I’ve sat down—hands to board, fingers to keys—only to meet silence. Not the kind that invites stillness, but the kind that resists movement. I suppose it’s obvious by now: there’s been no post.

I have the framework for continuing in Acts. It’s solid. Structured. Faithful. And I still plan to use it.

But right now, I long for something else.

Not just exposition. Not just discipline. But transformation—holy change. A shift that doesn’t just come from writing about the Word, but from being pierced by it. And for that, I need a different method. A different rhythm. A different honesty.

The framework is good. But perhaps it isn’t enough for this particular stretch of the path.

So I’m setting out to explore a theory: that maybe, just maybe, this holy change must be discovered in the telling—in the raw, Spirit-led story that forms while the ink is still wet and the soul is still listening.

Let’s see what unfolds.