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

You’ve probably seen it stitched on throw pillows or captioned under sunset beach pics: “ Live life to the fullest. ” Cool. But what on earth does that even mean? Is it skydiving at 80? Quitting your job to travel the world? Drinking overpriced smoothies that taste like wet spinach and regret? I used to think living life to the fullest meant checking things off a bucket list like a productivity freak with a death wish. Hike Machu Picchu? Done. Eat gelato in Rome? Done. Feel vaguely unfulfilled while staring at a breathtaking view because you’re still thinking about your Instagram angle? Also done. But something about all that “living” felt... hollow. Not to be dramatic (okay maybe just a little), but if you’ve ever flopped on your bed after a “dream trip” and thought, “That’s it?” you know what I mean. This blog post is not your average fluffy “just follow your heart” pep talk. I’m writing this because I think the whole living-life-to-the-fullest thing has been hijacked by hustle...

There’s this girl I follow online who wakes up at 5am, fasts twice a week, never misses a morning quiet time, and journals her prayers in three different colors of gel pen. She’s always saying things like, “God gave me a word this morning during my 2-hour devotion” and honestly? I don’t know whether to clap or cry. Because on most days, I’m just trying not to cuss at my WiFi for cutting out again. Or zone out mid-prayer. Or scroll Instagram while pretending it’s “rest.” And here’s the weird truth I’m kinda scared to admit. What if I’ll never be that strong Christian? What if my spiritual life always feels a little wobbly? A little inconsistent? A little… messy? This one might flip your definition of “strong” upside down. You might leave feeling closer to Jesus than you thought. There was a season where I believed strength in faith looked like performance. Consistency. Memorizing Leviticus just for fun. Crying every time Hillsong came on. And honestly, I tried. I tried to read the...

The Christian question I never wanted to ask out loud North Koreans aren’t cartoons. They aren’t headlines, or dark joke material, or characters in a dystopian movie we’ll never be part of. They’re people. And recently, I sat down and read more than I probably should have. First-hand escapee accounts. Starvation. Indoctrination. Families torn. Generations raised to fear, not dream. It wrecked me. And not in a neat, “wow I’m so grateful for what I have” kind of way. More like, I wanted to slam my laptop shut and shout at heaven. Why does God allow suffering? Why does He let this happen? And if you're reading this, you’ve probably asked it too. Maybe not about North Korea. Maybe about cancer. About that car crash. About something that still haunts you every night, while the rest of the world scrolls past and forgets. I used to feel so guilty even wondering about this. Like it made me less Christian. Less faithful. Less trusting. But I think that’s a lie. I think the real question i...

You ever had one of those moments where everyone in the room says yes, and you feel God pulling you into a quiet, uncomfortable no? I have. Multiple times. And let me tell you, nothing makes you sweat through your socks faster than being the lone person who won’t budge "for the sake of unity." Especially when that unity involves sweeping values under the rug like a bunch of dirty socks at a sleepover. But here’s the crazy part… holding your ground (biblically) might be the very thing that makes you a good leader. Even when no one claps. Even when they roll their eyes or worse, pat you on the head like you’re some moral toddler with too many convictions and not enough real-world experience. The surprising connection between Daniel in Babylon and you in your Monday morning meetings… keep reading. When compromise looks cooler than Christ Let’s be real : compromising makes life smoother. It oils the machine. It keeps the budget meetings on time and the group chats calm and em...

The other day I caught myself rolling my eyes so hard they nearly flew out of my skull. Why? Because a Christian influencer I follow just casually posted a story of her in Italy, sipping espresso outside a picturesque chapel, captioned with something like, “just grateful Jesus led me here.” Meanwhile, I was trying to hear God’s voice over the sound of my neighbour drilling through concrete at 8am. And yes, I was wearing the same shirt three days in a row. So. There it was: the creeping jealousy. Not holy envy. Not admiration. Plain, green-eyed, low-key-hate-following jealousy. And it wasn’t just about the lifestyle or the opportunities. It was about her joy. Her clarity. Her call. Her collagen. It made me wonder: What happens when you're a Christian... and you're jealous of other Christians? It sounds petty. It feels embarrassing. But it’s a thing. A real, ugly, soul-squirmy thing. Jealousy? In this economy? You’d think being part of the family of God would feel like a...

What mixed signals, late-night texts, and God have in common. I’ve been friend-zoned by a Christian guy. And, plot twist: I’ve also been the one who got the unexpected “ Hey, I like you actually ” message from a close male friend. At this point, I feel like I’ve earned enough emotional air miles to write this blog post with free snacks included. So if you’ve ever found yourself in a Christian-flavoured situationship, you’re not alone. I’ve been there. More than once. There was a time (actually, multiple times) when I caught feelings for a guy in church who, at first glance, seemed like he might feel the same. I mean, daily texts, long conversations, spiritual banter, mutual Spotify sharing... the whole thing screamed “ maybe he likes me? ” But the minute I dared to hope, he’d casually remind me I was just a friend. A sister in Christ . The one he felt comfortable texting about everything and nothing but never actually pursuing. You know, the “I appreciate you so much” texts withou...