I move with Him, and in Him—for His glory, not my own.
I am content with this calling. I live for it.
I didn’t choose this. I didn’t ask for it. Yet, somehow, I get to be this person. The one whose very life is a conduit for encounter. The one who God moves through. I live in awe of it, constantly. The revelations don’t stop—they are part of my daily life. They slow down when I drift, and when I come back, they return like a flood. Revelation after revelation. It’s not forced. It just flows.
It’s the same with my writing. When I write in the Spirit—when I write with God and for God—the words pour out of me. It’s as if the page itself worships. Everything becomes light, free, easy. The striving fades.
That’s one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned: Striving exhausts me. It scatters my mind and blurs my vision. But the moment I shift my focus back to Him, everything clears. Scripture says, “Seek first the Kingdom of God… and all these things will be added.” I am a living testament of that promise.
Amanda Cook sings in Before and After, “I’m a living miracle,” and for so long, I thought that meant the miracle of surviving my partial hysterectomy—the massive fibroids I carried, the 3.5kg of weight I didn’t even realize was burdening my body. But it’s more than that. It’s spiritual. I’m not Jesus, but I move with Him. I move in Him. And He moves in me.
I was chosen before I was born. I come from a prophetic line—a royal prophetic heritage. Like Anna, I worship with my life. Like Hannah, I poured out in silence what words could not say. Like Jeremiah, I’ve wept. Like Isaiah, I’ve seen. I am extremely creative, musical, and deeply receptive. I am royal because I was called, and my life is marked by encounter, not ego.
God drilled it into me early: “Not your glory. Mine.”
“You are my voice.”
“You are with Me in Me.”
That became my grounding. My North Star.
And I look at my life now… and I’m just in awe.
I’ve gone through the fire—refining fire. I’ve been pressed on every side, especially by my stepdad, who still tries to push me down with words. Fat-shaming. Dismissive comments. And I’m a grown woman—36 years old. But now, by the grace of Jesus, I can bat those words away like smoke. That’s not because I’ve toughened up. That’s the Lord.
I’ve seen the worst. I’ve seen the best. I’ve lived in the in-between. And in all of it, the Lord was there.
There was a season where I paused and questioned everything. I started asking bigger questions about life—not because someone ghosted me, but because I started waking up to the fact that something felt missing. Society gave me a script: go to school, get good marks, study, get a job, meet someone, get married, have kids, and that’s it.
And I thought: This can’t be it.
That life would kill me—not literally, but in the deepest part of who I am.
That was my turning point. I said to the Lord: “I will seek You until I find You.”
I needed Him to show me what else there was. Because I knew, deep down, I wasn’t built for a surface-level life. I needed depth. I needed Him.
For three years, I went through a wilderness of sorts—a time of training. I was refined. I learned to hear His voice clearly. I learned to discern the enemy’s voice, too. I can still hear, see, and sense in the Spirit. And now I understand why my warfare has always felt so intense.
It’s wild to say this, but I truly believe that I lost my physical womb through spiritual warfare. I couldn’t have changed that outcome. It had to happen. It became a massive mental reset for me. And now, I can say with confidence: God used it for my good.
I had to go through it. Not just for my own healing, but for what I would one day be able to speak into for others. That’s how I’ve always seen it: I want to show people who God is. And in this world, the only real way to do that is through lived experience.
You can’t speak from a place you’ve never walked. You can’t testify unless you’ve seen and survived and overcome.
So now, I get to say to others, “This is how God brought me through. And He will do it for you too.”
My life is a living testimony.
And I am so, so grateful.
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