Today the Spirit of Truth showed me something so simple, yet so profound. I’ve read Isaiah 61 many times. I’ve prayed it. I’ve quoted it. I’ve tried to put on the garment of praise. Yet there were seasons when joy seemed just out of reach. Today, the Holy Spirit put one word on it. Mourning. Jesus said the Spirit of Truth would guide us into all truth. Today, He did exactly that. In my season of heaviness, I wasn’t lacking praise. I was carrying mourning. Isaiah 61 suddenly c

The other day I was praying in a group, and something unusual happened. I felt insecure. That caught my attention because prayer has never really been an area where I struggled. I’ve had people tell me they were intimidated to pray with me because I pray with authority. But this time was different. I was grieving. I was hurting. I felt fragile. And afterward, I found myself comparing. Comparing my weakness to someone else’s strength. Comparing my suffering to someone else’s v

There was something about the story of Obed Edom that settled deep in my spirit. After Uzzah reached out and touched the Ark, fear filled the moment. David was afraid to bring the Ark into the City of David, so it was taken to the house of Obed Edom. For three months, the presence of God rested there. Scripture simply says the Lord blessed Obed Edom, his household, and everything he had because of the Ark of God. When I kept reading, I noticed something else. Years later, his

I poured out. Silence came back. I reached out. Silence came back. I trusted. Silence came back. I shared my heart. Silence came back. I brought what was precious. Silence came back. I showed up hoping to be seen. Silence came back. The hardest part about silence is not always the silence itself. It is what starts speaking inside of it. Suddenly old wounds get louder. I shared too much. I cared more than they did. I should stop reaching. Stop building. Stop hoping. Keep

Some days grief sits with you all day. You wake up with it. You carry it through the afternoon. You wake up in the middle of the night with it. You think about people you miss. You think about what used to be. You think about opportunities that are gone. You think about family, friendships, and seasons that have changed. Can I be honest? Grief was speaking too loud to me when I thought too much: -About my Mom. -My Dad sitting in a nursing home. -Missed opportunities w

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

EXODUS 21 I was reading through Exodus 21 and realized something that stopped me. What God called offenses looked very different than what we often call offenses today. In Exodus, offenses were things like violence, theft, injury, neglect, damage, dishonor, and harm done to another person. They were visible. Measurable. Actions that affected families, people, and communities. God addressed them seriously because sin always leaves damage behind it. But today, when many people