself. Because the places where I struggle to give grace often reveal the places where I still need grace. Jesus said to remove the beam from our own eye first. Not because He wanted us blind. But because He wanted us humble. Because humble people see differently. They see people the way God sees them. Not as projects, problems, or labels. But as sons and daughters

There is something about depth that comes from low places. There is something about digging that changes a person. People who have never had to go down into trenches often do not understand what it feels like to be there. Not because they are bad people. Sometimes they simply have never been low enough to recognize the terrain. There are places in life that humble you. Places where survival is not theory anymore. Places where strength runs out. Places where you stop prete

Yesterday I heard something that stopped me. You do not give yourself grace. I did not argue with it. I did not brush it off. I just let it sit in the back of my mind. And I kept thinking about it. Because I know grace. I write about grace. I give grace pretty freely. But later, when I checked myself, I realized something uncomfortable: It was true. Guilt has a way of speaking. Regret does too. For things I did not know. Things I should have done. Things I wish I handled diff

This is not the end of the story. I survived, but survival was never the destination. Victory is not pretending life never hurt. It is learning how to rise when it did. It is not about never falling down. It is learning how to wipe your feet and keep walking. Learning. Growing. Becoming mature. Returning again and again to who God created me to be before life marked me. Still Rising is not denial of struggle. Some seasons hurt deeply. Some pits feel impossible to climb out of

There is something sacred about mornings. Before the noise. Before the pressure. Before the world starts asking for everything I don’t feel ready to give. Mornings at the Cross are not rushed. They are not polished. They are not about having perfect words or perfect faith. They are about coming back. Coming back to the place where everything begins again. Where mercy meets me before expectation does. There I remember I am not held together by strength, but by grace. Some m

I’ve been reading through Leviticus, and honestly, for years I think I misunderstood it. Like many people, I used to read it and see rituals, laws, sacrifices, offerings, blood, cleansing, and endless instructions that felt distant from life today. It almost felt overwhelming. Easy to dismiss. Easy to say, “We don’t do that anymore.” But the more I read it, the more I realized something deeper was underneath all of it. Covenant. Not empty religion. Not performance. Not perfec

When Tuesday came around, I would not get out of bed. I was over an hour late. Not because I forgot. I just did not care. I was not hopeful. I was not expecting anything. I was not thinking this appointment would change my life. I was empty. But that Tuesday became a turning point because I realized something: Not every battle is the same. For years I had prayed and prayed for freedom. I went to altars wanting to be free. But I did not just need another prayer. I needed a hea

Some stone altars are built around dramatic moments. Others are built around one reluctant yes. Mine started on a Sunday I did not want to go. By then, I had been drowning for a long time. Depression had settled in. Anxiety had tightened its grip. Suicidal thoughts had become louder than hope. I was exhausted. Not just tired. Soul tired. The kind of tired where getting out of bed feels impossible. The kind where showers feel overwhelming. The kind where tomorrow feels heavier

MY STORY Before I fully understood faith, I saw it lived out before me. My earliest understanding of God didn’t come through a sermon, a book, or even a church service I fully understood at the time. It came through my grandparents. And I didn’t realize then that what I was witnessing wasn’t just devotion. It was a foundation being quietly laid in my life. I can still remember being in their presence and sensing something different about how they lived. Prayer wasn’t introduc

Good morning, The sole purpose of starting this page was to share a testimony I did not have yet. A testimony I KNEW God was bringing. I have been waiting to write this post since July. Sometimes life leaves a mark. Sometimes we face deep battles that change us forever. My faith was recently tested during one of those moments when my 26 year old daughter told me she had thyroid cancer. No mother wants to hear the words, “Your baby has cancer.” It is a deep and grievous pain.

MY STORY This is not the end of the story. I survived, but survival was never the destination. Victory is not pretending life never hurt. It is learning how to rise when it did. It is not about never falling down. It is learning how to wipe your feet and keep walking. It is not getting everything right. It is learning. Growing. Becoming mature. Returning again and again to who God created me to be before life marked me. Still Rising is not denial of struggle. Some seasons hur

MY STORY There are moments in life where God does not just comfort you. He redefines you. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But through a quiet, undeniable shift where the way you see yourself, God, and life itself begins to change. This was one of those seasons for me. About three years ago, something shifted deeply in my relationship with God. It was not the beginning of my faith. But it was the breaking of limitations I did not even realize I was still living under. For a long

MY STORY There are seasons in life that do not just test your faith. They remove every other thing you thought you could stand on. This was one of those seasons. When my daughter was diagnosed with cancer, something in me shifted immediately. Not into strength. Not into clarity. Into dependence. Because in that moment, nothing in me felt capable of carrying what was happening. All the things I had learned to rely on my ability to function, manage, push through, and hold ever

MY STORY Everything began to shift when my relationship with God stopped being occasional and started becoming daily. Not because I suddenly became disciplined in a religious sense, but because I began to realize I could not keep living the same way internally and expect anything in my life to change. Something in me needed more than survival. It needed presence. I had experienced moments with God before, but not like this. Not daily. Not from desperation. Not from dependency

MY STORY Long before I understood the secret place, I was drawn to prayer. I always loved prayer. I attended prayer meetings. I prayed at home. I wanted to be someone who knew how to pray with depth, authority, and relationship with God. But for a long time, I thought prayer was mostly something you attended or something you did. I didn’t yet understand that prayer was also abiding. Intercession. Burden. Persistence. Prevailing. Fire. Continual communion with God. I had seen

MY STORY After that encounter, I knew I needed church. But more than that, I needed to be taught. I needed discipleship. I needed someone to help me understand how to actually walk with the God who had just met me so powerfully. I had known what it was to attend church. I had known what it was to believe. I had known what it was to have moments with God. But I had not truly known what it meant to be discipled. One night, I was home watching a minister on TV. That was not some