Well, y’all, it has definitely been an incredible couple of weeks.
I missed blogging last week as I was focused on finishing my book, Thick Skin, Soft Heart: Healing Our Broken Relationships with the Mind of Christ. And this weekend, as the snow kept us all at home…
God moved.
He enabled me to finish the manuscript. 🙌🏼🎉
Of course, we know God is always moving in the lives of His people—but we can miss it. And sometimes, if we’re honest, we stop living with the expectation that He might actually do the thing we’ve been longing for.
Then, as I was editing the manuscript this morning…
God moved again.
The Lord showed me places where the words needed to change—not for style or clarity, but for her. Someone I don’t know. Someone who is suffering deeply. Someone who will one day read these words from a place of pain.😭
As I thought of her, the words flowed differently—more sensitive, more aware, more tender. I prayed that they would minister to her brokenness and bring the healing she needs.
And God moved this week on my behalf, too.
As I write this, I am keenly aware that the Lord moved in a profound way in my life this past weekend—one that leaves me standing in awe and gratitude.
But first, I need to set the stage.
Our church has been in the midst of a 12-day fast and prayer event. And honestly, I didn’t know how I could participate. Health challenges have been heavy lately, especially as I’ve tried to focus and write.
I was dealing with vicious weekly migraines every Tuesday—debilitating ones, complete with vomiting and being incapacitated for an entire day, followed by days of recovery. And then, as if that weren’t enough, came the sudden addition of constant ringing and humming in my ears.
I had been trying to push through. Quietly. Tired. And if I’m honest, beginning to accept this as my new normal.
But on the final day of the fast, as I prepared to write the last chapters of the book, the Lord invited me to fast and pray. Then He placed it clearly on my heart to attend the worship and prayer gathering that night to ask Him to heal me of my migraines.
And so I went.
Expectant. Emotional. Worn down. The suffering had been so great that I was honestly scared to hope.
But God.
As the event began, the pastor said,
“Someone is here tonight to be healed of migraines.”
Not a list.
Not a general statement.
Just migraines.
I wept—hopeful and terrified to believe.
Even as I worshiped, the crown of my head was hurting. The familiar pain was there. But I said out loud, “No. I believe.”
As I walked forward for prayer, the Lord had one of my former students pray for me.
I didn’t feel an immediate dramatic change—just peace.
And God moved.
He didn’t have to. I had already told Him I would praise Him either way.
But He did.
And friends…I have not had a migraine since.
Sometimes it feels almost reckless to believe that the long-awaited thing—the thing you’ve quietly stopped hoping for—might actually be possible.
But God is still on the move.
And I pray, from the bottom of my heart, that the ache you’re carrying will be the very place He moves next.
Scripture Reflection
“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18
God’s nearness is often most clearly revealed not in our strength, but in our ache. Throughout Scripture, we see a pattern: God moves toward those who are weary, desperate, and quietly losing hope. He listens to cries that feel too fragile to voice and meets us in places where we’ve begun to accept pain as permanent.
When God moves, it is not random or careless—it is personal. He attends to hearts, not performances. Whether His movement looks like healing, endurance, peace, or provision, His presence reminds us that our suffering is seen and our prayers are heard.
As you reflect, ask yourself:
- Where have I stopped expecting God to move?
- What ache have I quietly accepted as “just how it is now”?
- How might God be inviting me to trust Him again—not with certainty, but with surrender?
🙏 Closing Prayer
Lord, You are the God who sees, who knows, and who moves with compassion toward Your people. Thank You for meeting us in our weariness and reminding us that no prayer offered in faith is ever wasted. Where hope has grown faint, breathe new life. Where pain has lingered, draw near with Your presence.
Teach us to trust You—not only for what You can do, but for who You are. We place our aches, our waiting, and our praise in Your hands, believing You are still at work. Amen.
Visit the ShameRx Blog for When God Does Not Seem to Move
All for Jesus,
Denise