It’s now 9:00 a.m., and the house is still quiet. I sit here with Your Word in my lap, reflecting on earlier…

When I woke in those quiet, early hours, I felt Your presence. I heard Your voice. While I may not fully understand, I begin to grasp why You so often chose to slip away and be alone with the Father.

Jesus, it feels as though the closer I draw to You, the harder the enemy attacks.
Doubts creep in—I worry that I share too much in my writing, that people don’t want to hear it, or that they quietly label me a “holy roller.” I wonder if I’m the only one who feels this heavy silence, Lord. Help me, as I know You always do. Open the hearts and minds of those who might misunderstand.

Persecution feels like a strong word, especially here, but the judgment is real. It is in the silence. It is in the growing distance. It is in the subtle offense taken simply because of who I am in You. Lord, anchor me in the truth that I am not crazy for feeling and experiencing these spiritual realities so deeply.

The more I draw close to You in solitude, the less I desire the noise around me. Grant me Your strength and courage. Help me to boldly be who You created me to be, no matter where my feet walk on this side of heaven.

Come soon, Jesus. Please, come soon.

Thanks for listening, Lord.