Seen and Understood: For the Quiet Ones With Loud Inner Worlds

I once almost moved to Bali because I had a really good cup of coffee and the beach smelt like freedom. I stood there, arms stretched, hair tangled, heart pounding like a Hillsong bridge, and thought this is it . This is my destiny. I was ready to book a one-way ticket and start a coconut business called "Thy Will Be Done (on Earth as it is in Bali)." Fortunately, I didn't. Because five days later, I got a mild sunburn, a mosquito bit my eyelid, and I wanted to go home to my bed, my aircon, and my overpriced Singapore bubble tea. So… should I follow my emotions? Or not? Spoiler: sometimes they lead you to worship God in a field with tear-stained cheeks. Other times? They lead you to text your ex at 2:17am while eating cereal with your fingers. Welcome to the Christian life, where feelings are real, but not always right. And that, my friend, is where the plot thickens. What Are Emotions, Really? Emotions are not bad. They’re just not boss . They’re like children in...

I was folding laundry one night when the thought hit me like a wet sock to the face: “This is it? This is my holy assignment?” I wasn’t at a revival. I wasn’t leading a prayer ministry. I wasn’t building an orphanage, translating Greek, or planting churches across six continents. Nope. I was matching socks. (Actually, I was losing socks, which is a far less victorious story.) And for a second, it made me panic. Because everywhere I look, people seem to be doing something . Writing books. Starting ministries. Becoming "Kingdom entrepreneurs" (still figuring out what that means). Launching podcasts with cover photos that look like Netflix dramas. Meanwhile, I’m just here... surviving. Doing my job. Keeping the house semi-clean. Loving people badly-but-honestly. And sometimes, I think: “What if my calling isn’t very impressive?” When Obedience Looks Less Like Fireworks and More Like… Tuesdays We don’t say it out loud, but there’s this lowkey Christian panic going on:...

At 2am, when the rest of the world is asleep, that’s when it hits. You prayed. You fasted. You believed. You repented of that one sin for the 47th time. You even deleted Instagram because you were that serious about hearing from God. And yet, crickets. The door didn’t open. The healing didn’t come. The promise didn’t arrive on time. And you’re stuck there in the quiet, not angry, not even bitter, just... a little heartbroken. Of course, you’d never say that out loud. Especially not in Bible study. Because what if someone thinks you’re backsliding? What if they quote Romans 8:28 at you like a spiritual band-aid while your soul is quietly bleeding out? This is the silent ache that many believers carry, the one we tuck beneath our Sunday smiles and volunteer shifts. Disappointment in God. Not because He did something wrong , but because we feel like He didn’t do what we thought He would. It’s awkward to admit, isn’t it? That maybe, just maybe, we expected something different from the God...

You ever get that weird internal spiral where you’re like, “God, if that was You, blink twice”? And then you wait for a thunderclap, a dove to descend, or your Spotify shuffle to prophetically land on Oceans ? Same. I’ve gone entire weeks,  months ,  in a borderline mental breakdown loop trying to decode whether a random intrusive thought about moving to Iceland was God, the devil, or just my dehydrated brain on 3 hours of sleep and 2 iced coffees. At some point, I even tried casting lots with my laundry (don’t ask). Hearing God shouldn’t feel like hacking into the Pentagon. But let’s admit it: for many of us Christian overthinkers, it does . Why is hearing God so hard sometimes? Honestly? Because we’re scared to get it wrong. We don’t want to embarrass ourselves, mislead others, or make a stupid life choice and slap a “God told me” sticker on it. And beneath that fear, there’s this ache to be loved well by Him. If I can just hear His voice clearly, I’ll feel safe, righ...

  Have you ever watched The Little Mermaid and felt something stir deep in your chest; not just because of the music, but because of the ache behind it? Ariel isn’t just singing about seashells or shiny forks. She’s singing about freedom . “I wanna be where the people are…” She wants more than the comfort of her underwater palace. She wants a life where she can walk, dance, explore, and belong . A life beyond the one she was born into. And maybe you’ve felt that too. ✦ ✦ ✦ The Ache for Another Life (That You Can’t Quite Explain) There’s a strange tension in the Christian life: you know you’re called to contentment, and yet your soul aches for something more . Not more hustle. Not more success. Not even more money. But more life . More light. More room to breathe. More space to live as who God created you to be. I know this ache well. Some days I look at my life and think, “I should be grateful.” I have what I need. A roof, a job, a routine. And yet... my spirit fe...

I don’t love my job. There. I said it. It’s one of those things where the hours pass, but the soul doesn’t grow. I don’t dread it exactly, but I don’t wake up excited either. And maybe that’s been the hardest part, that quiet ache of going through motions when your spirit is meant for something more. But in the midst of all this, I’ve been learning to spot the joy. Not big, Instagrammable, mountain-moving moments. Just small, sacred ones. The ones God hides like little notes in your lunchbox. ✦ ✦ ✦ Weekday Evenings: My Tiny Altars of Joy There’s something about coming home after a long workday and reaching for a snack that just… heals something inside. For me, it’s Eureka popcorn -  the Spicy Cuttlefish flavour. Something about the crunch and the umami hits differently when the fluorescent lights of the office are behind me. Sometimes, it’s iced coffee  in a glass I didn’t have to share with anyone. Or melon milk from Korea (Binggrae) , sweet and artificial and unapolo...