Quiet Unfiltered Notes: From the Fire

Tonight, after finishing my shift at Gold Coast University Hospital , I came home tired. Not just physically tired. The kind of tired that settles somewhere deeper. The kind that arrives after a difficult week. The kind that comes when life changes direction unexpectedly and you find yourself trying to process things your heart has not yet caught up with. Bianca and I were lying in bed winding down for the night. She had Taylor Swift 's Songwriters Hall of Fame speech playing on her phone. I wasn't paying much attention at first. To be honest, I was trying not to think. Trying not to replay the events of the week. Trying not to revisit conversations I wish had gone differently. Trying not to analyse every detail of things I still don't fully understand. But then a sentence caught my attention. Then another. And before I realised it, I found myself completely drawn in. Not because it was an award speech. not because she was talking about fame But because she was talking abo...

This morning I am sitting quietly with my first coffee of the day. The house is still. The sky outside is only just beginning to wake up. In a little while I will put on my uniform, get ready for work, and head off for another shift at Gold Coast University Hospital . But before the day begins, I find myself sitting here reflecting. It has been a difficult week. One of the more difficult weeks I have experienced in quite some time. There have been disappointments. Questions. Conversations I never expected to have. Chapters that ended much sooner than I thought they would. Plans that suddenly changed. The kind of week that leaves you emotionally exhausted before you even realise how tired you are. To be honest, I have spent much of the last several days trying to process everything. Trying to make sense of things. Trying to understand what God is doing. Trying to understand why certain doors close while others open. Trying to reconcile disappointment and faith at the same time. And if I...

Standing Between Chapters This morning I am sitting quietly with my first coffee of the day. The house is still. The world feels slower. And for the first time in a long time, I honestly do not know what comes next. Yesterday my time at Bible college came to an end unexpectedly. Even writing that sentence feels strange. A part of me still does not fully believe it. A part of me keeps replaying the conversations in my head trying to make sense of them. Trying to understand what happened. Trying to understand why. Trying to understand what God is doing. And if I am completely honest this morning, I do not have answers. I wish I did. I wish this was one of those blog posts where I could neatly tie everything together with a bow and tell you exactly what lesson God is teaching me. I wish I could tell you I am full of peace. I wish I could tell you I understand the purpose. I wish I could tell you I saw it coming. I cannot. The truth is I am angry. I am disappointed. I am confused and have...

Your Glory Is My Promised Land Inspired by the song " Glory" by Naomi Dappen . All lyrical credit belongs entirely to her. If these words move you, go listen to her music. I have been listening to a song for the last few days that I cannot seem to shake. Not because it is catchy. Not because it has been stuck in my head. But because every time I hear it, it confronts me. The lyrics are simple: "I want Your glory more than Your promise." "I seek Your face more than Your hand." "If I have Your presence I'll sleep in deserts." "Oh Your glory is my promised land." The first time I heard those words, I stopped what I was doing and listened again. Then I listened again. And again. Because the more I sat with those lyrics, the more I realised they were exposing something in me. If I am completely honest, much of my early walk with God was transactional . I loved God. I genuinely believed. I prayed. I read Scripture . But underneath all of...

Jesus Is With You in the Pressure I have been thinking a lot lately about the pressure men carry. Not the kind people see publicly. The hidden pressure . The pressure that sits quietly underneath everyday life while you still somehow keep functioning. I do not think people fully understand how much weight many men are carrying internally while still showing up every day pretending everything is normal. You still go to work. Still pay the bills. Still answer texts. Still laugh at jokes. Still tell people you are “just tired.” Meanwhile internally your mind feels like it has been holding its breath for six months. I know that feeling well. There have been seasons of my life where I felt like I was carrying so much pressure internally that even small things started affecting me emotionally. A bill arriving at the wrong time. One difficult conversation. One more responsibility. One more unexpected expense. One more stressful shift. And suddenly your nervous system feel...

Yesterday Bianca and I were driving to get her car fixed. It was one of those ordinary moments that should have passed by unnoticed. Nothing dramatic. Nothing profound. Just two people in a car driving across the Gold Coast dealing with the normal responsibilities that come with everyday life. Then out of nowhere she asked me a question. A simple question. The kind of question people ask casually. The kind of question that normally gets a quick answer. "What age would you like to revisit?" I don't know if it was the frame of mind I was already in. I don't know if I was tired. I don't know if I was emotionally vulnerable. I don't know if God used the question to expose something that had been sitting quietly beneath the surface for a long time. But as soon as she asked it, something happened. It felt almost cinematic. Like a movie reel suddenly started playing inside my mind. Images. Memories. Conversations. Faces. Places. Moments. Entire chapters of my life f...

   There is something real specific about a hospital hallway at midnight. Approaching the end of my shift at the Gold Coast University Hospital The walls sort of narrow in on your mind. The flat fluorescent lights blur everything together until it feels like it could be any hour, any decade, or any century, if it weren't for the machines blinking along the walls, keeping their quiet little vigils. It was right there, that this thought hit me with the quiet weight of something I'd always known but never quite put into words.   We burn so much energy trying to boss time around. We bend it, twist it, and stretch it to fit our jobs, our projects, and our schedules. We look at the calendar and try to squeeze in holidays, birthday dinners, and deadlines. We talk about "making time," "saving time," or "buying time" like it's something we can trade in a market. We colour-code our digital planners. We negotiate deadlines. We slash hours from one thing j...