Fresh Fire

There are moments in our walk with God where language has to shift from poetic to plain, from reflective to sobering. This is one of those moments. Because this is not about inspiration, this is about alignment, this is about consecration, this is about urgency.

I have been in awe of God as an all-consuming fire. More recently, I’ve pounded on my belly in worship, praying and receiving fresh fire from God, along with a fresh infilling of The Holy Spirit. It says in John 7:38 that “out of our bellies will flow rivers of living water,” all while simultaneously we are needing to receive fresh fire from The Lord.

There is a tension here that we cannot ignore. We are called to be filled and overflowing, yet many are running dry. We are called to carry both the fire and the flow, yet we have settled for moments that do not sustain either. Fresh fire is not a trend, it is a necessity in this hour, because without it, what we carry becomes routine, and what was once alive becomes mechanical, lacking the power, presence, and purity that mark a life truly consumed by God.

Scripture does not describe God as warm, gentle heat alone. It says in Hebrews 12:29 that “our God is a consuming fire.” And when we hear that, we have to ask ourselves honestly: What does that actually look like?

For most of us, the closest natural picture is a forest fire. Not controlled, not partial, not selective. When a tree is ignited, it is not just the leaves that burn, it is not just the bark that is affected. The entire tree is overtaken. And because trees stand close together, what happens? The fire spreads.

So here is the question that we cannot avoid: If we claim to be on fire for God, why is there no evidence of spread? Why are the people in close proximity to us not being ignited? Not emotionally moved, not temporarily inspired, but transformed.

This is not condemnation, this is introspection.

There has been a call echoing through the Body of Christ, and it is not new. It is simply being re-emphasized with urgency. The time is over for:

• strange fire

• mixture

• dying flames

In Leviticus 10:1–11, Nadab and Abihu offered strange fire before the Lord, fire that He did not command. And the result was immediate. God did not accept what looked spiritual. He rejected what was unauthorized.

In Exodus 30:29–33, the oil was holy, set apart, not to be replicated casually or used commonly. Because what is consecrated cannot be mixed.

And yet, mixture has become comfortable. In 1 Kings 18:21, Elijah asks, “How long will you waver between two opinions?” How long will we try to carry God and culture, truth and compromise, fire and flesh at the same time?

We cannot produce holy fire with a divided life.

Then there is the matter of maintenance. Because fire is not just received, it is stewarded. In Leviticus 6:12–13, the command is clear: The fire on the altar must be kept burning. It must not go out. This means there is a responsibility, there is a rhythm, there is a discipline. Fresh fire is not just a moment at the altar. It is a lifestyle of tending.

And yet, we have settled for moments instead of maintenance.

We say we are a light, but Scripture is very specific. In Matthew 5:14–16, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.” Light is not meant to be contained. It is meant to be seen. It affects everything around it.

And then there is this promise in Isaiah 42:3: “A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out.” God is merciful toward what is barely burning. But hear this clearly: His mercy is not permission to stay dim. It is an invitation to be rekindled.

So we are not just in need of fresh fire. We are in need of oil. Because oil is what sustains fire. In Matthew 25:1–13, the wise virgins were not separated by appearance. They were separated by preparation. They had oil. They had reserve. They had readiness.

This is the hour where identity must be understood rightly. We are:

• marked

• consecrated

• set apart

• anointed

• appointed

Not for comfort, not for performance, but for God’s purpose and His pleasure. As it says in 1 Peter 2:9, “You are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people…”

There are souls attached to our obedience. This is not dramatic. This is truth.

The time is over for playing with fire. The time is over for dim flames that cannot reach anyone else. The time is over for calling emotional moments encounters.

Let this be the challenge: burn for God without compromise.

Do not dim your flame to be accepted by the masses. Do not silence what God has done in you to make others comfortable.

Encourage your brothers and sisters in Christ to remain steadfast, to remain set apart, to remain on fire.

Post the testimony. Share the Scriptures. Pray ALOUD.

Live in such a way that your life points back to Him without apology and without hesitation.

This is not the hour to blend in, this is the hour to stand out, fully surrendered and fully consumed.

Because God is STILL a consuming fire.

The question is not whether He burns, the question is: will we allow Him to consume everything in us that competes with Him?

Because when a life is truly set ablaze, it does not stay contained. It spreads, it reaches, it transforms.

Fresh fire is not a feeling, it is a surrender.

And in that surrender, everything that is not like Him burns.

Transition In Stillness

There is something uncomfortable about being in between.

Not where you used to be.
Not yet where you believe God is taking you.

Just… here.

And if I’m honest, this space does not always feel holy. It feels quiet. It feels uncertain. It feels like nothing is happening. But I am learning that just because something is still does not mean God is not moving.

Scripture says in Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
Not rush and know. Not strive and know.
Be still.

Stillness has a way of confronting everything in you that depends on movement to feel secure. It exposes the parts of me that equated progress with noise, visibility, and arrival. But transition is not loud. It is often deeply silent.

I am in a new place. A new season. A new chapter.
And while there is excitement, there is also a refining that I did not anticipate. Because I thought I was waiting on a moment.
God is developing a posture.

You see, patience is not a time frame. It is a posture. And that posture is not passive. It is active, stretching, and deeply intentional. Galatians 5:22 (AMP) breaks it down in a way that leaves no room for misunderstanding. It says the fruit of the Spirit [the result of His presence within us] is love [unselfish concern for others], joy, [inner] peace, patience [not the ability to wait, but how we act while waiting], kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

That part right there changed everything for me. Patience is not about counting days. It is about character being formed while time passes. Transition is not rushed because transformation cannot be microwaved. We love the idea of arrival. The “I’m here” moment. The visible breakthrough. The answered prayer that everybody can see and celebrate. But God is not fixated on the destination the way we are. He is after the development that happens in the movement. Because if I arrive without being developed, I will mishandle what I prayed for.

Isaiah 43:18-19 says, “Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing, now it springs forth, shall you not know it?”

The new thing is not just a place.
It is a process and sometimes the hardest part about God doing a new thing is that it requires me to release the old one without fully seeing the new one yet. That is where stillness stretches me. Because I want clarity. God is asking for trust.

Philippians 4:6-7 reminds me, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your heart and your mind in Christ Jesus.”

Peace becomes the evidence that God is working, even when I cannot trace what He is doing.

And then there is endurance.

We talk about faith. We talk about favor. But endurance is where the real work happens.

James 1:2-4 says to count it all joy when we face trials, because the testing of our faith produces endurance. And endurance, when it finishes its work, makes us mature and complete, lacking nothing.

Endurance is not glamorous.

It is showing up when you feel unseen.
It is trusting when you feel unsure.
It is continuing when you feel like stopping.

Endurance is the work.
Perseverance is the sweat beads.

Endurance is what God is building in the unseen. Perseverance is what people notice when you keep going and I am realizing that this in-between space is not empty. It is full.

Full of pruning.
Full of stretching.
Full of God gently removing what cannot go with me into what He has prepared.

I am not behind.
I am being built.

So no, I have not had the “boom, I’m here” moment. But I am walking. And this walk is purifying me. It is edifying me, it is producing something in me that arrival alone never could.

Stillness is not stagnation.
It is surrender and this transition is not something I have to rush through. It is something I am being refined in.

So if you find yourself here too
in between
in transition
in stillness

Know this God is not delaying you, He is developing you and what He is producing in you is far greater than where you think you are going.

in stillness, God is moving

A Government VS The Kingdom

With the climate of this world and particularly within the U.S., it’s easy to see how government can both structure and strangle a nation. Policies shift like sand, leaders rise and fall, and every four years we brace ourselves for another wave of division. We pledge allegiance to systems that promise order yet often deliver chaos.

But when we look to the Kingdom of God, there’s a different rhythm. A steadier heartbeat. A government that cannot be voted in or voted out, one that isn’t swayed by polls or politics, but ruled by the eternal King whose Word stands forever.

“For the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our lawgiver, the Lord is our king; it is He who will save us.” — Isaiah 33:22

That single verse dismantles every manmade hierarchy. The Kingdom doesn’t operate on the same infrastructure as democracy or party lines. It operates on divine authority, holy justice, and eternal sovereignty. In the Kingdom, God is not up for election. He is the government.

And this truth hits home for me in a personal way. With my husband being in the military, we often feel the weight of decisions made by leaders and officials far above us. Orders shift, policies change, and sometimes those choices directly affect our home, our time, and our peace. We have to acknowledge the government, yet we choose to serve the Kingdom.

Because while governments of this world may dictate where we go or how long we stay, the Kingdom determines who we are and what we carry. We are not planted in systems that shift; we are trees of righteousness, rooted in Christ Jesus. When storms come, when leadership changes, when uncertainty lingers, our roots remain.

“And the Lord, He is the one who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you; do not fear nor be dismayed.” — Deuteronomy 31:8

God never said we wouldn’t feel fear. He said don’t give it authority. Don’t let it govern your heart. He’s already gone before us. He’s already secured the outcome.

The enemy will give us every reason to doubt God, and God will give us one reason why we should trust Him, and that one truth demolishes every lie, every counterfeit, and every shadow of doubt. This isn’t the time to wonder when or how, but to be reminded of WHO.

To the soldiers who serve, those who wake up daily under orders not their own, I honor you. You may wear the uniform of this nation, but you belong to a higher Commander. You stand as both defender of freedom and vessel of faith. When discipline wears you down, remember your endurance mirrors Christ’s strength in you. You are not unseen. Heaven notices your obedience even when the world does not.

To the spouses and children of service members, and to the families of federal employees, those who sacrifice the quiet stability of “normal” life, I see you. Your faithfulness matters. You carry an unseen weight with unseen grace. Every time you say goodbye, every time you hold your household together while navigating uncertainty, you’re reflecting the steadiness of the God who never leaves nor forsakes.

Even within man’s government, you are representatives of God’s Kingdom. Your home is a mission field. Your endurance is a testimony. Your hope is a light.

Jesus said, “My Kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). He wasn’t drawing a line of separation; He was revealing the difference between control and covenant. The government of man tries to control outcomes; the Kingdom of God transforms hearts. The government legislates behavior; the Kingdom liberates identity. One demands compliance; the other births conviction.

When earthly governments crumble, the Kingdom stands unshaken. When policies change overnight, Heaven’s constitution remains the same.

“And the government shall be upon His shoulders…” — Isaiah 9:6

That means the true weight of leadership rests on Christ, not Congress. His shoulders can bear what no human system can sustain. And when we anchor our hope in Him, we no longer panic with every breaking headline; we posture our hearts in peace.

The world shouts about rights, freedoms, and independence, but the Kingdom whispers of righteousness, freedom in Christ, and dependence on the King. True liberty isn’t found in the absence of laws but in the presence of the Lawgiver Himself.

If you’ve ever felt heavy about the direction of this nation, the corruption, the compromise, the chaos, remember this: you were not created to fit comfortably in a fallen system. You were called to represent a higher one. You’re an ambassador of Heaven, not a citizen trapped by fear.

“For our citizenship is in Heaven.” — Philippians 3:20

So while governments will argue, economies will fluctuate, and leaders will fail, the Kingdom will always advance.

It’s unshakeable. Unbothered. Unstoppable.

And until the kingdoms of this world become the Kingdom of our Lord and His Christ, we live in the tension, governing our hearts with His peace while influencing the earth with His truth.

Because while governments can hinder, the Kingdom heals.

While governments restrict, the Kingdom releases.

While governments divide, the Kingdom unites.

And in the end, every nation, every leader, every law will bow to the only Name worthy of governing all:

Jesus.

Traffic Lights

Last night as I was pulling up to a traffic light, it shifted to red. For a moment, I felt that familiar sting of disappointment and the temptation to get discouraged. But just as quickly as the red light appeared, it turned green and my whole spirit lit up. In that instant, the Lord began to speak.

How often do we treat life like a traffic light, frustrated at the reds and rushing through the greens? We get so eager for what we think we want, need, or even deserve, that we forget: if it wasn’t ordained by God, it was never truly ours to begin with. His rhema word is not a blanket statement, not a one-size-fits-all pep talk. It is designed. Tailored. Ordained. His word is living, breathing, and written specifically for the moment and the person it was intended to reach.

And here’s the revelation: when it is ordained by God, the enemy cannot snuff it out. There is no force in hell that can undo what God has already written with His finger. There is no delay that can cancel His timing. And there is certainly no mistake in His plan.

We wrestle with timing as if God is bound by the clock. We wrestle with silence as if God forgot our address. But if the God of the universe cannot make a mistake, then why do we believe He somehow missed the mark with us, our lives, our families, our prayers? Why do we convince ourselves that He got everyone else right but must have overlooked us? That is not who He is.

If He set the light to red, it was not rejection, it was protection. If He turned it green, it was not coincidence, it was alignment. And if He allowed you to sit in yellow, waiting and watching, it was not wasted, it was preparation.

So breathe. Trust. Yield to the rhythm of His timing. You do not have to race against God. When He speaks, when He releases, when He ordains, it will flow. The light will shift. The path will clear. And you will know it was not by accident, but by divine orchestration.

There is no delay in heaven. And most importantly, there is no mistake.

My Yes

There’s a difference between agreeing with God and surrendering to Him. Agreement says, “That’s a good idea, Lord.” Surrender says, “Here I am, Lord. Take it all.”

When I said yes to God, it wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t this perfect, Instagram-ready moment where I felt holy and whole. My “yes” came through tears, through wrestling, through realizing that my plans had to die if His purpose was going to live through me.

For a long time, I thought my delay was caution. In truth, it was fear. Fear of losing control. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of what obedience would cost me. But God doesn’t bargain with fear. He calls it out. He doesn’t make deals with hesitation. He waits for surrender.

The Word tells us in 2 Peter 3:9 that the Lord is not slow in keeping His promises, but patient with us, not wanting anyone to perish but all to come to repentance. That patience is what met me when I was dragging my feet. He didn’t force me. He waited for me.

Just like Jonah, I tried to run. I tried to negotiate. I tried to choose my own path. But when Jonah came back to God, he discovered that delayed obedience still requires obedience. I had to learn the same lesson. My yes could not be partial. It had to be complete.

The truth is, I was asking God for things but not aligning my heart with Him. James 4:2b-3 says, “You do not have because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives.” That pierced me. My prayers couldn’t just be about blessing. They had to be about surrender.

And then I remembered His heart toward me. Jeremiah 29:11-14 says that He knows the plans He has for me, plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me a hope and a future. It goes on to say that when I call on Him and pray, He will listen, and when I seek Him with all my heart, I will find Him. My yes was not wasted. It was the key to walking into the plans He already had in place.

My “yes” is not glamorous. It has meant walking away from familiar places. It has meant trusting God when the numbers don’t add up. It has meant sacrificing time, energy, finances, and even relationships that could not walk where He was leading me. Yet even in the sacrifice, I’ve heard God whisper what He spoke through Samuel: “To obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Samuel 15:22).

But my “yes” has also unlocked a peace I can’t explain. It has drawn me closer to the heart of God. It has turned what looked like endings into beginnings. It has made me realize that obedience is not about the stage or the spotlight. It’s about the secret place where nobody sees but God, and He whispers, “I’m with you.”

If you’ve been sitting on the edge of obedience, I get it. It’s hard. It costs something. But the truth is, not saying yes costs more. Disobedience delays destiny. Silence suffocates purpose. Hesitation can harden into regret.

The psalmist said, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4). That’s what I’ve found on this side of surrender. God doesn’t just demand obedience. He transforms my desires until they align with His. And then He fulfills them in ways I could never imagine.

So here I am, standing on the other side of fear, still trembling but fully surrendered. My “yes” may not be loud, but it is real. And I pray that in reading these words, you’ll be stirred to give God yours. Not halfway, not when it feels convenient, but fully. Because the Kingdom doesn’t advance on our comfort. It advances on our surrender.

This is the weight of my yes. This is where Drop the Verses begins.