Their anger was alive.

Spitting and frothing it bayed for her blood.

Her sin exposed.

“Our purity demands her life”, they screamed.

A trap for Him, but He held their hearts up like a mirror.

Who could throw the first stone?

Her shame covered by His love.



The storm whipping wildly around me.

Salty mist obscuring my way.

Fear clawing its way through my heart.

Darkness waiting.

Then, Your gentle voice riding on the wind: ‘Come. Follow me.’

I step out of the boat, water cold on feet, Your hand reaching for mine.


Writing for the bruised ones.

On Easter Sunday, our little boy became very ill and after an emergency admission to the children’s hospital, he was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

It has been an interesting few days since. We have been trying to find our way around clinic appointments, low blood sugar, endless finger-pricking and 5+insulin injections per day.

Our little boy is also autistic and has sensory challenges which make the endless injections a challenge for him, at times.

At first, I was just incredibly grateful that God had him so firmly in His hand. We were spared diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA) – a critical emergency that claims many lives every year.

I read articles about parents who have lost children due to DKA. I realised how very fortunate we were, and yet, my heart ached for my son. I couldn’t but not wonder just *why* God had allowed yet another challenge in this little boy’s life. As with most of these hard questions that we tend to ask at 3h00 am, I have had no answers. However, I realised that I can’t be the only one asking these questions. There have to be more parents standing before God, faith slightly stunned, trying hard to trust that He knows the way forward and that He is completely in control.

I also realised that many Christians don’t always know how to respond to the hurt and confusion of other Christians. We tend to want to fix things, don’t we? We want to give advice, send scripture, send sermons, even admonish when we feel they are not responding in an acceptably faith-filled manner. I realised this years ago when our son was initially diagnosed with autism, and now again when I shared my heart about my fears about the new challenges of living with diabetes.

And yet, what most of us need at that moment when we share our hearts with others, is a simple, ‘I see you. I hear you. I am here for you. I am praying for you. This too shall pass.’

And because of this, I have decided to focus my writing on those who, like me, feel a little bruised sometimes. Those, like me, who dwell on the edge of faith, but always know the grace of Jesus. Those, like me, who ask hard questions at 3h00 am. Those, like me, who often feel as if we cause discomfort to many in the church. Because we have been prayed for, prayed over, prophesied over, we’ve completed the courses and the assignments and still, our lives seem to resemble the trenches of Job. There is *still* no healing. The challenges are still there. It flies in the face of scripture and our faith, but yet… this is life. Jesus told us that we would face challenges and hardship, even more than those who do not follow Him. But to some this becomes almost an affront. It becomes uncomfortable to hear the voice of the Christian who does not see the desperately sought-for healing. To revisit the life of the one who struggles with illness despite believing God for healing.

We have become so uncomfortable sitting with the broken and the bruised. And yet, God promises that He will never crush a bruised reed, or snuff out a smouldering wick.

So, if you find yourself there. Take heart. You are not alone.

I write for you, and I write for us.


Holding on for the beauty.

He has made everything beautiful in its time…

Ecclesiastes 3:11

…and so, you need not fear that your middle-of-the-night tears have gone unnoticed.

That the future scenario you’ve played out endlessly in your head is the only possible outcome to the worries that threaten to strangle you at times.

Romans 8:28 reminds us that everything works together for our good if we love God.

But, this sentence in Ecclesiastes is at once a gentle reminder, that not only can He make the greatest heartache work to our benefit, but He can also turn our ashes into something beautiful.

In its own perfect time.

A Word of Hope for when You feel Bruised and Broken.

Hope for the bruised one who worships on the fringes of faith.

Afraid to come closer.

Afraid of coming empty-handed and broken-hearted.

You are seen.

You are loved.

Even though your head is bowed low and you are running on empty.

God sees you.

You are enough,

for Him.


A bruised reed He will not break,
and a smouldering wick He will not snuff out,
till He has brought justice through to victory.

Matthew 12:20 NIV