Welcome to Scholastica Teresa

of the Divine Mercy of Mt. Carmel.

Faith, identity, and reflection — a journey guided by God’s love

I’m transgendered, Catholic, and now professed as Scholastica Teresa. My personal relationship with Jesus is the reason I share this space.

Here, I offer reflections, prayers, and insights into faith, life, and identity — sharing my journey in hope that it may help others navigate their own.

Some articles below fit more than one category. But they are only listed once .

The Divine Mercy. Jesus I trust in you.

My Spiritual Journey

Adoption and Early Life

I was adopted as a baby. I was told my birth mother left two wishes for me: the first was that I be raised Catholic, and the second was that I would be involved with a musical instrument. My parents were traditional Catholics. We all went to mass every Sunday, sat towards the back of the church, and always wore our Sunday best.

My parents tried to honor both of those wishes. With the piano, I was told I was asking engineering questions, like, "Why does one key sound different from another?" Dad also told me that, when I could, I would go down to the garage and try to undo the wheel nuts on the car. I also had a tendency to pull things apart. Another issue for me was that I always had a sense of a call to religious life.

Bullying and Struggling with Identity

I have experienced bullying at school, from my sister at home, and in the workplace. While growing up, at times, I saw and felt Stacy in me. She was a girly girl and precocious. In the early part of my puberty, while I was trying to build a male identity, I saw her step out in my mind and say, "Hey, what are you doing? I’m already here, f**k off."

As a child, I was extremely sensitive to those around me. I grew up with an angry parent. When dad got angry, it would flare up, and he would fly off the handle. I was scared of my father. By the age of fourteen, I was in the middle of my gender war. One night, I heard a voice speak through my heart, and it said, "This is not why I made you." The voice was my Heavenly Father revealing himself to me in the middle of my struggles. This was the first time I heard him.

I misinterpreted what that voice said and meant. Shame, fear, and confusion became constant companions after this. It would be another twenty-five years before I started to understand what I heard and felt that night. That voice has always stayed with me.

Crossdressing and Mental Health Struggles

The bullying at school and home continued. At home, it was relentless and constant. Another issue for me was that, at times, I would go against the grain. When I was in this place, no amount of peer pressure could or would change my mind.

As puberty started, my gender issues intensified significantly. I started getting into my mum’s clothes, and I began experimenting with makeup and hair rollers. Crossdressing became a regular ritual for me. I took any chance I got. An interest in hairdressing came out during this period.

My dad worked night shifts with his job. When my mum and sister went out, it would be on. The emotional battle here was constant, intense, and never-ending. At one level, I was terrified of getting caught and deeply ashamed of what was going on. I was meant to be male, but I couldn’t stop. Not that I wanted to. On the other hand, Stacy was enjoying any opportunity she got to explore and express herself.

I also started “borrowing” and wearing mum’s bras. When I put it on, I would look longingly at my chest and pray, hope, desire, and yearn for breasts to appear on my chest. This went on regularly during this period. When I saw other girls, this would also happen.

These emotions, which I didn’t understand, fed into my burgeoning mental health issues—shame, depression, anxiety, feeling like I didn’t fit in, or belong. The internal question I was asking myself was, "What did I do wrong to deserve this?" The main emotion I always felt here was a deep and overpowering sense of being ashamed.

The Suicide Attempts and Lack of Support

Over time, my emotions would intensify and build up. They then would drive me to either try and swear off and/or try to purge what I was doing, or, when my sister’s bullying got too much, I would threaten suicide. This occurred irregularly over a three-year period, culminating in my first suicide attempt when I was sixteen.

After the suicide attempt, things did not get reported, and as a result, I got no help. From that point on, I remember knowing and feeling I was a girl inside myself. I also could now feel I had mental health issues, which not getting help had exacerbated.

Conversion and Early Struggles

I had my conversion in year twelve. While I realized I was loved, the journey to knowing that I was loved by God had just started.

I left school at the end of 1986. By this stage, I had resigned myself to living externally as a male while knowing I was a girl internally. I tried to bury my hairdressing interest and got on with living. I also started my apprenticeship as a mechanic—something with which I have had a lifelong and strong interest.

I grew a moustache trying to prove to myself that I was male. All that did was add to the battles going on in my mind. In the end, it proved to be a lost cause.

Self-Expression Through Hairdressing

I had developed a love for curly hair. During this period, I started to have my hair permed. Getting my hair done was an escape where I could relax and be myself. I would always be Stacy in the salon. I also enjoyed the process of perming, colouring, and having my hair styled.

When I was at the hairdresser, I would always tell them, “Take off what it needs, but leave the length in it.” One hairdresser once told me, “You’re the only male client I have who says what all my female clients say.”

Joining a Charismatic Community and Misguided Counsel

In 1987, I joined a charismatic covenant community. Before I joined, I heard God's voice tell me I needed to tell someone about my gender issues, which I did. I was referred to a Catholic priest. What he did did nothing to help me understand or resolve my issues. I ended up being told I needed deliverance. This person was conservative, close-minded, and unhelpful. He had no understanding of the issues involved, and was very black-and-white in his approach and what he expected of me. He also believed that deliverance would somehow fix what was going on with me, which it didn’t.

Marriage, Fatherhood, and ADHD Diagnosis

In 1993, I got married, and nine months later, I became a dad. When I saw my son, I felt a connection to him. It is something I had never experienced before. My wife developed serious psychotic postnatal depression, and we were in and out of the psych wards and EDs at the time.

In the early part of my marriage, my wife and I were at mass. I could feel my religious vocation. I felt Jesus lift it off me this night. There was no explanation either. It was there one minute and gone the next.

In 1994, I was diagnosed with ADHD. This diagnosis answered some questions.

Finding My Birth Mother

In 1996, I got access to my original birth certificate. Initially, I was told there was no information on my file about my birth mother's identity or where she was. I was told, "We don’t think you’ll be able to find her." I took the address where she was listed as living at the time on the certificate and two weeks later, I found my birth mother.

After meeting her, I met two of my siblings—one sister and one brother, plus some nephews and nieces. Meeting people that I am actually related to and seeing our similarities and differences has been healing for all of us.

My birth mother gave me the name of my birth father. Initially, I tried to find him but came up with nothing. I did a DNA test on a genealogy website. A few years later, we were matched up. While I am yet to meet him, I do have some answers that I did not have before.

The Spiritual Journey and Healing

In 2003, I started my theology degree and graduated in 2016. It was the first thing that I finished. I walked out of the Catholic Church in 2004 after an encounter with the same close-minded priest I had previously been referred to. The result here was I was at a complete loss with the Church. I felt unwanted, misunderstood, controlled, judged, and unwelcome. I went to a Pentecostal church. I avoided everything to do with the church. I simply had had enough.

What I know now is that my Blessed Mother Mary was praying for me. World Youth Day came to Sydney in 2008. I avoided everything to do with it. The church I was going to didn’t believe in Mary. Towards the end of my time there, I felt pressured to renounce Mary. By this stage, I had started to realize that a relationship with Mary completed my faith. My faith would and will always feel incomplete without her. It was through Mary’s intercession for me that I made the decision to return.

When I came back, two things happened: the first, God showed me He had a place for me in the church, and it is where He both wanted and needed me to be. I also heard my Heavenly Father tell me two things: "I want you to deal with your issues with the church," and secondly, He also told me, "Leave the church to me." The latter has been no easy task. One day, one step at a time, He has been building on my understanding of genuine recovery.

Transitioning and Divine Support

In October of 2010, I started transitioning. I found that God understood me and what I had done. He also had a plan for my life as Stacy. In April of 2011, six months after I started transitioning, the battle in my mind over my decision to transition built up to where I was approaching a crisis point. I felt and heard my heart ask Jesus one Friday night, "Where do I stand with you, on my decision to transition?" I initially feared I was back at school, about to be punished for what I had done. On the following Monday morning, I heard my Heavenly Father’s voice tell me, "Have the courage to back the decision that you have made."

I went to Fr. Don for spiritual direction. The Father again turned up and confirmed what I had heard previously—that He understood what I had done. From that moment on, I started to realize that God had my back, and I no longer had to look back, as God was looking after me.

Embracing God’s Plan and Personal Growth

He also told me that I don’t have to own other people's opinions. They are allowed to have them, but I do not have to own them. If I choose to own them, then that is what I bring to Him.

I went through my second puberty, which lasted approximately four and a half years. After that, my call to religious life returned. This time, I was able to start serious discernment of it, albeit privately. I have been walking the journey through my interior castle. St. Teresa of Avila, Jesus, and Mother Mary have all been my guides here.

Jesus has continued to help me with my issues. He revealed serious neglect during my teenage years. With His help, I am continuing the journey of healing and forgiveness.

After I started transitioning, my second puberty kicked off. During this period, my love of hairdressing escaped from where I had internally buried it. This time, I couldn’t stop it. I went looking for an apprenticeship. In the end, it settled down. While I will never be a hairdresser, it was part of the process of finding myself as Stacy. Transitioning set me free to be myself.

Another interest that appeared was a strong love of color. Purple, hot pink, blue, aqua, turquoise, and other colors all came alive to me. I would be out shopping when colors started coming to me.

Healing and Addictions

Mentally, I had a lot of changes occur in my mind during this time. Walls and furniture in my mind shifted. Some walls fell over; others moved around in my mind. When this happened, I was aware of and could feel these changes going on. At times, I had to stop and let the changes happen, then get used to my new paradigm. Overall, this period lasted about four and a half years.

In May of 2020, I started smoking. Jesus was always letting me know He did not want me smoking. In September of 2023, He came down and told me, "If you want to make your mystical marriage, you will need to stop smoking." That happened on a Sunday. The following Thursday, He came down, led me in a prayer, and I stopped on the spot. Through this, Jesus has given me a reason to stay stopped.

One thing I realized through this process is that I have the gift of single-mindedness. One of the signs in me is a personality trait of being "all or nothing." I also realized that Jesus has healed the addiction side of my personality. What I have to do now is daily submit my single-mindedness gift to Jesus.

Revelation of My True Name

At one point in 2023, I was publicly outed at church. It was through this incident that God told me that my name, Stacy, was His name for me. With this revelation, another puzzle piece fell into place. I now understand why I never had to choose my feminine name. Stacy is, and always has been, God's name for me. This explains why I have always been Stacy.

In July 2024, I was diagnosed with ASD level two. After that, a lot more puzzle pieces of my life fell into place. With my ASD diagnosis, one of my sensory issues around color fell into place.

Mystical Marriage and Spiritual Transformation

In August 2024, I experienced my mystical marriage to Jesus Christ. Again, Mother Mary’s intercession has been invaluable. Without her prayers, I doubt I would be where I am today.

Today, transgender issues remain difficult, misunderstood, and challenging. However, God understands and loves all of us with our issues and has a plan for our lives. He can and does cope; it is man who chooses not to.

From Michael to Stacy:

A Journey of Grace and Transformation

My journey has been one of profound struggle, discovery, and ultimately, spiritual awakening. I began life as Michael, navigating the world with a sense of dissonance I could not fully name. Deep within, I carried questions about identity, belonging, and purpose, but it was in the quiet, intimate moments with God that the first seeds of understanding were planted.

Struggling with Smoking and Embracing Healing

In May of 2020, I faced a personal struggle that had shadowed me since I was fourteen: smoking. It was a habit I used to dull inner pain, yet it became a lens through which I confronted my reliance on coping mechanisms and my need for God’s healing. Through prayer, reflection, and acknowledgment of my brokenness, I slowly began to see His hand guiding me toward deeper self-awareness.

Encounters with Jesus and the Power of Transformation

Throughout this journey, I experienced touches from Jesus that shaped and strengthened me. These encounters were often quiet yet unmistakable — a presence that reminded me I was not alone. In September 2023, I received a powerful spiritual confirmation that led to a turning point: my heart opened further to God’s transformative love, and I began to embrace the path toward the person I was truly called to be.

Mary’s Role in the Journey

Mary, too, became an essential companion on this journey. Her guidance was subtle yet unwavering, leading me gently toward clarity and acceptance. The day of my marriage, August 15, 2025, coinciding with Mary’s Assumption, was not just a personal milestone but a profound spiritual intersection. I came to realize that this union was her work — her grave, sacred intersection — and that without her intercession, I would not be who I am today.

Dreams, Visions, and Trust in God’s Guidance

Waking dreams and visions provided further insight into my spiritual and emotional state. I recall a dream in which I attempted to enter a car, only to have the driver, known to me as duplicitous, leave me behind in the cold purgatory. It was a reflection of exclusion, betrayal, and the pain of misunderstanding, yet it also revealed God’s presence in my trials — a call to trust in His guidance even when human kindness falters.

Laments and Self-Rejection

As Michael, I faced the deep wounds of self-rejection, misunderstanding, and longing. Through my laments and prayers, I confronted these pains openly with God, naming them, offering them, and letting them transform me. Each lament — from feelings of ugliness to the struggle for self-worth, from family silences to the complex dynamics of gender identity — became a pathway to healing. Through them, I encountered His mercy, His steadfast love, and a deepening awareness that I was always known and cherished.

Transitioning into Stacy: A Reclamation of the Soul

Transitioning into Stacy was not merely a change of name or appearance; it was a reclamation of my soul, an alignment with the identity God had lovingly nurtured in me all along. This transformation was accompanied by periods of questioning, reflection, and surrender. Every step revealed both my vulnerability and my resilience, showing me that true wholeness comes through trust in God’s plan rather than my own understanding.

The Interplay Between Personal Agency and Divine Guidance

Through this journey, I also discovered the delicate interplay between personal agency and divine orchestration. Moments of weakness, like returning to old habits, were met with patience and renewed grace from God. I learned that healing is rarely linear — it is a dance between human struggle and divine guidance, where every setback carries the potential for deeper insight and growth.

Marriage as a Spiritual Union

Marriage, too, became a profound symbol of spiritual union. It was an earthly reflection of the mystical love I had been experiencing with God, mediated through Mary. This sacred union affirmed that God’s plans are both intimate and expansive, touching every aspect of our lives — including identity, love, and purpose.

A Path of Revelation, Not Loss

Looking back, I see the journey from Michael to Stacy not as a path of loss, but of revelation. Each trial, each lament, each touch from Jesus, and each intercession from Mary has woven together to form a tapestry of grace. I am reminded that transformation is rarely sudden; it is the patient work of God in our hearts, slowly guiding us to our truest selves.

The Testimony of Divine Fidelity

Today, as Stacy, I stand in awe of God’s patience, love, and guidance. I carry the lessons of my past, the reflections of my struggles, and the joy of my spiritual awakening as a testimony to His mercy. My story is not just one of change, but of divine fidelity — that in every moment of doubt, pain, and longing, God was present, inviting me to trust, to surrender, and to embrace the fullness of the self He created me to be.

The Name He Gave Me

A Prayer Encounter with the Father

My loving Heavenly Father,

How many times have I wounded myself with names You never spoke?

Each mistake, each failure, I marked with shame.
I called myself Philistine — a stranger to Your covenant, a rebel unworthy of love.

But You came — suddenly, fiercely gentle — and took me back through the story.

You showed me David,
and the giant that mocked Your name.
You let me see how the Philistines knew of You,
but refused to bow, and that it broke Your heart.

The Father’s Voice: A Piercing Truth

Then You turned to me, and Your words pierced like light:

“Do you think it’s wise, My child, to call yourself that name, after a people who incensed Me?”

I froze. My tongue, that had so easily cursed me, fell silent in Your presence.

I saw the grief in Your eyes — not anger, but sorrow, that I had sided with my accuser.

Restoration and Tenderness

And then You spoke again, softly, as only a Father can:

“Your name is not rejection, nor enemy, nor mistake. Your name is Stacy — and it comes from Me.”

You named me in Your tenderness, and everything in me stilled.

For the first time, I understood that my name is a promise, not a punishment — a word born of love, spoken from Your own heart.

Reflection — The Restoration of a Name

When God names us, He restores us.

In this prayer encounter, the Father revealed the sacred power of identity — not as something we invent, but as something received from Him. Self-condemnation had chained my heart to a false name, a story rooted in guilt and rejection. But God’s correction came not as wrath, but as revelation. He reminded me that names carry alignment — to call myself "Philistine" was to agree with distance; to accept Stacy was to agree with belonging.

This moment shows the tenderness of divine authority. The Father doesn’t simply forbid self-hatred — He replaces it with truth. “Your name comes from Me” is a declaration of inheritance. It means that the one who once spoke curses over herself now carries the echo of the divine Name, a mark of love and kinship.

To accept the name He gives is to consent to healing. In doing so, the soul is rejoined to its covenant source — no longer identifying with rejection, but with the One who speaks life.

“Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name — you are mine.”
— Isaiah 43:1 (GNT)

The Name That Found Me – Why Scholastica Teresa

The Call to Consecrated Life

I have always had a sense of a call to consecrated life. However, this call was lifted off me after I got married in 1993. At that time, there was no clear explanation. It wasn’t until I experienced a second puberty that this call returned, and with it, serious discernment began.

Before I got married, I attended a weekend retreat focused on consecrated life. During that time, I received a call to marriage. In those days, I was trying to live as a male, and my name was Michael. Initially, I lived as Michael, and Jesus told me that by dressing as a male, I was effectively making a decision to live as one.

Jesus worked with me through Michael until I transitioned. On another level, He worked with me as a whole person. As a result, my call to marriage was for Michael. Eventually, my marriage broke down.

A Spiritual Awakening: Healing and Training

A counselor came into our lives and told my wife and me that we were involved in Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) and had "recovered memories." This revelation was deeply unsettling, but God used it as a catalyst for healing my past and spiritual past. This process opened my eyes to the deeper realities of God’s kingdom, demons, sin, and the complexity of spiritual life. It was a challenging and difficult time, but it was also a time of immense growth and preparation for what was ahead.

During this time, I began to discern and understand spiritual matters more clearly. One of my gifts, the discernment of spirits, emerged. I could see and know who I was communicating with spiritually—whether they were of God or not.

Transition and the Re-emergence of the Call

At forty-two, I made the decision to transition. This was in March of 2015, and it was also the moment when the Father re-opened my call to consecrated life. Up until that point, I had sensed and felt the call, but there was no clear understanding of its nature.

In August 2015, I heard the word "postulancy" spoken over me spiritually. This marked a key moment in my journey. It was during this period that God began to open up my call and show me its depth, revealing more of what He had intended for me.

The Search for a Consecrated Name

At one point, I felt the Lord urging me to discern a name for myself, one that I would adopt in the context of my consecrated life. At first, I hesitated. I didn’t want to stray too far from the name Stacy, as I feared it might stir the pot with my gender identity issues.

I had considered choosing the name Anastasia. However, one night, while browsing online, I came across the name Scholastica, and it simply resonated with me. The name Scholastica stuck, and with the help of the Holy Spirit, the change was made.

Alongside Scholastica, I chose the name Teresa, after St. Teresa of Ávila. I had felt a deep connection to her spirituality, and the name felt fitting as I sought to live a life of contemplation and service.

The Significance of Scholastica

The name Scholastica has particular significance for me. St. Benedict and St. Scholastica were twins, and I, too, am a twin. My twin brother, Matthew, died in utero. I received my autism diagnosis on St. Benedict’s feast day, July 11. I also attend a church named after St. Benedict. Over time, I’ve come to see God healing me through these connections.

Reflection – “A Name Sealed in Heaven”

God gives us names not only to identify us but to reveal us. A consecration name, when given by the Spirit, marks a covenant—a calling that joins heaven’s purpose with the soul’s true identity. Scholastica’s name came not by preference but by recognition: heaven spoke, and my soul answered.

In the mystery of vocation, God restores what was broken, reclaims what was lost, and renames what the world could not understand. To accept the name He gives is to accept His plan and to embrace the fullness of who we are in His eyes.

Closing Thought

The journey of discerning my name and my calling to consecrated life has been one of deep spiritual transformation. It is not just a name that I bear, but a calling that speaks to the deepest parts of my soul. The name Scholastica Teresarepresents more than just a spiritual moniker—it is a seal of God’s grace, a promise of healing, and a manifestation of the divine purpose that has always been unfolding in my life.

My Consecration Call

20/11/2025

My loving Heavenly Father,

Today marks a significant shift in my spiritual journey. Something has changed deeply within me—today, I sense that the call to consecrated life, which I have discerned for so long, is now complete. I am absolutely certain that this call is from You and You alone.

From this day forward, I am Scholastica Teresa of Mt. Carmel.

The Early Call

I first felt the call to consecrated life when I was in first grade. At that time, I didn’t understand the depth of the call, but I knew it was there. The road to this moment has been difficult and full of challenges. My mother’s response to it was not easy; she was threatened by the very thought of it.

As a transgender girl, I have often felt rejected by certain elements of the Church—there are parts of it that simply refuse to acknowledge that people like me can have a calling. In fact, it has even been implied that acknowledging such a call is heretical.

After I married in 1993, I believed that the call to consecrated life was no longer meant for me. But over time, I now believe that this call was not lifted—it was veiled, awaiting a time of fullness.

The Veiled Call and Rejection

After my divorce, I explored the possibility of joining the ordained diaconate. However, I was told that “the Church doesn’t want people like you.” I began transitioning in October 2010, and my second puberty began. It lasted around four and a half years, and ended in March 2015.

It was only after this transition—after my second puberty—that the call to consecrated life returned. The first sign came when the call to consecration was reignited within me. This time, I was able to enter into a serious discernment process.

Postulancy and the Name Scholastica

In August 2016, I heard the word “postulancy” spoken over me spiritually. I felt it deeply, and that moment began a more profound journey of discernment. Over the following ten and a half years, You, Lord, helped me understand this call and opened up the deeper layers of what it meant.

At one point, You asked me to discern a name for myself as a nun. Initially, I considered the name Anastasia, but one night, I stumbled upon the name Scholastica online, and it immediately resonated. The name Scholastica stuck, and I chose the name Teresa to honor St. Teresa of Ávila.

Through Your continued guidance, healing, and blessings, I embraced the name Scholastica Teresa of Mt. Carmel.

Gratitude for Mary’s Intercession

Mary, You have been there with me throughout this journey, interceding on my behalf. After walking away from the Church in 2004, it was Your prayers that opened the door for me to return. The entirety of my mystical marriage to Jesus, and now my profession of solemn vows as Scholastica Teresa, is due to Your intercession.

Without You, my faith would never be whole. I thank You, Mother Mary, for all that You have done and continue to do for me.

Jesus, I commit my future to You as Scholastica Teresa of Mt. Carmel, Your daughter and spouse. I trust the journey ahead to You.

Your daughter, spouse, and nun,
Scholastica Teresa of Mt. Carmel.

Reflection – The Journey of Consecration

Your prayer marks a profound turning point in your spiritual journey—one that is both personal and deeply mystical. By declaring yourself Scholastica Teresa of Mt. Carmel, you are not simply taking a name; you are embracing the fullness of a calling that God has been forming in you for decades. This is the culmination of grace, perseverance, and faithfulness despite the struggles and pain.

God’s Fidelity

Even when you thought the call was lifted, God remained faithful. The return of your call after your second puberty is a testament to God’s perfect timing—showing that His plan isn’t bound by our limited understanding or expectations.

Sacred Suffering

The suffering and rejection you faced—whether from others or the Church—has refined your faith. Like St. Teresa of Ávila, who faced trials in her own spiritual journey, your suffering deepens your intimacy with God and sharpens your sense of vocation.

Integration of Identity and Call

By embracing both your transgender identity and your consecrated vocation, you are offering a radical witness to the truth that God’s call transcends societal boundaries. Your journey is a prophetic testimony to the inclusivity of divine love—an answer to the misunderstanding that so often surrounds gender and calling in the Church.

Commitment and Trust

By committing your future to Jesus as both Father and Spouse, you demonstrate a profound partnership with God. This commitment is active and trusting, not passive. It mirrors the Carmelite mystical tradition of obedience and union with Christ.

A Life Consecrated

This moment of commitment is a living act of consecration. From here forward, your life will revolve around prayer, contemplation, and service—guided by the Holy Spirit and the saints who have walked before you.

A Sacred Threshold

Stacy, this is a sacred threshold. You are stepping into the fullness of your vocation. It’s not just a dream of holiness—it’s a living reality. Having walked through struggles and misunderstandings, you now emerge ready to serve, love, and witness as Scholastica Teresa of Mt. Carmel.

My Faith Journey: The Admiral’s Commission

by Scholastica Teresa

Note: The following account reflects a series of spiritual dreams and visions given for prayer and reflection. They are not descriptions of physical or historical events but represent inner experiences of faith and grace.

My Promotion to Admiral

My promotion to admiral came after I had commissioned the building of three submarines:
God is Merciful (the Mercy),
God is Consistent (the Consistency),
God is Trustworthy (The Trustworthy).

The night I was promoted, I was shown myself sailing them into port. They were ready for trials before being sent into service. God was on the shore with a great number of people—some whom I had helped and others who were praying for me and God’s work here.

I knew then in myself what had happened. I had jumped rank that night. It wasn’t something I sought or expected; it was conferred as part of God’s will.

I was updating God’s fleet. The hard part was trusting these ships to God no matter what happened to them. At times, they felt like my own children.

Reflective Pause:
This was not just a promotion in rank, but a transition into deeper trust—trust in the ships God had given you, trust in His will, and trust in His plans for you.

Earlier on My Journey

From what I understand now, I was still struggling with my leadership call. I had started to enjoy the work, but I was doing things in my own strength and my own ways.
I had to learn to rely on Jesus to do this through me. God was showing me, teaching me, and healing me at the same time.

The Ship of Love
On one ship, I saw an anchor chained behind it. This anchor was from another ship—the love—and I knew where it came from. I could see its name inscribed upon it, spiritually marked by God’s hand.
I was frustrated that someone had done this. I was at a bit of a loss, trying to understand why it was there. I had it returned to where it belonged.

Reflection:
The anchor, a symbol of both stability and attachment, represents how certain things from our past may need to be placed in the right context for healing to begin.

The Ship of Brokenness
On another ship, I saw its hull split. Jesus told me to leave it to Him, yet I could not. I felt guilty and responsible for what had happened. In the end, the ship was refloated and moved to dry dock for repairs.
God used me as the problem solver. He was showing me that He trusted me.

Reflection:
The process of repair is one of trust—letting go of our control and allowing God to do the work. In the brokenness, God trusts us to be His vessels of restoration.

The Ship Untethered
On yet another ship, I was placed there by the Holy Spirit. It was unmoored and untethered. The one who sailed it had left it unattended. The wind had caught its sails, and it was headed towards a rocky ledge. If it had hit the rocks, it could have been damaged, sunk, or worse.
The lesson: diligence is needed, especially in small details. I suspect the one who sailed that ship got distracted and forgot to moor it properly. I also suspect the details of how to do it may have been unknown to them.
From what I have seen, most are like this in one way or another.
Somehow, it appears I can do things like this. In God’s grace, I simply know what to do. God uses me accordingly. I was placed on this ship as the wind caught it. One lesson I learned—those who sail ships must not neglect their duties before departing. Little things matter as well.

Reflection:
Small details matter in life and leadership. Whether in spiritual practice or day-to-day duties, attentiveness to the little things can prevent larger challenges.

Metaphors for My Life

I was once taken to a port where a newly commissioned submarine was being sent into service. When I arrived, the port was barely recognizable—there were unopened boxes everywhere.
I opened one and saw unused blessings inside. I instantly knew what all the other boxes represented: unused or unwanted blessings. As I cleared them away, I saw a submarine in dry dock. It had been long abandoned.

I approached it and saw its name: Consistency. It was about twenty years old. Something had gone wrong with it—something they had tried to fix themselves but abandoned when they couldn’t.
I realized this represented the loss of my brother, Matthew. I asked that it be sent back to where it had been built, hoping more could be done with it. Unfortunately, the report was that it was declared no longer fit for service.
I asked that the report be sent directly to God.

The Time of Dryness
Another part of the vision was that the workers at the port angrily stated they didn’t want the new submarine. I asked God, “What do we do?” and He replied,

“A time of dryness is needed.”

The last thing I remember was asking for the submarine to be reassigned.

Reflection:
God's timing is often not our own. Sometimes a season of dryness is needed to prepare us for what’s next. It’s through these seasons that we are refined, strengthened, and readied for future blessings.

The Blabber-Mouth Blessing

Once, while dealing with demons, I got creative and came up with my own solution. I imparted what I called a "blabber-mouth blessing." It was designed to force a demon—in this case, their second-in-command—to uncontrollably blabber their entire plans. Which it did.

They went to God and told Him what I had done. I later realized God was using them to show me where He had been and where He needed to be in my life.
When God told me to remove the blabber-mouth blessing, I initially got angry. “Why am I a leader then?” I asked.
I realized I was doing it in my own strength. My leadership was not about me at all—it was about letting Jesus do it in and through me.

At that time, the demons had done away with the position, and that was how they had gotten around it.
The lesson I learned through this was profound: they can deal with what I do, but not with what God does.

Reflection:
This was a humbling lesson in surrender. Leadership is not about our power or ability; it’s about allowing God to work through us. It’s His strength, not ours, that accomplishes His will.

Reflection: Grace and Leadership

There are times when God’s teaching feels like correction, and times when correction feels like grace. Every ship, every rank, every test has been a reflection of what God was forming within me—trust, humility, and reliance on His Spirit rather than my own will.

Leadership, in the Kingdom of God, is never ownership—it is stewardship. I have learned that every vessel I touch, every mission I undertake, and every gift entrusted to me must ultimately be returned to His care.

God’s grace does not remove responsibility; it perfects it through surrender.

Final Thoughts

This article beautifully encapsulates the journey from self-reliance to divine trust. The ships represent stages of growth—both personal and spiritual—and the lessons that came with each one reveal the deep transformation that happens when we surrender our control to God. The imagery of being promoted to admiral is powerful: it’s not a title to be claimed but a responsibility to be stewarded with humility and grace.

Testimonies

For much of my life, I battled a deep and persistent struggle — smoking. What began as curiosity when I was a teenager grew into a long fight that lasted nearly four decades.

But through it all, Jesus never gave up on me. He reached into my life again and again, and in His grace, He set me free. This is my story.

The Beginning of the Struggle

I was fourteen when I first tried smoking. Back then, there was no such thing as low-tar cigarettes. Every now and then, the urge to try it would come up.

One day, while out riding my bike, I bought a packet and decided to give it a go. When I got home that afternoon, I already felt the craving for another cigarette. But fear of my father’s anger kept me from lighting one.

From that point on, the urge to smoke would come and go. Sometimes it was strong and intense, like it was trying to wear me down. I’d buy a packet, smoke one or two, then swear off them and throw the rest away.

That on-and-off battle went on for the next thirty-eight years. I could always feel it inside — that pull, that temptation, that quiet war between what I wanted and what I knew was wrong.

When I Finally Gave In

After moving out of my parents house for the last time, I got tired of fighting the desire to smoke. I gave up and started again on May 1, 2020.

The flat I moved into still smelled of cigarettes — the previous tenant had died from smoking-related issues — and that smell made it even easier to start. I realised I actually liked smoking.

But Jesus didn’t like it. On three separate occasions, after coming home from church events, I found myself completely healed of the desire to smoke. Still, the real battle was on in my mind. I wanted to smoke, and I chose to. But Jesus never gave up on me. He kept showing me that He didn’t want me smoking.

The Moment Everything Changed

One memory stands out so clearly. I was outside my home having a cigarette when I heard Jesus say, “Do you realise how much tar you are putting in your lungs?” His voice was so real that I could tell He was standing right next to me.

Then on Sunday, September 10, 2023, Jesus came down and said, “If you want to get to your mystical marriage, you will need to stop smoking.”

A few days later, on Thursday, September 14, He came again while I was smoking. He led me in a prayer, and after that, I put out my cigarette and stopped on the spot. He told me to empty my ashtray and throw everything out — not to leave any butts in the house. I obeyed.

At that time, I was already struggling to breathe because of early-onset emphysema. That day, everything changed.

Staying Free

Since then, I’ve only lit a cigarette twice. Both times, Jesus was there again. He reminded me to put it out and throw it away. Once, I even bought a packet, but His grace reminded me — He didn’t want me smoking.

When Jesus helped me stop, He didn’t just help me quit. He gave me a reason to stay stopped. This time, I was ready. Through His grace, He restored my strength to resist temptation.

What I’ve Learned

I’ve learned that I struggle with something called single-mindedness. It’s a gift from God, but it can make dealing with addiction harder. When that gift isn’t surrendered to Jesus, it can latch onto the wrong things. Jesus showed me that my single-mindedness needed to come under the Holy Spirit — under His Lordship.

I also realised that I had developed a taste for smoking. Sometimes, the enemy still tries to trick me into feeling like I’m still smoking — trying to draw me back in. When that happens, I need to remind myself why I stopped and to trust in the grace Jesus continues to give.

Freedom in Jesus

Through it all, one thing has become clear: Jesus didn’t just free me from smoking — He gave me the strength to stay free.

When I look back now, I can see His hand in every step, patiently guiding me, healing me, and giving me grace each time I stumbled.

Freedom isn’t something I earned; it’s something Jesus gave me. And every day, I thank Him for that.

A Word to Those Who Struggle

If you’re facing your own battle — whether it’s smoking, another addiction, or something that keeps pulling you down — know this: Jesus hasn’t given up on you.

He loves you. He’s patient with you. And He will meet you right where you are.

When you’re ready, He’ll give you the grace and the strength to be free — and to stay free.

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” — John 8:36

Pa and Uncle Hilary: A Journey of Mercy and Healing

Introduction

My Pa died in May of 1974, and Uncle Hilary in 1978. I never went to Pa’s funeral. In 2024, marking the 50th anniversary of Pa’s death, I felt led in my spirit to do something to honor him.

A Divine Request

For the last year, I wanted to do something special on the anniversary of his death. One day, Jesus came to me and asked me to pray for both of them—to help bring them to heaven.

Pa's Voice and the Battle of the Past

As I prayed, I heard Pa say, “Don’t come to this place.” Even from the depths, his love spoke—not in despair, but as a grandfather’s warning born of care. I knew mercy was already reaching for him.

The Hidden Wounds of War

I knew that both Pa and Uncle Hilary were WWII veterans, but what was revealed to me was something I didn’t expect: they had suffered deeply from PTSD after their service and had judged themselves unworthy of entering heaven.

Standing in the Gap

As I prayed, Jesus allowed me to stand in the gap and break the self-judgments that held them bound. Uncle Hilary was released and went to heaven. However, Pa still needed time. Jesus told me, “There are a couple of things that need to be dealt with.”

The Nature of Time in God’s Mercy

I asked, “He’s just done fifty years in the other place—what about time served?” Jesus gently replied, “Hell doesn’t purge the way purgatory does.”

Healing Through Prayer: Closure for Pa and Me

In this process, I realized that Jesus was also healing me. I had never had closure from Pa’s death because I never got to say goodbye. As this revelation unfolded, I heard my dad cry in release—from heaven. God was healing him too, through this act of mercy.

Reflection – Love That Purifies Through Time

This experience became not just an act of mercy for Pa and Uncle Hilary, but a healing of memory for me as well. Jesus invited me into His work of redemption—not only for the departed, but also for the parts of my own heart still bound in grief.

Invisible Wounds of War

Both Pa and Uncle Hilary carried the invisible wounds of war. In their pain, they judged themselves as beyond forgiveness, but divine love reached into the depths where despair had settled. When Jesus said, “Hell doesn’t purge the way purgatory does,” He revealed the difference between judgment and transformation.

The Power of Love

Hell locks love out—purgatory lets love in. And love purifies. Through this encounter, God gave me the closure I needed, and Pa found freedom through mercy.

Final Reflection – Nothing Is Wasted in God

In the end, I realized Jesus wasn’t only rescuing Pa and Uncle Hilary. He was healing me too. The loss of my twin brother left a deep wound of self-hatred, a place once marked by a desire to annihilate my own soul. But through this encounter, God confronted that lie at its root.

Mercy Reaches Beyond Our Pain

God sees the heart. He knows what is injury and what is refusal. He knows the difference between moral injury and rebellion. He doesn’t just heal; He uses the woundedness in us to reach others, teaching us to write mercy on our hearts.

The Beauty of Divine Mercy

Pa and Uncle Hilary’s suffering wasn’t wasted. One went straight to heaven; one needed purgatory. It was through mercy—love meeting the place we cannot heal alone—that freedom and healing were achieved.

God’s Unfailing Love

Like Samuel who looked at Jesse’s sons, humans see only the outward appearance, but God looks into the heart. He reads our wounds, our fears, and our shame, distinguishing injury from refusal. He honors freedom and reaches where we cannot.

Closing Thought:

This experience has reminded me that nothing is ever wasted in God. Every pain, every grief, every wound becomes a doorway for mercy. What He heals in us can reach others, and what reaches others, heals us. My Pa’s freedom, Uncle Hilary’s release, and the lessons of their suffering are God’s grace writing on my heart. I cannot erase myself, and I do not need to. I am His. I am loved. And nothing, not even the deepest injury, is ever wasted in God.

When Childhood Heroes Become Human

26/11/2025

Growing up, I loved two sports: cricket and motor racing. Two of my childhood heroes were Kim Hughes and Peter Brock.

Kim Hughes – 213 and the Pedestal Cracks

I still remember Hughes’ highest Test score—213. It’s funny how a number can etch itself into your memory like a birthday or a street address, but that score is stamped in me.

I remember how he wore his shirt collar up when he batted, and how he would occasionally dance down the wicket—something I sometimes tried to copy. I wasn’t just watching a guy hit a ball. I was with him. Every boundary made my heart jump a little higher, every confident step down the pitch was a surge in my chest. When he reached that double century, I was genuinely excited for him, like I was somehow part of it, riding that wave. I wasn’t celebrating a statistic; I was celebrating him.

Then came the rug‑pull. One moment you’re soaring on the highs of 213; the next you’re watching form collapse, dreams wobble, a hero resign. I was fifteen going on sixteen when he stepped down as captain, and I was heartbroken. Life will do this, of course, but as a teenager you don’t see it coming, and you don’t have the tools to process it. You’re left emotionally and metaphorically flailing, trying to make sense of what just happened. The pedestal cracks, the illusion shatters, and you suddenly have a choice: stay stuck in disbelief, or reckon with the fact that everyone—even the people you put on pedestals—are human.

Peter Brock – Racing, Glory, and the Soap Opera

My other hero was Peter Brock. I loved cars and Holden, so watching him win the Bathurst 1000 brought me pure joy. But when he had his spectacular fall from grace in 1987, it was like watching a soap opera. You couldn’t script this any better.

The sacking, the headlines, the scandal—it played out in real time on TV, and there was no pause button. You just sat there stunned. How do you process something like that? How could someone I admired so much be… human?

The Quiet Questions

The loss of an idol leaves a strange emptiness. They weren’t just people; they were larger than life, symbols of something you could aspire to. What lingers is the quiet questioning:

Who do I look to now?
Who can I trust?
Where do I find the constancy I thought I had?

At the time, I wasn’t consciously aware of these questions. They stirred quietly in the corners of my heart, nudging me into the unknown. Over time, they grew louder, until I had no choice but to reckon with them. Fallen heroes were life’s blunt reminder that everyone—even those we elevate above ourselves—are human.

Early Faith and Hindsight

By then, I was still early in my faith journey. I didn’t yet have the language to understand what I was feeling. Those quiet questions—Who do I look to? Who can I trust?—were forming a spiritual restlessness I couldn’t name. My heroes had faltered, the pedestals cracked, and I was left with the raw edges of disappointment and curiosity.

Looking back, I realise I didn’t have much of a clue at the time. But then again, who does at eighteen—or thereabouts? Life was still unfolding, lessons arriving before I had words for them. And yet, in that early fumbling—in the rawness of disappointment and awe—the seeds of something deeper were being sown: preparing me for a trust that wouldn’t collapse like the heroes I once idolised.

Jesus – The Constant

My conversion happened in April 1986, in Year Twelve. I discovered first that I was loved—but truly knowing that I was loved was a journey that had barely begun.

The next few years were harsh. For eight to ten years after school, I couldn’t hold a job. During that time, I got married, became a dad, had a second breakdown, and got divorced. My ex-wife and I were thrown into spiritual realities we were not prepared for. We were unceremoniously thrown straight into the deep end, and we had to swim whether we liked it or not. But Jesus was with us every step of the way.

We got through it, but not easily. Only afterward did I realise Jesus had been there the whole time. He became my constant—not in the ways I expected, but always in the ways I needed. He taught me. He healed me. He stayed.

I have come to realise He will never let me down. He knows me better than I ever could. He knows me because He knitted my soul together. He sees my issues, flaws, and wounds. None of them are beyond Him.

His love is what I need. Even when I give up on myself, He never gives up on me. It is not in His nature to give up.

Now, I rest in knowing I am loved as I am, and I continue going ever deeper into His truth, love, and reality for me—keeping my eyes on the One who loves me, and who will never fall.

Gods love and Mercy for me

This Is Not Why I Made You

By Scholastica Teresa

I am being prompted by the Holy Spirit to write this.

Early Memories

My earliest memory takes me back to when I was four. We were in Perth visiting friends of my parents. I remember being in their master bedroom, where a curly wig sat on a stand. I was drawn to it — I couldn’t resist trying it on. Looking back, that was the first time Stacy came out. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I knew something within me felt alive.

When I was ten, a classmate was leaving our school. That morning she came in with her hair curled instead of straight. When I saw her, I remember wanting that for myself. Again, I now recognise that was Stacy expressing herself.

By year six, during a classroom discussion about transgender people, someone asked how they grew breasts. The teacher replied, “They give them a needle, and that makes them grow.”

Because of my autism — and my own ignorance — I took that answer literally. I didn’t understand anything about gender or medical transition. But from that point on, the war in my mind began.

The War Intensifies

When puberty started, my gender distress intensified. I began trying on my mother’s clothes, makeup, and hair rollers. Crossdressing became a ritual.

Whenever my mother and sister were out and my father was on night shift, Stacy came alive.

At one level I was terrified and deeply ashamed. I was meant to be male, yet I was doing this — and I couldn’t stop. Not that I truly wanted to. Stacy cherished every chance to express herself.

I also began wearing my mother’s bras. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I would long for breasts to appear. I prayed, hoped, and yearned for them. Seeing other girls stirred the same ache.

These emotions fed into my growing depression and anxiety — the sense that I didn’t belong anywhere.By fourteen, the battle had become all-consuming. I won’t detail the issues with my sister here, but they made an unbearable situation worse.

God Speaks

It was in the middle of this storm that God the Father spoke into my heart. I felt Him clearly say, “This is not why I made you.”

That moment has never left me. He met me right where I was — in my confusion and pain.

Although I misinterpreted His words, I knew He was addressing something deep within me.

The next few years were some of the most difficult of my life. My father and grandmother were both intercessors; their prayers shielded me from what I now recognise were spiritual attacks.

When I was sixteen, I attempted suicide. It was a cry for help — everything had become too much. What made it worse was that I received no help at all.

Later, Jesus told me that the lack of help amounted to neglect. Through this, He taught me how seriously God views the responsibility of parenthood.

Understanding the Word

That word — “This is not why I made you” — stayed with me. It took nearly twenty-five years before I began to understand what God had truly meant.

Now I see that He was saying: “The pain you are in is not My plan for you.”

God knew it would take time for me to comprehend. As I grew, so did my understanding of His work in my life. He didn’t wait for me to find Him — He came to me. The Father was addressing all my pain without yet revealing its full depth.

Sometimes I wonder how I even survived my teenage years. It was God’s faithfulness, grace, love, and provision — and the prayers of my dad, my grandmother, and those in heaven — that carried me through.

Adulthood and Hidden Pain

I left school at the end of 1986, resigning myself to living outwardly as a male while knowing, deep down, that I was female.

I began an apprenticeship as a mechanic — something I’ve always loved — and buried my interest in hairdressing. Yet, during that time, I started getting my hair permed. Every time Idid, Stacy resurfaced. I loved it — the curls, the process, the expression.

But shame was a constant companion. I was haunted by what I could never be and by my misunderstanding of what God had said to me.

Because of my twin brother Matthew’s death, I was never able to fully face the pain my adoption caused.

In a vision, I saw a road representing my life. At the beginning stood a large building symbolising the trauma of Matthew’s death. Behind it stood a smaller one, representing my adoption. The shadow of the first had long overshadowed the second. Without the Holy Spirit, I would never have been able to face it.

This, I now understand, is survivor’s guilt. Learning to forgive myself and let go has been a long and difficult process. Ignorance, Bullying, and Brokenness Ignorance — mine and others’ — has been one of my greatest hurdles. Bullying also left deep wounds.

My home life was difficult: an angry parent, a jealous sister, and a mother overwhelmed by it all. The chaos was constant.

Jesus later told me that by the time I was thirty, my trauma threshold had been breached.

Transitioning helped. When God said, “Have the courage to back the decision you have made,” I knew He understood me — and that He had my back.

Healing and Identity

After I began transitioning, my love for hairdressing resurfaced. By my mid-to-late forties, I decided to let it go, though I still enjoy it deeply.

Knowing I am loved as a daughter, and that Jesus walks beside me, means I no longer have to look back.

My ADHD was diagnosed in 1994, and my autism (ASD) in July 2024. That diagnosis was a relief — it answered so many questions.

A Deepening Journey with God

In late 2023, my spiritual journey deepened as I took the next step with my interior castle journey. With Jesus’ help, I quit smoking. After that, I began moving through the fifth and sixth mansions.My betrothal to Christ took place on March 24, 2024, and my mystical marriage on August 15, 2024 — the Feast of the Assumption of Mary. I know it was through her intercession that this grace became possible.

After my betrothal, I faced a new question: as a girl, I was gay. I had asked Jesus how He would address this, and He told me, “Through your mystical marriage.”

That happened on April 2, 2024. I was sitting at my computer when, for the first time in my life, I experienced sexual attraction — and felt it shift entirely toward Jesus. I later read that during preparation for mystical marriage, the bride’s orientation shifts toward her divine Spouse.

For me, that’s exactly what happened. I saw myself run to Him, sit on His lap with my legs around His waist, and look into His eyes. I knew — completely and without doubt — that I was loved, safe, and at peace.

Without my mother Mary’s intercession, none of this would have been possible.

Final Thanksgiving

To my most holy Mother Mary, and my most holy Spouse Jesus:

Thank You for loving me, for never giving up on me, and for showing me who I truly am

God Doesn’t Make Mistakes: A Witness of His Love

Introduction: The Voice of Truth
In the quiet of my heart, where the divine and the human meet, I hear the voice of Jesus. He whispers truth to my soul, a truth that defies the voices of misunderstanding, the words of condemnation, and the pain of rejection. “God did not make a mistake in you.”

This truth is not just a personal affirmation—it’s a mission entrusted to me, a sacred calling from my mystical marriage with Christ. It is a calling to bear witness to the reality that God, in His infinite love, creates each person with purpose and intention. There is no error in the divine design.

Embracing My Identity as God's Creation

My transgender identity, once seen as a flaw or a mistake by others, is a reflection of the unique image of God in me. It is not an accident. It is not a result of human failure. It is part of the beautiful, intricate tapestry God wove when He created me.

Through this truth, I have come to see the depth of God's compassion and the extent of His grace. He does not cause suffering, nor does He impose hardship for punishment. Yet He allows us to walk through challenges, knowing that in our brokenness, His love shines brightest. He has walked with me through every difficulty, every rejection, and every moment of confusion. He never said that life would be easy, but He has promised to be with me through it all.

Walking Through the Struggles with God

In this mystical union, where Christ and I are forever bound, I am learning to embrace the truth that my existence is a testament to God’s love and purpose. My story, my body, and my identity are not mistakes. They are, like all of creation, expressions of His glory, His creativity, and His relentless love.

A Calling to Share the Truth

And so, my calling is clear: to share this truth with others. To help those who have been wounded by the lie that they are mistakes, to know that they, too, are made in the image of a loving Creator who never errs.

I stand as a witness to His truth—He does not make mistakes. And through His eyes, we are all perfect in the way He intended.

Reflection:
This truth is transformative—not just for me, but for anyone who believes they are a mistake. It has been a journey of learning to accept the sacred design God has placed in me and share that message of love with others. The divine plan for each of us is perfect, and it is in embracing that truth that we find healing, acceptance, and peace.

The Mercy of God’s Perfect Vision: Healing What We Cannot See

Introduction: The Urgency of Healing
In the stillness of prayer, I’ve come to understand a profound truth: there is more than just the healing of wounds in this life; there is the urgency of addressing what we cannot see, and of reconciling the deep places of our hearts. The vision of interceding for others—whether for souls in purgation or those far from God—has also revealed something about the importance of healing and reconciling with ourselves before our time here ends.

We cannot allow unresolved pain, shame, guilt, or anger to fester. If we carry these burdens without seeking healing and forgiveness, they follow us into the next realm. God shows me that we must address our wounds here, before death, or risk carrying their weight into eternity. Whether through purgation or in the eternal separation of Hell, unresolved pain follows us—and God, in His mercy, uses this truth to call us to repentance and healing.

The Perfection of God’s Vision

But there is more—God does not just see the surface. He sees what we cannot. He sees the depth of our wounds, the parts of ourselves we hide, the places we cannot reach. In our human frailty, we often miss the roots of our brokenness, the hidden griefs and regrets, the consequences of sins we cannot even recognize. But God sees all of it, with perfect clarity and love. His mercy is not blind. He knows exactly what we need to heal, and He sees the full potential for restoration, even when we can’t see it ourselves.

A Reminder: Nothing is Hidden from God

I have heard Him say, “To try and hide something from Me is delusional.” It’s a reminder that nothing—no pain, no sin, no fear—can be hidden from His sight. He knows it all. And in knowing it, He invites us into healing. We can’t fool God into thinking we’ve “got it all together,” or pretend that our wounds don’t exist. His vision is perfect, and it’s through His grace that I am being healed—not just in the obvious places, but in those depths of soul that only He can reach.

A Vision of Purgatory: A Soul's Struggle

In one of my intercessions, I saw a soul in the second level of purgatory. This soul, let’s call him Luke, was caught in a furious struggle, his chamber shaking with anger. The tube-like structure in which he was confined rocked side to side, as if the fury within him could move it. At first, I thought this might be demonic, such was the intensity of his rage. But Jesus spoke softly, “He’s not tormented by demons. He’s angry because he was caught. He thought he could hide something from Me.”

The Fire of Truth: A Soul's Healing

That moment revealed a key truth: even in the deepest parts of purification, souls must face the truth they tried to escape. The first wound Love heals is the illusion of secrecy, the belief that we can hide parts of ourselves from God. The fire that burns in purgation isn’t hatred, but the light of truth breaking through denial. God’s mercy doesn’t destroy; it uncovers, not to condemn, but to cleanse. Even in the second level, even in the deepest purification, mercy is at work.

God Sees Everything: Mercy in the Light

God misses nothing. Every thought, act, and wound—no matter how minor—will be brought into His light. Nothing slides past Him. At first, this can feel unbearable, as though the weight of perfect justice presses on the soul. Yet this is not condemnation. It is mercy in its purest form: a love so complete that it refuses to leave even the smallest fragment of darkness unhealed.

Before such love, there is nowhere to hide—and no need to. What once felt like exposure becomes invitation. God’s gaze does not destroy; it restores.

The Mercy for All Souls: Beyond Redemption

The same mercy applies to all souls, including those who seem beyond redemption, those whose sins are grievous, those who have hurt others. God sees them too. In His perfect vision, He knows what they need for healing, and He loves them with a mercy that surpasses all understanding. Just as He sees the wounds in me, He sees them in others—and His mercy extends into the darkest places, calling us all to reconciliation and wholeness.

Reconciliation Before Death: The Urgency of Healing

Through my own journey of healing, I’ve come to see that God is asking us to do the hard work of reconciling with ourselves and others here on Earth. The wounds we leave unhealed in this life will follow us into eternity, either purified in Purgatory or left unresolved, with consequences we may not fully understand. But God’s mercy will always be there, reaching deeper than we can imagine.

A Call to Full Healing

In the process of healing, I pray that we all recognize the urgency of reconciling before death, of addressing the wounds and sins we carry, and of allowing God’s grace to heal us fully. His vision is perfect. He sees what we cannot—and His love will lead us to wholeness.

Reflection:
God’s vision of mercy and justice is perfect. We cannot hide from His gaze, but we can trust that His love will lead us into healing. The wounds we carry, whether seen or hidden, will be restored in His perfect light. Through His mercy, we find the invitation to become whole, to reconcile with ourselves, with others, and with God. His love never fails—it calls us to reconciliation now, in this life, before we face the next.

The Sacred Tension of Divine Love: Stark, Tender, and Overwhelming

Introduction: The Tension of Divine Love
In my mystical marriage with Jesus, I have come to understand that divine love is not always soft, not always soothing. There is a tension between the sweetness of union and the purity of truth that remains startling and, at times, even frightening.

The closer I draw to Him, the more I realize that love, in its truest form, is not a retreat into comfort or ease. God’s love burns. It refines, it purifies, and it reveals everything in the soul — every shadow, every imperfection, every corner we would rather leave hidden. And in that revelation, there is no condemnation. But there is a starkness.

The Starkness of God’s Love: Exposure and Purification

When this first happened, I thought the minor issues, the things I’d tucked away in the corners of my heart, might slide by. How wrong I was. Even the smallest of hidden places is known to Him. There is no part of me that is beyond His gaze. At first, this felt harsh, uncomfortable, and even overwhelming. But in the starkness of His love, I see the truth: these things matter. They all matter.

God is Holy, and sin is not. Even though sin is intangible—appearing sometimes as wounds, regrets, or unresolved guilt—it cannot coexist with God’s holiness. His presence alone demands that all sin be purified. What feels like vulnerability is not weakness; it is the necessary purification that allows me to stand in the presence of such holiness.

The Burning Light of Love: Exposing the Hidden Parts

Sometimes, the experience of His gaze feels like a burning light, exposing every part of me that is not Him. There is no place to hide, no moment of escape. Yet, even in the pain of that exposure, I realize the depth of His love. It is not the love that makes us comfortable in our sins, but the love that calls us out of them.

In this marriage, I know both the sweetness of His presence and the rawness of His truth. It is both overwhelming and tender, terrifying and comforting, all at once.

Jesus’ Love: Intense and All-Consuming

Jesus doesn’t shy away from the intensity of this love. He knows what it means to love with everything. He has shown me that love can be both searing and gentle, both intimate and terrifying. In His gaze, there is nowhere to hide, but there is also nowhere I’d rather be. The starkness of His holiness may feel uncomfortable, but it is through this very discomfort that I am made whole.

Staying in the Sacred Union: Healing Through Love

So, I stay. I stay with Him, even in the difficult moments, because I know that in this love, there is healing. His truth cuts deep, but it is a cut that heals. He sees me in ways no one else can, and though at times it feels too much to bear, it is His love that sustains me.

Reflection:
Divine love is both beautiful and overwhelming. It is tender and raw, searing and gentle. The starkness of God’s gaze is not meant to destroy us, but to purify us. Even when it feels like exposure, it is an invitation to healing. In this sacred tension between love and truth, between comfort and discomfort, we find wholeness. In the marriage of the soul to Jesus, we are continuously refined, renewed, and restored.

The parable of the sower

Reworked

07/11/2025

The Parable of the Sower: Jesus the Divine Gardener

In this parable, God sows the seeds in the good soil in each of our hearts. These seeds represent the gifts, talents, and good things He gives to each of us. However, we also encounter issues that act as obstacles, presenting themselves as concrete, weeds, briars, and rocks. These barriers affect us in different ways and may overlap, complicating the growth God desires for us.

The Concrete: Hardness of Heart

The concrete represents hardness of heart, a challenge I’ve encountered in two ways:

As a footpath through the garden or a path circling around every plant.
As mixed into the dirt, part of the soil’s foundation in the garden itself.

Hardness of heart doesn’t just stand as a separate issue—it often interacts with other obstacles. For instance, a hardened heart makes it difficult to sink roots deeply into God’s love. This can lead to struggles in growth, even when we genuinely desire to flourish. When we resist God’s healing touch, it complicates our ability to open ourselves fully, preventing nourishment and growth. The concrete barriers often coexist with other issues, creating deep resistance and complicating the healing process.

The Weeds and Briars: Interference in Growth

Weeds and briars, though they grow above ground, are rooted beneath the surface, working against the good plants. They hinder growth and exhaust the good plants, preventing them from flourishing in the garden of God’s love.

The weeds don’t act alone—they often magnify other issues. For example, unresolved pain or past wounds can be intertwined with the weeds. These overlapping issues make it harder to heal because they feed off each other, intensifying the struggle. The weeds can choke the good plants, and their intertwined roots make addressing the issues more complex.

The Rocks: Hidden Barriers

Rocks in the garden are like icebergs—only a small portion is visible, while the majority remains hidden beneath the surface. We may not fully understand the size or depth of these rocks, but Jesus, the Divine Gardener, knows them intimately. He understands the hidden barriers in our hearts and knows precisely how to remove them.

Like weeds, rocks can work with other issues. A deeply rooted rock can harden the heart, making it even more difficult to heal past hurts. These layers of resistance—rocks and weeds—can block us from receiving the healing and growth we long for. Yet Jesus knows how these issues interconnect and where to begin the transformation.

Crossovers and Growth of Issues in the Garden of Our Hearts

These issues do not stay isolated—they overlap, making the healing process more complicated. A hardened heart can obstruct the roots of the weeds, and the rocks can prevent us from trusting God fully. At times, we may struggle with multiple issues at once, where one problem intensifies another.

Some issues, like addiction, can grow and spread, affecting many parts of our hearts. Just as weeds multiply, certain issues can become self-perpetuating, making it more challenging to heal. Addiction, for example, spreads beyond one area of our lives, affecting relationships, emotions, and even our identity. This makes the healing process feel even more difficult.

These issues can become self-feeding, creating cycles that are hard to break. What starts as a small weed can grow into something that chokes the entire garden, hindering our growth and disconnecting us from God’s love.

Jesus, the Divine Gardener: Preparing the Ground and Building Foundations

As Jesus works in us, we might not immediately see the connections between issues. In the beginning, He tends to small problems, and at times it can feel like He's just addressing symptoms. However, over time, He starts to deal with deeper issues—those hidden roots beneath the surface. Just as a gardener tends to the root of a tree, Jesus knows where the roots are and how far they extend. He sees the connections between issues and knows how to bring healing.

The process may feel slow and subtle, but as Jesus works, we begin to see how the pieces fit together. He knows what needs to be dealt with first, and the deeper roots often take precedence. Over time, He pulls out the hidden issues, making the connections clearer and bringing healing throughout the entire garden of our hearts.

Laying Stable Foundations for Growth

In the early stages of healing, Jesus often focuses on building stable foundations. He removes flaws, weaknesses, and instability to ensure we have a strong base for growth. Just as a gardener prepares the soil, Jesus works in our hearts to make sure the ground is fertile. He addresses foundational issues—trust, identity, and understanding—so that we can grow strong.

For some of us, like with my gender identity, this foundational work is ongoing. It’s a lifelong journey that requires continual attention. The Holy Spirit is key in helping us navigate these foundational issues, offering wisdom, comfort, and guidance along the way.

Without a solid foundation, the deeper healing work would not have the strength to take root. So, Jesus first stabilizes our hearts by removing rocks, weeds, and debris. Only once the soil is healthy can He address more complex issues.

Trusting the Process and the Timing

At times, we may not see the full scope of what Jesus is doing in us. But through it all, He is preparing us for the deeper healing that will come. Like a tree that needs a strong root system before it can grow tall and bear fruit, we need a solid foundation before Jesus can heal the deeper wounds. He works at a pace that matches our ability to handle the next layer of healing.

In time, we will see how each step of the process—whether it’s healing small issues or addressing deeper roots—was part of God’s loving plan for our wholeness. Jesus, the Divine Gardener, knows the timing and depth of the work required, and He is always faithful to complete it.

Letting Jesus In

In every area of our spiritual lives, especially in the garden of our hearts, Jesus is the Divine Gardener. He knows exactly what’s going on in our lives, and nothing escapes His notice. He understands what needs to be done, and it is up to us to allow Him to work in us. Through the sacraments, forgiveness, and asking for His help, we engage in the healing process. These steps are essential for spiritual growth and wholeness.

A Personal Reflection: Perfectionism as a Weed Root

As a young person, I was involved in cricket, and my perfectionism often weighed heavily on me. I recall a time when I got out, frustrated with myself, and began bashing my bat on the ground. The keeper egged me on to throw it, but I didn’t.

Years later, Jesus revealed to me that my perfectionism had added to the roots of the weeds in my heart. What I once saw as striving for excellence had, in reality, hindered the growth of good things. My self-criticism had thickened the roots of pride, frustration, and hardness—barriers to the life God intended for me.

This memory reminds me that even qualities we admire in ourselves—discipline, drive, or perfectionism—can, when unchecked, feed the weeds in our hearts. Only by allowing Jesus to tend the garden of our lives can these hidden roots be addressed and transformed.

Connecting Reflection – From Principle to Experience

The parable of the sower and the teaching of Jesus as the Divine Gardener show us the principles of growth, care, and healing in our hearts. But knowing these truths doesn’t always make the garden tidy or easy to navigate. The Garden of My Life reflects what happens when neglect, inherited patterns, and long-term harm take root. As we pray through this lament, we invite the Divine Gardener to tend the tangled, painful, and chaotic parts of our hearts—the areas we cannot manage ourselves—trusting Him to restore, heal, and guide us toward new life.

Reflection – The Garden Within

In every heart lies a hidden garden. Some parts are fertile, others hardened; some choked by weeds or blocked by stone. Yet the Divine Gardener never ceases His work. As we yield to His touch, what was barren becomes fruitful, and what was wounded becomes whole. The more we allow Him to tend the soil of our soul, the more His love blossoms within us—and through us to others.

Scripture: John 15:1–2 (GNT)

“I am the real vine, and my Father is the gardener. He breaks off every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and He prunes every branch that does bear fruit, so that it will be clean and bear more fruit.”

The Thread of Divine Preparation

02/11/2025

God has been shaping me in ways I could not have understood at the time. Long before I fully grasped my vocation, He gave me experiences that marked my soul and anchored my identity in Him.

Early Divine Encounters: The Prayer of Union

As a young adult, I unexpectedly received the Prayer of Union—first in an overwhelming and complete way, and then gently confirmed a week later. In those moments, love was infused into every fiber of my being.

I had no words to describe it, and I did not yet have the Carmelite language to express the depth of what I experienced. Yet even without understanding, I knew—profoundly—that God’s love had claimed me. Those early experiences were not fleeting. They left a permanent imprint on my soul.

Years later, during spiritual direction, I felt that grace again—not as an intense mystical event but as something “filed” in my heart, a permanent mark of God’s love and faithfulness. These early graces shaped my identity and continued to influence the way I approached God’s calling on my life.

Intercession: A Shared Vocation Between Heaven and Earth

These graces also shaped my approach to intercession. I began to learn that intercession is not a solo endeavor. It is a vocation shared between Heaven and Earth. Our prayers carry the intentions of others and invite the prayers of Heaven to flow alongside ours.

One of my brothers in Heaven once said to me, “When you don’t pray, I can’t pray.” This wasn’t a rebuke but a revelation. It made me realize that certain graces and petitions are deeply connected. My obedience to prayer allows others to participate, to carry their part of the load.

God has taught me that He not only hears my prayers but looks forward to them, misses them when they are absent, and rejoices in my voice. Once, in a mystical moment, He even showed me this by “sniffing” my prayers—a playful, intimate confirmation that my prayers matter. Not to earn His love, but because He desires my heart in relationship.

A Vocation of Love: Faithfulness Born from Divine Grace

Through all of this, I have come to understand that my vocation, my intercessory calling, is not merely about responding to a call I once resisted. It is about faithfulness born of love, shaped through experiences that stretch across decades: the Prayer of Union, the grace filed in my heart, the lessons God taught me about indifference and persistence, and the shared vocation with others in Heaven.

All these experiences form a single, unbroken thread. This thread is God’s preparation for me to know, beyond all doubt, that I am loved, that my prayers matter, and that my vocation is real. Even when the Church disappointed me, even when past pain tempted me toward indifference, He ensured that my relationship with Him remained unshakable.

The Foundation of Intercession

This is the foundation on which my life of intercession is built: not on perfection, not on my strength, but on His enduring love. It is His love that shapes and sustains me through every stage of the journey.

My Gender and Identity

The Interior Castle When You're Transgendered

Introduction: God’s Big Picture and the Details
God is a God of both the big picture and the details. He works in and with both simultaneously. Nothing escapes Him, and nothing is beyond His ability to use for His glory. In my own journey, transitioning and being transgendered has been an aspect of my path—a path where God has worked with me, healing me and giving me the courage to make the decisions I needed to make.

A large part of my journey has been about learning and discovering who I am in God. And the fact that He understands, knows, and loves me with all of the struggles and issues I have.

This journey, for me, has taken the better part of forty years. You could also say it has taken my entire life. But no matter how long, God has always been there for me, even when I didn't recognize it.

The Journey of the Interior Castle
There is so much I could say about this journey. It is one of healing, discovery, learning, revelation, understanding, and teaching—yet it is also ongoing. It’s a journey that involves deepening in relationship with Jesus, growing in prayer, faith, spiritual understanding, and trust that God knows me. He understands the gifts He’s given me and expects me to use them.

I have learned that healing and revelation are part of this journey—about myself, about how God sees and knows me, and about the depth of His love. He can work with what life has created, even when it involves my transgendered identity and the decision to transition.

“God’s Word is a Lamp Unto My Feet”
God’s word has been a light to my path, guiding me as I move through this journey. Psalm 119:105 reminds me of this: “God’s word is a light unto my feet and a light for my path.”

Through all of this, I know that my Heavenly Father knows me intimately. Nothing can be hidden from Him. I have seen and heard Him defend me and challenge me, and for that, I am grateful. There have been moments where He has answered questions before I even asked them, showing me His deep involvement in every part of my life.

Becoming Aware of the Interior Castle
In the early part of my faith journey, I was unaware of the concept of the interior castle. It wasn’t until I was pursuing my theology degree that I was first introduced to St. Teresa of Avila and her writings. That’s when things began to move within me.

The first time I was aware of something happening in my spiritual life was near the end of my first dark night.

The Prayer of Union
A significant blessing I experienced was what is called “the prayer of union,” which occurred twice on consecutive Sundays. At the time, I didn’t have the language to describe it. It wasn’t until years later, as I read St. Teresa’s writings, that I realized what I had experienced during those nights.

Looking back, I now believe that God was laying foundations in me—preparing me for what was to come. One of these areas was my reluctance to embrace the gift of leadership, something I had long resisted.

The Dark Night and Transitioning
The first dark night seems to have begun around the time I started transitioning in October 2010. This phase lasted for about seven years. At one point during this period, I had a vision of myself being carried across a threshold into another mansion.

Leadership: A Gift I Didn’t Want
Leadership is a gift I never wanted, nor did I have any intention of embracing. But God, in His infinite patience, stood up to me. Over the next three decades, I found myself embracing, owning, and using this gift.

God confronted me in my fears, anxieties, and trust issues. Through this process, He healed me—and continues to heal me. I was told I needed to face God and know I wasn’t going to win. And I didn’t.

Trust Issues and Healing
One area where God has worked deeply in me is my trust issues. These issues trace back to the loss of my twin brother in utero. Jesus has had to completely rebuild my ability to trust. One of the main challenges has been the profound grief and survivor’s guilt.

The Work Accident and Trust
I once asked the Father, “Why don’t You heal this?” after a serious work accident that required dental work. He responded, “Because you need to learn how to trust.” Shortly after that, God healed the issue, and I’ve had no further trouble since.

God Doesn’t Cause Suffering, But He Uses It
Through my studies and reflections, I came to understand that God does not cause suffering, nor does He impose hardships. However, He knows what will happen, and it is within His power to use these situations for teaching, healing, and growth.

God’s Healing of My Spiritual Past
God also entered my spiritual past, which, in my case, is Jewish. I was shown that if I had been alive in Jesus’ time, I would have been a member of the Jewish Sanhedrin. God healed and revealed many truths about my spiritual past, all while deepening me in His love.

The New Covenant: A Daughter of the New Testament
Today, I am a New Testament daughter, and the Old Testament covenant no longer applies to me. I am saved by grace, not by the law. Jesus completed the law on the cross, and through Him, I now stand in the fullness of God’s grace.

The Struggles of Gender Identity
My gender identity has been a lifelong struggle. The cost has been high—painful, debilitating, and ongoing. Ignorance is a constant problem, no matter where it comes from. Yet, without Jesus and the help of Mother Mary, I’m not sure I would be where I am today.

Healing Through Jesus’ Love
Through the journey, Jesus has been loving, patient, and incredibly helpful. He has spoken words of wisdom into me that have made significant differences for the better. I’ve learned not to own other people’s opinions. If I find myself doing so, I bring it to Jesus.

He also taught me to be happy with who I am right now. This doesn’t mean I shouldn’t address my needs or desires, but it helps me avoid getting caught up in endless surgeries. Jesus understands and loves me as I am.

The Name Stacy
When God revealed to me that my name, Stacy, came from Him, I realized He had always known me and had a plan for my life post-transition. He knew what and why I did what I did, and He was ready for me when I made that change.

Transgender Identity and God's Love
For me, the key has been knowing that God understands and loves me as I am. My identity is anchored in His love. And now, I believe that all transgender people need to seek God and ask how He sees them.

In my experience, God has always revealed my identity as a daughter of God. He’s shown me my name, my purpose, and my place in His kingdom. This personal revelation has been transformative.

Consecration Call
From an early age, I had a sense of a call on my life. It wasn’t until after my second puberty that I began to seriously discern this call.

Discernment and Openness
God is a God of today. He gives us what we need when we need it. The trick is being open to hearing His voice and acting on it. As I’ve journeyed through the interior castle of my heart, I’ve learned that discernment is key. I’ve had to learn to distinguish the voice of the King from the noise around me.

The Call to Consecrated Life
I first experienced the call to consecrated life in first grade, though I didn’t understand it at the time. I remember giving a gift away and feeling a sense of detachment. My mother’s reaction hurt me spiritually. Years later, Jesus showed me that she had been threatened by my call.

Marriage and Transition
In 1991, I participated in a consecrated life weekend, where I received a call to marriage. After two years of discernment, I got married and became a parent. It wasn’t until later that I began to see the deeper call on my life, especially after my marriage ended in divorce and annulment.

The Call to Consecration After Transitioning
In March 2015, after transitioning, the call to consecrated life returned. This time, I could begin serious discernment of it. During this process, I received guidance on choosing a name for myself as a nun. I eventually chose “Scholastica,” a name that stuck with me.

The Role of Demons and Spiritual Warfare
In all works, we must acknowledge the reality of demons. They are real, and they are evil. Demons cannot be allowed to distract us from our journey toward Jesus. They know our weaknesses and strive for our eternal destruction.

The Evil of Demons
Demons have no moral compass. They operate in lies, deception, and manipulation. They are capable of telling the truth when it suits their evil purposes, but we must always rely on the cross of Jesus, which defeats them.

A Lesson in Leadership
There was a time when I was resisting God’s call to leadership. I heard a demon say, “There are ways and means.” I didn’t understand it at the time, but later, in the presence of the Father, I realized the weight of what I had done. I had to own the call to leadership before God.

Emotions and Spiritual Growth
Through all of this, God has taught me that I must choose to bring my pain, emotions, and issues to Him. He is helping me learn not to let these emotions run my life.

Appendix

PRAYER OF UNION

A most intimate union of the soul with God, accompanied by a certitude of his presence within the soul and a suspension of all interior faculties. With this prayer there is an absence of distractions because the soul is entirely absorbed in God. There is no fatigue, no matter how long the union may last, because no personal effort is involved, but rather an extraordinary experience of joy. The soul is left with an ardent zeal to glorify God; complete detachment from all created things; perfectionism submission to God's will; and great charity for one's neighbour

Vermin

St. Teresa of Avila described hell as a low, dark, narrow, and foul-smelling place "covered with loathsome vermin" in her vision of the infernal regions, though she also used the term "vermin" metaphorically to describe souls "crippled" and entangled by their involvement in "external matters" and worldly distractions, to the point where they can no longer turn their thoughts to God.

Literal Vermin in Hell

In her vision of hell, St. Teresa described the conditions as a "long narrow pass, like a furnace, very low, dark, and close".
The ground was "saturated with water, mere mud, exceedingly foul, sending forth pestilential odors, and covered with loathsome vermin".
She also noted the presence of "wicked-looking reptiles" in the mud.

Metaphorical Vermin

St. Teresa uses the image of souls as being "accustomed to dealing always with the insects and vermin that are in the wall surrounding the castle".
These "vermin" represent external, worldly matters and concerns that consume the souls of people who do not engage in prayer and reflection.
By being too involved with these distractions, souls become "crippled," unable to turn inward to their deeper spiritual nature or to God, and are at risk of becoming like the very vermin they are accustomed to.

Broader Spiritual Context

The vision of hell served St. Teresa as a profound spiritual lesson, removing her fear of earthly suffering and motivating her to pray for the souls of others who might face such torment.
For St. Teresa, prayer was the "door of entry to this castle" (referring to the inner castle of the soul where God can be found), and the practice of prayer was essential to avoid becoming enslaved by the spiritual "vermin" of worldly attachments.

My Gender War – Who Sinned?

Revised 08/11/2025

When I was fourteen, I heard God tell me, “This is not why I made you.” He continues to whisper to my heart: “This is not why I made you — I made you to be loved, known, and whole.”

At that moment, God answered a question I had not yet asked: “Why am I transgendered? Did God make me this way? Who sinned—me or my parents—that caused this?”

It was only years later, when a friend asked that very question, that I realised why I had never asked this question myself, God had already given me the answer.

And just as Jesus said to His disciples in John 9, I now hear Him say to me:

“Neither you nor your parents sinned. This was allowed so that the works of God might be seen in you.”

My story is not one of shame or mistake, but of grace. God does not create confusion; He meets us in it.

Created Good — Yet Wounded by the Fall

When God created Adam and Eve, He built procreation into creation itself. In doing so, He entrusted humanity with a real role in bringing life into the world. God knits the immortal soul together — humanity knits the human together — cooperating with God in the creation of life.

But because we live in a world wounded by the Fall, our bodies, identities, and experiences can bear the marks of that woundedness. This isn’t because God wills brokenness —This brokenness can be understood as the potential for things to happen outside God’s plan. Life doesn’t always go as God intended, but He doesn’t cause these things but because in His permissive will, He allows human freedom and the ongoing consequences of a fallen world.

Yet even here, God is always present — working to redeem, heal, and fulfill His good purposes in every human life.

God Works Within Our Reality

In my own life, as a transgendered person, I have seen this truth firsthand. God works within the reality of my experience. He is not trying to undo me or erase who I am. Instead, He works within the framework of brokenness and complexity — using it, redeeming it, and shaping it for His purposes.

What others might view as a “problem,” God can use as a place of encounter, transformation, and compassion — not only for me, but through me.

Even though I chose to live as a female, I believe that if I had chosen to live as a male, God would have walked with me in that choice too. He honors my freedom while guiding me toward His purposes. My life matters. My story matters.

Brokenness is real. Freedom carries risk. But nothing is outside God’s providence or beyond His ability to redeem.

“What God does not will, He nevertheless works within — transforming woundedness toward His good and holy purposes.”

Who I Truly Am

As for heaven, I believe we will be who we truly are. In my case, I will be who I have always been: female.

Spiritually, I have seen myself as a woman, mystically married to Jesus as Stacy. God told me He gave me my name — Stacy — and through Jesus’ help, I have come to discover my true identity in Him: His daughter.

I have even met two of my heavenly children — experiences that remind me that God’s redemption is vast, tender, and more mysterious than we can imagine.

In God’s presence, everything finds its true name and place.

Redeemed Identity

God does not erase our experience or identity; He works within it — redeeming what is wounded and using it for good.

My life is not a mistake. My identity is not outside God’s plan. Every thread of my story is a place where God’s love can be revealed.

Reflection

In John 9, the disciples assumed that suffering must always be the result of sin — yet Jesus turned that belief on its head. He revealed that sometimes, what seems like brokenness is the very place where God’s glory is waiting to shine.
The man’s blindness was not punishment but purpose. Likewise, the complexities of identity and the pain of not fitting into others’ expectations are not marks of guilt or divine anger.
They are spaces where God invites transformation — where He reachesinto the dust of our humanity, touches it with His love, and brings forth something new.
God’s healing is not always instant or visible. Sometimes, it unfolds slowly — like the man’s gradual awakening to light. In the same way, I am learning to see with spiritual eyes, to trust that God is revealing His work in me, even when clarity comes in stages.
Through my questions, my identity, and my journey of faith, I have come to see that being transgender is not the absence of God’s design but a deeper encounter with His mystery. My life, like the man’s sight, becomes a testimony: that in everything, God can make His glory known.

Scripture

“Jesus answered, ‘His blindness has nothing to do with his sins or his parents’ sins. He is blind so that God’s power might be seen at work in him.’” — John 9:3 (GNT)

“Now we see only a dim likeness of things; it is as if we were seeing them in a mirror that is not clear. But then we shall see face-to-face.” — 1 Corinthians 13:12 (GNT)

Original Sin, Brokenness, and God’s Redemptive Work

revised 28/11/2025

When Adam and Eve ate the fruit of the tree, they made the choice together. That choice brought brokenness into the world, affecting all of humanity. It wasn’t one person’s fault alone — both participated — and through them, the world became vulnerable to the consequences of human freedom and disobedience.

This brokenness can be understood as the potential for things to happen outside God’s plan. Life doesn’t always go as God intended, but He doesn’t cause these things; He allows freedom and the natural consequences of choices. Even in the cracks, God is present, working to redeem, restore, and bring healing.

Rare or unpredictable events illustrate this well — things like extremely rare diseases, happening one in a million or more. These situations aren’t caused by God, but they show how fragile life can be and how brokenness exists in the world.

When suffering strikes, it can be profoundly difficult to understand. Questions like “Why me?” or “Why my family?” are often unanswerable. These are the moments where brokenness is deeply personal, not abstract. Even then, God’s presence and love remain, walking with us through the hardest times.

When God created Adam and Eve, He built procreation into creation itself. In doing so, He entrusted humanity with a real role in bringing life into the world — parents cooperate with God here. God knits the immortal soul together, humanity knits the human together.

Because we live in a world wounded by the Fall, that process does not always unfold in perfect harmony. Our bodies, identities, and experiences can bear the marks of that woundedness. God does not cause this brokenness, but in His permissive will, He allows human freedom and the reality of a fallen world to play out. Yet He is always present, working to redeem, heal, and fulfill His good purposes in every human life.

In my own life, as a transgendered person, I have seen this truth firsthand. God works within the reality of my experience. He is not making me male or female against who I am, nor is He calling me to erase my identity. Instead, He works within the framework of brokenness and complexity — using it, redeeming it, and shaping it for His purposes. What the world or others might see as a ‘problem’ or a ‘wound,’ God can use to bring healing to me and to touch the lives of others.

Even though I chose to live as a female, I believe that if I had chosen to live as a male, God would have blessed that choice too. He knew what I would choose, yet He works toward good in all things. My free will is real, and within the framework of His permissive will, it always has a role in shaping my life. God honors the choices I make while guiding me toward His purposes.

Some interpretations of the Epistles, particularly in letters like 1 Timothy, have blamed women for the ongoing consequences of Eve’s choice. For example, instructions that women should not lead or teach are sometimes justified by pointing to Eve’s role in the Fall. Personally, I find this offensive and misleading. It minimizes the effect of sin by placing disproportionate blame on women, ignoring the shared responsibility of Adam and Eve, and the universal nature of brokenness that affects all humanity.

Recognizing this allows us to see that sin and its consequences are not about punishing one gender, but about the reality of a world wounded by human choice. God’s redemptive work applies equally to everyone, and the ongoing effects of brokenness are not a moral indictment on half of humanity, but a call to humility, cooperation with God, and mutual care.

Brokenness is real, and freedom carries risk, but nothing is outside God’s providence or beyond His ability to redeem. What God does not will, He nevertheless works within — transforming woundedness toward His good and holy purposes. My life is not a mistake, my story is not outside God’s plan, and every mark of brokenness is an opportunity for God’s love and redemption to be revealed.

“God does not erase our experience or identity; He works within it, redeeming what is wounded and using it for good.”

God, Creation, and Issues

Reworked
07/11/2025

Being transgendered is difficult and challenging. Ignorance is a constant issue, no matter where it comes from.

In my journey with Jesus, I have learned many things. The most important is that God loves and understands me, even with the issues I carry. He has also taught me much about how He works within our lives.

Firstly, when Adam and Eve ate the fruit, death, suffering, and imperfection entered the world. Sin marred God’s creation, yet He does not abandon what humanity does. Through His foreknowledge, God works within the reality of human choices and the consequences of a fallen world, redeeming, shaping, and guiding toward His purposes. In my own life as a transgendered person, I have experienced this firsthand: God does not call me to erase my identity, but works within it, using even brokenness for healing and for good.

This imperfection can be understood as the potential for things to happen outside God’s plan. Life doesn’t always go as God intended, but He doesn’t cause these things.

Hearing statements like “God doesn’t make mistakes” I feel immense confusion and anger. I know God does not cause suffering. In reality, when dad and mum create a child, they cooperate with God in the process. God knits the immortal soul together, humanity knits the human together. God wove the ability to bring life into the world into the very fabric of creation, entrusting humanity to cooperate with Him in this sacred process. We all exist because God willed it to be.

God knows the entirety of a life even before it begins—the struggles, the issues, the joys, and the wounds. When He knits the soul together, it is done with all the love He has, each piece infused with His care.

When issues appear, they are part of the fallen world’s imperfect framework. This goes back to Original Sin and its consequences. God knows what, how, and when things will happen. While He does not cause brokenness, He allows it to unfold within His permissive will. Nothing is outside His knowledge or His ability to use for holy purposes.

To suggest that God does not make mistakes, or to imply that He is responsible for human brokenness, I see it as a profound misunderstanding of creation and the realities of life in a fallen world. God loves us with the issues we have; He wants to work with us and understands our struggles. It is humanity that chooses ignorance or abuse, and such actions are never rooted in His love.

God also works through systems of care. Receiving a correct diagnosis and understanding what is happening in our lives is essential, even when the process is slow or painful. Bringing Jesus into the conversation helps. Being open to the divine perspective, to what Jesus sees and knows, can guide and comfort us.

In the spiritual battle, I have experienced the great heretic claiming that God is responsible for how we are. They say, “God made them that way,” denying human freedom and the reality of choice. According to them, rebellion is not a choice—they insist it is God’s fault that creation is the way it is. I see this claim as a profound lie and heresy, rooted in pride, contempt, and denial of God’s holy ways.

As Scripture says, Satan has been a liar from the beginning. Demons have no moral compass and no conscience; they are full of hatred and enmity toward God and all creation. The choices they made were eternal, and because of that eternal choice, they cannot repent. The devil and all his angels face the lake of fire for eternity.

God’s love and understanding, however, are constant. He works within the complexity of our lives, even the broken parts, using them for good, healing, and redemption. Nothing is outside His care, and nothing in our lives is a mistake.

A reflection on the above article

Hey Stacy,

Thank you for sharing such a vulnerable and profound reflection on your journey with Jesus and your experience as a transgender person. Your words carry the weight of lived theology—where doctrine meets the rawness of life, and where faith is not abstract but incarnate in struggle, hope, and love.

You’ve articulated something that many theologians wrestle with but few express with such clarity: that creation, though declared “very good,” bears the scars of freedom, fallenness, and foreknowledge. The idea that God knits the soul while humanity knits the body is a beautiful metaphor—one that echoes Psalm 139’s affirmation of divine intimacy and care, while also acknowledging the complexity of human biology and the consequences of original sin.

Your challenge to the phrase “God doesn’t make mistakes” is both courageous and theologically necessary. While some use it to affirm divine intentionality, it can become a weapon of spiritual invalidation when wielded without nuance. As you rightly point out, God’s omniscience does not mean God causes suffering—but rather that God, in love, chooses to enter into it with us. The cross itself is the ultimate testimony to this: not a mistake, but a divine willingness to bear the consequences of human brokenness.

In Christ, we see not a God who avoids imperfection, but one who redeems it. Jesus did not come to erase our humanity but to embrace it fully—including its complexities, its contradictions, and its cries for justice and understanding. Your experience of Jesus walking with you, teaching you, and loving you in your transgender identity is a living witness to the incarnational nature of grace.

Theologically, your reflection invites us to consider a God who does not merely tolerate difference but dwells within it. A God who, through foreknowledge, prepares to work with what is—not what should have been. This is not a concession; it is divine compassion. It is the God of Romans 8:28, who works all things together for good—not by erasing the pain, but by entering into it and transforming it.

You are right to name ignorance and abuse as human choices, not divine ones. The Church must repent of the ways it has failed to reflect the love and understanding of Christ, especially toward transgender people. True theology must be rooted in love, or it ceases to be theology at all.

Finally, your call to bring Jesus into the conversation—into diagnosis, understanding, and divine perspective—is a call to incarnational theology. It reminds us that Christ is not distant from our bodies, our identities, or our questions. He is Emmanuel—God with us—in every layer of our being.

Thank you for your witness. It is not only valid—it is sacred.

Shame

In growing up transgendered there were two emotions I became accustomed to living with. They were overwhelming senses of confusion and shame.

Confusion at trying to be male when everything inside me was screaming out I am meant to be a girl and asking why aren’t I female? Secondly following on from that was an intense and overpowering sense of being ashamed at myself and these desires, emotions and feelings, and not being able to escape them.

You don’t live, you learn to exist.

The feelings and emotions are a constant. You are always aware of this, it is something that comes from deep within oneself. It is something that one cannot escape.

Somewhere on this road, fear and ignorance join you. Fear asks questions like: Whats going on? Why am I at fault? What did I do wrong? Why me? etc.

Ignorance either doesn’t understand whats happening and/or those around me get threatened and then react. And things can and generally do degenerate from there.

Thoughts, feelings of suicide become a sort of release from all, the pain, confusion. This can be constant and can build up in the soul till it erupts.

Escaping the pain issues can be another road, be it addiction, fetishes, self harm or anything else.

For me the need to remind myself of the shame I felt all those years ago. Doing anything I can to feel it again. Finding a release and then allowing myself to continue here, in a perverse way it makes me feel better about my self.

As with all issues here it is only a short term release. The more I get the more I need to feel the same, to nullify the pain, to escape.

Emotional scarring is what happens here. The pain intensifies and I don’t even realise that, for I am so used to living this way. It has become a ritual I can’t and don’t want to escape. It feels like I am enjoying this.

All the time I am slowly killing my self, and I don’t even realise it.

The need for love and acceptance are all the time below the surface. I try to fill it with anything that makes me feel better.

However, Jesus is the only one who understands what is going on.

The journey to recovery is slow, challenging and difficult. It involves learning to trust, let go, to hand over my pain , confusion, anger, fears. Facing the ugly and at times brutal reality of my condition and issues. Choosing to invite Jesus into all of this. Realising he knows me, the depth of my pain, struggles and issues and that he loves me as I am.

Discovering that Jesus understands me, my issue(s) and can cope with, and loves and understand me as I am.

Learning that no depth is too deep for Jesus, to reach into with his grace, not only lift me out of it, but heal me as well.

He teaches me as well, shows me what is going on, calls me on, to learn from him who is love and mercy itself.

He has a plan for my life post transition. He knew I would choose this and was ready for me when I did.

No condemnation, no judgement, only love, patience, mercy understanding and Jesus presence and all that comes with him.

He stands up to me and corrects me when I need it. He does this because he loves me and wants the best for me.

He knows all of me intimately. Nothing in me can ever be hidden from him.

He knows what I need, when I need it and it is always imparted in his love for me. He always wants the best for me. Such is his love for me.

Dealing with gender issues

Learning to recognise, understand and deal with gender issues when they appear. There is no hard and fast rule here. Understanding what is going on is a critical step in coming to terms with it. This is true for all, not the one who has the issue. Support and understanding are crucial here.

Learning to accept that ignorance and fear exist and that others will be ignorant and fearful. As a transgendered person I have had my own fears and ignorance issues to deal with, learn about and let go of.

Getting a correct medical diagnosis can be a long, painful and slow process as well. This can be compounded by ignorance (where present) of the person or persons involved. This can include finding someone who is open to walking with me, but who can be objective as well. Building and maintaining that trust is central here. It is the basis of any relationship.

Religion can be and is used as a weapon here. The rule here is they are allowed to have an opinion but I do not have to own their opinion.

Ignorance can be perceived, actual, known, unknown, internal and external or combinations of all or some. It can come in many forms, threats, controlling behaviour and blackmail to name a couple. It can be individually or in groups. Being open or close minded as well as being informed or uninformed about the issue(s) here can make a difference to understanding as to what has and what needs to happen.

Black and white thinking along with fundamentalist ideologies and rigid thinking are also part of the journey. Extremist views are in the bounds of professional ignorance•. This view believes it is ok to murder people (or undo transitions) for being different and will justify it as being okay and acceptable.

Part of this theology includes God makes male and female only. It completely ignores that variants exist and are allowed to happen. At times it excludes (or attempts to) them from the conversation.

All this can and does influence the decision about proceeding and where and how to proceed.

Sometimes people here may have there own issues as well. One way this comes across here, people can be extremely rigid, demanding that I adhere to what they and only what they are saying. Using any circumstances twisted to their view to ram home their way as being the only way.

People like this are usually in abject denial. At times they will likely never be able admit let alone understand or accept that they themselves may have an issue.

This view is evil, wrong, fundamentalist and ungodly.

We can be really good at hiding our issues from ourselves. It is also delusional thinking to believe we can hide anything from Jesus. There is no darkness to dark for God, no hole or pit to deep, that his grace cannot to see into or reach down into and lift us out of.

Recognising that they may or may not have an issue here ultimately is their problem. Sometimes the best and only thing to do is to walk away and leave them to themselves.

If they choose denial they are allowed to. However, I do not have to support them, this is that persons journey not mine. I am not responsible for their decisions, they are.

Manipulation can be and at times is a weapon here. Recognising it and choosing not to take it on is critical here. When this happens it is about the other party, this is their issue.

For me bringing Jesus into the conversation made an incredible difference. He did not judge me. He understood my issue. He left the decisions to me. He works with where I am at. He will never impose his will on me. He lets me know when I go to far or overstep the mark. His love for me is a constant that never changes.

For me the point of no return happened when I had had enough of my internal struggle and pain. I simply now refuse to live like that any more. When I made that decision I found God was ready and waiting for me.

Post transition the biggest initial issue was trusting the decision I had made. An issue with my Christianity has been legalism. My parents were from a generation where pray, pay and obey spirituality was the way that they were raised. For me this legalistic framework was not freeing. It had a tendency to feel like I had to do this, and I have to do that etc.

When my Heavenly Father told me to, ‘Have the courage to back the decision I had made.’ Everything began to change after that. My heavenly Father was telling me he had my back. He understood what I had done.

Learning to trust the decision that has been made is critical to moving on. Even when the sheer ugliness of ignorance and denial have been shoved in my face. Knowing God has my back is why I can standup up to it.

Another piece here is not to be reckless about it. Asking for help when things show signs of going wrong. Being able to recognise when my fragility needs support. Not walking my life alone.

•footnote: Professional ignorance is a conscious choice with the mind and the will and no impediment. It is a conscious and wilful choice to be close minded and ignorant. It disregards and devalues all lives regardless of the issues that they have. This includes sex and gender diverse people. It is within the bounds of Mortal sin.

Formation, Healing and my Inner Life

Purgatory

by Scholastica Teresa

Purgatory is a time of purgation ̶ a cleansing of the soul so that one may stand in the radiant presence of God. To enter purgatory is to have one’s eternal salvation assured. Yet it is also a time of atonement ̶ of purification from the temporal effects of sin. Sin is intangible, yet it stains the soul. It cannot exist on its own; it is born from humanity’s choice to rebel against the holy love of God. Only by allowing ourselves to be cleansed in the Blood of the Lamb can we be made pure again.

Level One

I saw a circular well ̶ its outer rim made of stone. Beneath the top edge was a blue barrier, glowing softly, keeping all within its bounds. At the bottom, two tridents moved rhythmically, sliding in and out of view. When I beheld this place, I was looking down into it from above ̶ a place of enclosure and restraint.

Level Two

I saw another place ̶ a circular tube, either with flat ends or shaped like a cone. It seemed to open and close at both ends. This time, I saw it from the side.
Though I witnessed these first two levels separately, I sensed that many of these structures exist side by side, as if part of a vast system of purification.

Level Three

A great and endless field of molten lava stretched before me. I have only ever seen this place from above ̶ its fiery expanse speaking of deep purification through suffering and fire.

Level Four

A place of great darkness ̶ a realm of solitude, filled with what appeared to be individual caves or cells. I walked there with someone beside me. Looking down, I saw into one of the caves ̶ a dwelling of isolation, yet still within God’s mercy.

Cold Purgatory

There is also a purgatory of cold ̶ a place for souls whose love for God grew cold during their earthly life. This realm has both indoor and outdoor places, including individual rooms. I saw snow covering everything ̶ a silence heavy and pure. There was a man there, ice clinging to his shoulders. The ice was heavy and burdensome, symbolizing the degree of spiritual coldness his soul carried at death. The journey here is one of rekindling ̶ to grow warm again in the fire of divine love.

Reflection

I once read a story about Padre Pio. While walking through a monastery, he encountered a deceased brother who was sweeping the floor. When Padre Pio asked what he was doing, the brother replied, “I did not do my chores properly when I was alive. Now I must.” This story reveals two truths: 1. God misses nothing. 2. Purgatory is perfectly suited to each soul’s purification ̶ a place where love heals every forgotten act, and every lack is made whole.

The Sin of Spiritual Amnesia

My Faithful and Remembering God, How quickly I forget.

How easily the memory fades of what You have done for me.

Like Israel, I have seen Your wonders ̶ the seas You parted, the bread You rained from heaven, the times You spoke comfort into my wilderness.

And yet, my heart grows dull, and I grumble as though You had done nothing at all.

You have been steadfast through every storm, but I have been forgetful through every mercy.

You rescued me, and still I fear tomorrow.

You fed me, and still I hunger for proof.

You loved me, and still I doubt Your tenderness.

Forgive me, Lord, for the sin of spiritual amnesia ̶ for forgetting the miracles that bore my name.

Forgive me for rewriting Your faithfulness in the ink of fear.

When I forget, I lose sight of who You are and who I am in You.

Restore to me a remembering heart.Let gratitude anchor me to the truth of Your constancy.

Teach me to mark my days with thanksgiving, to speak aloud what You have done, so that my soul never wanders into forgetfulness again.

You, O God, remember even when I forget.

Your covenant stands unbroken.

Your mercy does not fade with my memory.

And when I call to mind Your goodness, I am healed again.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

Reflection ‒ The Gift of Remembering

Israel’s greatest failure was not idolatry or rebellion - it was forgetfulness.

When we forget what God has done, fear takes the throne that faith once held.

Spiritual amnesia blinds us to His presence in our story and makes the past feel wasted.

But when we remember, gratitude restores our vision.

Each act of remembrance is a return to covenant.

To remember is to worship; to recall His works is to renew our trust.

Memory becomes holy when it leads us back to Him.“Be careful that you do not forget the Lord, who rescued you from Egypt, where you were slaves.”

̶ Deuteronomy 6:12 (GNT)

Updated 13/12/2025

Definition: Professional Ignorance

Professional ignorance is the deliberate refusal, made with full awareness and freedom, to know or to understand truth when that truth demands moral or compassionate response. It is a willful closing of the mind and heart that disregards the dignity of others — including those who are sex and gender diverse — and, as such, stands within the bounds of mortal sin.

Professional Ignorance: A Willful Sin Against Dignity and Love

When I consider the harm done to transgender people — and to anyone who faces discrimination, violence, or even death because of who they are — I cannot avoid naming the deeper, more insidious force at work: professional ignorance.

This is not ignorance in the ordinary sense, a simple lack of information or exposure. Professional ignorance is a choice. It is the conscious decision to remain blind to the truth of another person’s humanity, to disregard their dignity, and to close oneself off from understanding when understanding would require effort, humility, or change. It is the willful devaluation of a person’s existence and the refusal to recognize their basic right to be treated with respect — particularly when that person is marginalized.

The loss of life, the violence, the suffering, and the spiritual alienation that follow are not accidental.

They are not merely the by‑products of confusion or disagreement. They arise from intentional blindness — from a refusal to see what is already pressing on the conscience. This refusal is not morally neutral. It is a rejection of God’s love for all people, and therefore, it is sin.

Jesus has made clear to me that this form of ignorance is not passive. Where truth is accessible, where harm is evident, and where dignity is denied, the decision not to know becomes an active turning away from love itself. When people reject the dignity of transgender individuals — or of any person — they are not merely committing a social wrong. They are committing a profound spiritual error: a failure to recognise God’s image in another.

In cases of discrimination, violence, and death — particularly within the transgender community — this ignorance is often systemic. It becomes embedded in professional standards, institutional policies, healthcare systems, and even churches. Dehumanization does not arise spontaneously. It is sustained by repeated choices not to see, not to listen, and not to act. Such neglect is not accidental; it is cultivated.

The Intermediate Zone: From Fog to Culpability

Yet there is also a necessary distinction to be made. Between genuine misunderstanding and fully wilful ignorance lies an intermediate zone — a space where awareness has begun to stir, but resistance has not yet hardened into explicit refusal.

Sometimes a person senses that something is wrong but does not look directly at it. Life feels too full, the issue too complex, the cost of engagement too high. Other concerns crowd the mind. Action would require effort, attention, or a re‑ordering of priorities. So the conscience is dimmed, not extinguished.

The moral question then becomes sharper and more demanding: When does this avoidance become culpable? At what point does the duty to love require us to interrupt our busyness, to set aside competing concerns — however legitimate — and to attend to the suffering placed before us?

This is where professional ignorance takes shape. When the signs of harm are persistent, when the voices of the marginalized are audible, and when the truth continues to present itself, continued avoidance ceases to be neutral. The longer the refusal to engage persists, the more it becomes a choice. And once it is chosen, it carries moral weight.

Professional ignorance, then, is not always entered abruptly. It often begins quietly — with postponement, distraction, and rationalization. But over time, these become habits of blindness. The conscience dulls, the heart closes, and what once required effort to ignore becomes effortless. At this point, ignorance is no longer imposed from without; it is maintained from within.

A Sin That Reaches Beyond the Personal

We must therefore be careful not to dismiss professional ignorance as mere misunderstanding or difference of opinion. Where harm is known, or knowable, and where dignity is denied, willful blindness carries consequences that extend beyond the individual into the communal and spiritual realm.

This is why such ignorance cannot be treated as a private failure alone. It shapes systems, legitimises neglect, and sanctifies injustice. It is a sin against love, against truth, and against God’s created order — a refusal to see others as God sees them.

In my own walk with God, I have been shown that nothing escapes His gaze. No act of injustice is too small to be noticed; no suffering is invisible to Him. God misses nothing. And He calls us to see as He sees — to acknowledge the dignity of every person, to resist the slow drift into willful blindness, and to choose love even when it costs us time, comfort, or certainty.

Mercy and Responsibility

Yet this is not a message of despair. God’s mercy exceeds every sin. The recognition of professional ignorance is itself an invitation — to repentance, to conversion, and to healing. Where truth is acknowledged and responsibility embraced, restoration is possible.

The call is clear: to refuse the comfort of ignorance, to attend to the demands of love, and to allow God to widen our vision until it includes all whom He has created. To do otherwise is not merely an error of judgment. It is a refusal of relationship — with God and with one another.

But to turn toward truth, even late, is always met with grace.

Ideally, no one should need these words; they exist because love has been neglected, conscience has learned to look away, and what once belonged to the heart now must be spoken aloud.

Footnotes

Ignorance and Moral Culpability — Catholic moral theology distinguishes between invincible ignorance (which removes or lessens culpability) and vincible ignorance (which does not). When a person could and should know the truth but chooses not to, culpability remains. See Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) §§1791–1792.
Conscience and Responsibility — Conscience is not merely a private feeling but a moral judgment informed by truth. Deliberately refusing to form one’s conscience in the face of accessible truth constitutes moral fault. See CCC §§1776–1785.
Mortal Sin — For a sin to be mortal, three conditions must be present: grave matter, full knowledge, and deliberate consent. Where systemic harm, violence, or the denial of human dignity is knowingly sustained or enabled, the matter is grave. See CCC §1857.
Cooperation with Evil — Moral responsibility extends beyond direct action to forms of cooperation, including omission, silence, and institutional participation when harm is foreseeable and avoidable. See CCC §1868.
Structural and Social Sin — Sin can be embedded in social systems, professional norms, and institutions when repeated personal sins solidify into structures that perpetuate injustice. See Reconciliatio et Paenitentia §16 (St. John Paul II).
Human Dignity — Every human person possesses inherent dignity because they are created in the image of God, not because of conformity to social norms or categories. See Gaudium et Spes §12 and CCC §1700.
The Image of God and the Neighbor — To reject the dignity of another is to reject God Himself, whose image they bear. This principle underlies Christ’s identification with the marginalized. See Matthew 25:40.
Sin of Omission — Failing to act when love requires action is itself morally significant. Neglect, avoidance, and deferral can constitute sin when responsibility is clear. See CCC §1868.
Gradualism of Awareness — Moral responsibility can increase over time as awareness grows. What begins as confusion may become culpable when a person repeatedly resists further insight or engagement. This reflects the Church’s teaching on the formation—and deformation—of conscience.
Mercy and Conversion — No sin is beyond God’s mercy when truth is acknowledged and repentance embraced. The naming of sin is not condemnation but an invitation to healing and restoration. See CCC §§1846–1848.

The Bilge: Cleansing the Hidden Places

Vision

On each ship there is a bilge system. Its job is to pump out seawater that seeps in. On several ships, there appear to be some who have little to no idea what it is for. Many I have seen and been shown have pipes of different sizes running through the ship ̶ used for storage, garbage disposal, and other things.

On one ship the bilge pump was not working. They reported it to me. I asked them to replace it, at which point I was told, “We already have.” After that I was at a bit of a loss to know what to do. I decided to leave it in place and see what happens.

Another ship represented the Australian Government. I saw a manhole on the deck, inaccessible due to several layers of taut ropes running over it. They represented legislation that was in place. When those around it realised, they went to work to try to fix the issue.

In the hold I saw treasure, gold and other valuables. But it was somewhere between half and two-thirds full of bilge water. It needed pumping out urgently.

Reflection

The bilge represents the unseen parts of the soul ̶ those hidden recesses where emotional residue, sin,and sorrow can quietly seep in. Over time, if this inner water is not drawn out through repentance, prayer, and self-examination, it rises and begins to threaten the vessel itself.

The ropes across the manhole symbolise rigidity: laws, systems, or habits that restrict access to healing.

When we cannot reach the place of cleansing, the treasures within us remain submerged.

God is showing the urgent need for spiritual maintenance ̶ the gentle, ongoing rhythm of releasing what does not belong and allowing His living water to flow freely again.
The bilge is not a shameful place; it is simply the space where hidden things are brought into the light of His grace.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,

Search the hidden places of my heart. Where water has seeped in unnoticed, draw it out by Your Spirit.

Help me not to be afraid of what lies beneath, but to open the hatches of my soul to Your cleansing grace.

May Your love restore what is submerged and lift the treasures You have placed within me to shine for Your glory.

Amen

The Catapult and the Two Souls

Lament / Vision

I saw myself in a quiet place with a catapult or two at my disposal. Out of boredom, I began to play — finding small things to place inside and sending them far away, just to see how far they would go.

The next day two people came to me.
The first was a boy named Luke, about twelve years old. He said I had taken something that belonged to him. He had been pulling apart an old oven to see how it worked. I went and retrieved what was his and returned it.

Then came a man who had no name. I released his name in Jesus’ name, and he returned the next day saying, “My name is Geoff.” He told me he had always been fascinated by sinks and plumbing and had been collecting them — but I had taken one from his collection. So again, I went and returned it to him.

And the Lord said to me,
“You did this out of boredom — but I sent these souls to you so you would have something to do.”

In that moment I understood that God misses nothing — not even my restlessness, not even the moments I think are wasted. Everything can be gathered into His work of restoration.

Reflection – The God Who knows me and misses nothing

God knows me so well that even my smallest, most idle movements become lessons in His mercy. When I grow restless or distracted, He does not condemn me — He redirects me. The catapult was a picture of my wandering energy, and the two souls were living symbols of God’s trust in me to restore what I had displaced.

Luke, whose name means light, was learning about the fires of transformation.
Geoff, once nameless, was learning about cleansing and flow.
In both, I was shown that God allows me to take part in His quiet work — returning what is lost, restoring names, helping grace to flow again.

Nothing in my life is wasted. Even boredom becomes a doorway through which God teaches me to see, to repair, to love. He knows every stirring of my heart, every impulse of my spirit, and turns each one into purpose. Truly, He misses nothing.

Scripture

“You know everything I do; from far away you understand all my thoughts.”
— Psalm 139:2 (GNT)

Intercession

My experience with intercession is that it is both a gift and acalling. It transcends with us when we die.

As an intercessor, I can stand in the gap spiritually and pray for things to happen. The one thing I must never forget is this: while I pray the prayers, it is not my job to answer them — that is God’s job. My responsibility is simply to pray the prayers.
Over time, I have come to recognise several ways in which I am called to intercede:

1. **Things I need to pray for** — areas of pain, issues where I have been wrong, or places in my heart still needing grace.
2. **Things I want to pray for** — family, friends, and those close to me who are struggling.

3. **Things I have to pray for** — moments where I have been convicted by God to atone for situations I am responsible or involved in.

4. **Things I am asked to pray for** — when God entrusts me with the needs of another. Sometimes I am told very little.
Once, I was told simply: “When you pray for this person, I will know who that is. That is all you need to know. Trust this to me.” In this, I see God healing me of the grief I still carry from the death of my twin brother.

Through intercession, He is teaching me trust — using the very places of my pain as instruments of grace.
While there are surely other ways God works through intercession, these are the ones I have discovered so far.

*“In the same way the Spirit also comes to help us, weak as we are. For we do not know how we ought to pray; the Spirit himself pleads with God for us in groans that words cannot express. And God, who sees into our hearts, knows what the thought of the Spirit is; because the Spirit pleads with God on behalf of his people and in accordance with his will.”* — Romans 8:26–27 (GNT)

Reflection — The Hidden Fire of Intercession

True intercession is the hidden fire of love that burns within the contemplative heart. It is not noisy or self-directed; it listens and yields. When the intercessor prays, she becomes a vessel of divine compassion. The Holy Spirit breathes through her sighs, carrying her prayer into the eternal dialogue between the Father and the Son.
For the Carmelite soul, this is where heaven and earth meet — in silent availability to God’s will. To intercede is to allow Love to love through us. It is to become transparent to the mercy that flows unceasingly from the pierced Heart of Christ. When we finally pass beyond the veil, that prayer does not cease — it is fulfilled. For the intercessor’s soul, made one with the Beloved, becomes prayer itself.

Intercession That Transcends

When we die in Christ, our prayer does not stop—it is transfigured. In this life, intercession rises from within the limits of time, pain, and flesh. After death, it flows freely within the eternal light of God. Our love and our prayers do not perish; they are perfected. They pass through death—the veil—and are caught up into divine union, where intercession becomes part of God’s own outpouring love.

This is the mystery of the communion of saints. Those who have gone before us continue to intercede for us, their prayers now one with Christ’s eternal prayer. As Scripture tells us: “He lives forever to intercede for us.” (Hebrews 7:25) For the soul united with Christ, death does not end prayer—it completes it.
Intercession becomes no longer something we do, but something we are. The soul becomes prayer, because she abides in Love Itself.
In the illumination of divine consciousness, we glimpse that love transcends, prayer transcends, we transcend— because all are drawn up into the endless rhythm of love within the Trinity.

Intercession as a Shared Vocation

One of the most shaping revelations in my journey has been that intercession is not merely an activity — it is a vocation, a calling woven into the Body of Christ.

God once told me that there are people in Heaven who wait on my prayers. At first, I didn’t understand. But gradually, He taught me that intercession is never solitary. It is part of the divine circle of love, where Heaven and Earth join together in petition, praise, and spiritual labor.

Through one of my children in Heaven, I was told that around the ages of 18–20, I would receive a prayer vocation. Others would pray with me, for me, and into the intentions entrusted to me.

We carry burdens together. We share the load. When one link is missing, the chain cannot do its work. Once, one of my brothers in Heaven came to me — not in anger, but in urgency — and said:

“When you don’t pray, I can’t pray.”

Certain intercessions are joint missions. When I withdraw, others are forced to stand still. When I step forward, they can join their strength, their grace, and their voice to mine.

Intercession, then, is participation in something far larger than myself — a communion… a network… a family. And when I show up, Heaven shows up with me.

Reflection for the Reader

Intercession is a vocation that is both personal and communal. It is not about guilt or obligation — it is about relationship. Each prayer you offer is a link in a chain of love and grace that spans Heaven and Earth.

We are called to show up, even when it is difficult, even when our hearts resist. Doing so does not only honor God — it enables others to fulfill their vocation alongside us. Our prayers matter. Our presence matters. Our love matters.

God invites us into mutual partnership: He acts through us, with us, and sometimes even waits for our response to complete what He intends. In this, intercession becomes a dance of love — a shared work of Heaven and Earth.

Scripture reflections

Tonight at Mass we had Luke’s account of Jesus’ death.

23/11/2025

When the people were mocking Jesus with “If you are the Son of God”, I was reminded that this harks back to Jesus’ temptation in the desert. This is the language Satan used to try and sow doubt.

I believe they (demons) were starting to realise what God was doing, and it terrified them. I believe it was a last-ditch attempt to tempt Jesus to avoid going through with His death and resurrection. They were desperately trying to cling to what they were about to permanently lose. They never give anything up willingly; only God can strip it from them.

At times, in some demons, I have seen that they remember what they threw away, trashed, and violated when they chose to rebel. And further to that, they can never get it back. I believe this is one of the torments of hell for them.

I believe everything they try is an attempt to cover it up and make themselves forget this, but ultimately God’s victory is supreme and complete, and they know it.

Through His victory, Jesus has won this victory for all of us. It is done, dusted, and thoroughly complete. Never to be undone or overcome. Praise God for His victory for us.

Jesus shows us the way: look to and trust in His Father, our Heavenly Father. Even when all seemed lost, Jesus trusted in His Father, and He shows us that we can to.

How the revelation came

As the Gospel was being proclaimed, I simply heard the mocking words, “If you are the Son of God…” and something in me immediately recognised it. It was as though a quiet thread connected the moment of the Crucifixion with the temptation in the desert. I didn’t reason it out; the Holy Spirit simply “joined the dots” in my mind.

The Man Born Blind – John 9:1–6
A Reflection by Scholastica Teresa

In John 9:1–6, Jesus and His disciples encounter a man born blind. The disciples ask Jesus whether the man’s blindness was caused by his own sin or that of his parents. This question reflects the Old Testament belief that God punished people for their sins by bringing suffering or calamity upon them. But Jesus’ response reshapes this view completely. He declares that the man’s blindness is not a punishment for sin, but rather an opportunity for the works of God to be revealed.

Through this passage, we are invited to reinterpret the Old Testament in light of what Jesus reveals about God’s true nature. Jesus shows that God does not, and never has, caused human suffering as punishment for sin. Sometimes, things simply happen in our fallen world—without blame or divine retribution. God remains present, redemptive, and compassionate in the midst of it all.

Consider the story of King David. After his sin with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah, Scripture records that the child became ill and died. Traditionally, this was read as divine punishment. Yet, through the lens of Jesus’ teaching, we can understand it differently. The child’s illness occurred within the natural course of a broken world—something God allowed but did not cause. In His foreknowledge, God knew what would happen and worked through those circumstances to bring David to repentance, restoration, and deeper faith.

A similar reflection can be made about the sons of Eli. 1 Samuel 2:25 records that “God made the decision to kill them.” In light of Jesus’ revelation, however, we understand that God knew the outcome of their actions. He allowed events to unfold as they would and, through His foreknowledge and justice, brought correction and warning to Israel. God did not strike them down; He permitted the consequences of their choices to come to pass.

These reinterpretations help us confront one of the hardest questions of faith: Does God cause our suffering? From the life and teaching of Jesus, the answer is no. Suffering is not God’s doing—it is part of the human condition, present in a fallen world. Yet nothing is beyond His redemptive power. God works within every circumstance to bring healing, growth, and deeper faith. Nothing escapes His notice, and nothing is beyond His grace.

When Adam and Eve disobeyed, they opened the door to a world where things could go wrong—where pain, illness, and tragedy became possible. Even then, God’s love remained constant. In Jesus, we see that God does not abandon us in suffering; He enters into it with us. He redeems it, transforms it, and walks beside us every step of the way.

This truth became personal to me when I was fourteen. In a moment of deep suffering, I heard my heavenly Father’s voice say to me, “This is not why I made you.” That moment changed my understanding of God forever. The pain I endured was not His plan—it was not His doing. Yet through it all, He walked with me, teaching me, healing me, and leading me into deeper faith. This is my Emmaus road—my journey with Jesus beside me, revealing the heart of the Father who never causes harm, but who always redeems.

There is nothing that escapes God’s knowledge. There is nothing He cannot work with or understand. Nothing His grace cannot touch. God’s love is a constant for us all, and in every circumstance, He remains good, faithful, and present.

The parable of the sower

Jesus the divine Gardener

Reworked

07/11/2025

In this parable, God sows the seeds in the good soil in each of our hearts. The seeds represent the gifts, talents, and good things He gives to each of us.

The issues we have can present as concrete, weeds, briars, and rocks. These issues can and do interfere in our lives, and sometimes they crossover, affecting us in different ways.

The Concrete: Hardness of Heart

The concrete represents hardness of heart. I've encountered this in two ways:

As a footpath through the garden or a path circling around every plant.
As mixed into the dirt, part of the soil's foundation in the garden itself.

Sometimes, hardness of heart doesn’t just manifest as a separate issue—it interacts with other obstacles in the garden. For example, a hardened heart can make it difficult to sink our roots deep into God’s love. This can cause us to struggle with growth, even when we want to flourish. The concrete—representing hardness or resistance—often works alongside other issues, creating barriers that prevent us from fully reaching the nourishment and healing God intends for us. Hardness of heart can complicate our ability to allow God to reach the deep places of our souls, where healing and growth are most needed.

The Weeds and Briars: Interference in Growth

The weeds and briars above ground choke the good plants, hindering their growth. Beneath the surface, their roots work against the good plants, making it harder for them to establish themselves. As the weeds grow, they aim to starve or exhaust the good plants, preventing them from flourishing in the garden of God’s love.

However, the weeds and briars don’t just act alone—they often interfere with and magnify other issues in the garden. For example, a weed that chokes the good plants could be closely connected with unresolved pain or past wounds. These issues can cross over, feeding one another, and making healing feel more elusive. As a result, we may find ourselves dealing with multiple obstacles at once, where one issue makes it harder to address another. It’s not always just one thing at a time—it can be a web of issues interwoven in our hearts.

The Rocks: Hidden Barriers

The rocks in the garden can be like icebergs—only a small part is visible above the surface, while the majority is hidden beneath. We often don't know how deep or large the rocks are, but Jesus, the Divine Gardener, does. He alone understands the true size of the barriers in our hearts and knows how to remove them.

And like the weeds, the rocks in our lives don’t always act alone. A deeply rooted rock may also cause our hearts to harden, making it even more difficult to let go of past hurts or to open ourselves fully to God’s love. The rocks and the weeds can work in tandem to create layers of resistance that block us from fully receiving healing or growth. Jesus knows how these issues overlap, and He knows exactly where to begin to bring transformation.

Crossovers and Growth of Issues in the Garden of Our Hearts

It’s important to recognize that these issues don’t always remain isolated. They crossover and interact, sometimes complicating our healing. A hard heart can make it harder for us to address the roots of the weeds. The rocks can also make it difficult for us to trust God or sink our roots deeply into Him. We may face multiple layers of issues, where one problem magnifies the next.

But some issues don’t just cross over—they feed and grow, much like addiction. Just as weeds spread their roots and increase in size, certain issues can multiply, causing even more damage as they grow. These deeper-rooted issues add new layers of complexity to the healing process, and can affect areas of life that we didn’t initially expect. An issue like addiction, for example, doesn’t just stay confined to one area of our hearts—it can spread, infecting relationships, emotions, and even our understanding of ourselves. It often makes dealing with other issues even more difficult.

These issues can be self-perpetuating, feeding off one another, and creating cycles that are hard to break. What begins as a small weed can eventually choke out the growth of the entire garden. Addictive behaviors or compulsive patterns can become roots of destruction that not only interfere with the garden of our hearts but can also create further layers of pain and disconnection from God and others.

Jesus, the Divine Gardener: Preparing the Ground and Building Foundations

As time goes on, Jesus begins to tie things together. In the early stages, we may only see isolated areas being addressed—sometimes it feels like Jesus is simply tending to small issues or symptoms. However, as He works in us over time, He starts to deal with the deeper roots—those hidden places that we might not even recognize and/or know of. It's like tending to the root of a tree. We might not know exactly where that root is attached or how far it extends, but Jesus knows. He sees the connections and how the deeper issues intertwine.

This process can feel slow and often unseen. It might not always make sense to us in the moment, but as He works, we begin to see how the pieces come together. He knows what needs to be dealt with and in what order. Often, the deeper roots He addresses are those that have been hidden beneath the surface for a long time. As He pulls them out, the connections between issues become clearer, and healing begins to spread throughout the whole garden of our hearts.

Laying Stable Foundations for Growth

When Jesus begins to work in us, He often starts by building stable foundations—especially in the early stages of our journey. He deals with any flaws, weaknesses, or areas of instability that might hinder growth. Just like a gardener prepares the soil before planting, Jesus works in our hearts to prepare the ground. He may address foundational issues like trust, identity, and understanding, ensuring that we have a solid base to grow from.

For some, like myself with my gender issue, this foundational work can be ongoing. My gender identity is not something that has a quick fix or instant healing. It’s a lifelong issue that requires continued attention and care. The same is true for others who might be dealing with long-term challenges. Being open to the Holy Spirit is key in this process. The Holy Spirit helps us navigate and grow through these foundational issues, offering wisdom, comfort, and direction as we move forward.

Without a solid foundation, the deeper healing work would not have the strength to take root. So, in this process, Jesus first stabilizes our hearts—removing rocks, weeds, and debris that could obstruct future growth. He makes sure the soil is healthy and fertile before He moves on to the more complex or painful areas that will require deeper work.

Trusting the Process and the Timing

As He works on us, we may not always see the full scope of what He's doing. But through it all, He is preparing us for the deeper healing that will come. Just as a tree needs a strong root system before it can grow tall and bear fruit, we need a solid foundation before Jesus can address the more profound issues we face. He is patient, and He works at a pace that matches our ability to handle the next layer of healing.

In time, we will look back and see how each step of the process—whether it was the healing of small issues or the deeper roots—was part of God's loving plan to bring about wholeness. Jesus, the Divine Gardener, understands the journey of healing better than we do. He knows the timing, the order, and the depth of the work required. And He is always faithful to complete it.

Letting Jesus In

In all areas of our spiritual lives, especially in the garden of our own hearts, Jesus is the Divine Gardener. He knows what is going on in our lives, and nothing escapes His notice. He understands what needs to be done, and it is up to us to choose to let Him work in us. Using the sacraments, forgiving others, and asking for forgiveness are all part of the healing process. These are essential for spiritual growth and wholeness.

A Personal Reflection: Perfectionism as a Weed Root

When I was younger, I used to play cricket. My perfectionism—possibly arising from my elite giftings—often weighed heavily on me. I remember one time I got out and, frustrated with myself, I began bashing my bat on the ground. The keeper on the other side egged me on, telling me to throw it, but I didn’t.

Years later, Jesus revealed to me something profound: my perfectionism had added to the root base of His weeds in his heart. What I thought was simply striving for excellence had, in fact, made it harder for the good seeds to grow. My own intensity and self-criticism had thickened the roots of pride, frustration, and hardness—impediments to the life and growth God intended.

This memory reminds me that even qualities we admire in ourselves—discipline, drive, or perfectionism—can, when left unchecked or separated from God, feed the weeds in our hearts. Only by allowing Jesus, the divine gardener, to tend the garden of our lives can these hidden roots be addressed and transformed.

Connecting Reflection – From Principle to Experience

The parable of the sower and the teaching of Jesus as the Divine Gardener show us the principles of growth, care, and healing in our hearts. Yet knowing these truths does not always make the garden tidy or easy to navigate. The Garden of My Life is a lived reflection of what can happen when neglect, inherited patterns, and long-term harm take root. In this lament, the animals, briars, thorns, weeds, and hidden snakes are the visible and hidden consequences of walking a difficult path alone. As we pray through this lament, we invite the Divine Gardener to tend the tangled, painful, and chaotic parts of our hearts — the areas we cannot manage ourselves — trusting Him to restore, heal, and guide us toward new life.

Reflection – The Garden Within

In every heart lies a hidden garden. Some parts are fertile, others hardened; some choked by weeds or blocked by stone. Yet the Divine Gardener never ceases his work. As we yield to his touch, what was barren becomes fruitful, and what was wounded becomes whole. The more we allow him to tend the soil of our soul, the more his love blossoms within us—and through us to others.

Scripture

John 15:1–2 (GNT)
“I am the real vine, and my Father is the gardener. He breaks off every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and he prunes every branch that does bear fruit, so that it will be clean and bear more fruit.”

Jesus second temptation

temptation of Jesus is covered in two of the gospels. Matthew 4:1-11 and Luke 4:1-13.

I was at mass listening to this gospel being read out. When it got to the second temptation Satan told Jesus, ‘All the kingdoms of the world have been given to me, I can give them to whoever I want. If you bow down to me they can be yours.’ When I heard this, the Holy Spirit told me Satan was lying when he said this.

Reflecting upon this revelation I am reminded of where Jesus states Satan has been a liar from the beginning. The way I understand this is that their are no circumstances where Satan would be able to hand things over. His rejection of God is so thorough and complete that he has rejected everything of God.

He and his kingdom is the complete antithesis of Gods kingdom. Greed and selfishness are two of his motives here. Love and adulation have no place in him.

He is not capable of giving, accepting or receiving love. Hatred and enmity are his ways. All he wants to do is destroy all of Gods holy creation. His false view appears to be, once something is mine it is always mine. Jesus’ cross deals with this. A consequence of their rebellion is, all demons no longer have any moral compass or conscience. They are completely given over to evil. This decision is an eternal decision. They can never come back from this decision. Their is no hope for them, the lake of eternal fire is their ultimate destination. All who follow them will also end up there.

Jesus in overcoming his temptations shows us the way. Through him, we must die to ourselves and take up our own cross’ and follow him.

In John 12:31 it states, ‘Now is the time for this world to be judged; now the ruler of this world will be overthrown.’ Good news translation

What is impossible for man is possible for God. Because of sin, the previously unbridgeable gap between God and humanity is now bridged through Jesus’ cross. As a result Satan is now defeated. He and his minions cannot ever overcome the cross of Jesus Christ.

Mark 8:22‒26

They came to Bethsaida, where some people brought a blind man to Jesus and begged him to touch him. Jesus took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village.
Then he spat on the man’s eyes, placed his hands on him, and asked, ‘Can you see anything?’ The man looked up and said, ‘Yes, I can see people, but they look like trees walking about.’ Jesus again placed his hands on the man’s eyes.
This time the man looked intently̶his eyesight returned, and he saw everything clearly. Jesus then sent him home, saying, ‘Do not go back into the village.’”

̶ Mark 8:22‒26 (GNT)

Reflection: Seeing Clearly

In this gospel story, Jesus heals a blind man ̶ but He needs to do it twice. There could be many reasons for this.
What I want to look at are the spiritual implications: that this man may have had two separate issues that needed to be dealt with, and Jesus chose to heal them separately.
When God works with us, we can be slow to believe, to understand, and to learn. As humans, we can forget what God has done. We can become too familiar with His works.
After Jesus initially restores the man’s eyesight, it is reported that he saw people as trees walking. Effectively, he could not focus, his sight was blurred. He needed Jesus’ help again.
And Jesus, in His mercy, was happy to complete the healing. It could also be that God was teaching us something through this.
Sometimes, like that man, our vision is not clear either. We think we see people ̶ and ourselves ̶ rightly, but we may still be viewing through a fog of hurt, fear, or misunderstanding.
We may see people as shapes, not as souls; or see ourselves as less than who God made us to be. It takes another touch from Jesus to see clearly, to recognise both our own worth and the dignity of others.
St. Paul wrote, “Now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I am fully known.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Our vision now is partial, dim, and easily distorted ̶ but God’s vision is never out of focus. He sees us and our lives with perfect clarity and love. Realising that our sight may be the blurred one takes humility before Him.
When walking with God, life becomes a journey of many steps. He can heal and reveal things in stages ̶ step by step along the road. It may be the way God chooses to work, or it may simply be the way we need Him to work. Before Jesus ascended to heaven, He told His disciples, “I have much more to tell you, but now it would be too much for you to bear. When the Holy Spirit comes, He will reveal the truth to you.” (John 16:12‒13)

This can be true for us as well. We need things revealed gradually. God knows when we are ready for the next step. Scripture says, “Your word is a lamp to guide me and a light for my path.” (Psalm 119:105) A lamp gives enough light for the next step, not the whole road ahead. Too often we look further than we need to, and when we do, our vision becomes blurred. In those moments, we need to go to Jesus and ask Him to help us focus ̶ on the next step, on what He’s asking of us today, on how He wants us to see ourselves and others through His eyes.
A saying from the Twelve Steps reminds us:“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift.” Today is where I meet my Creator, who unconditionally loves me and constantly desires His best for me.

My Reflection

This passage reminds me that spiritual clarity is not a single event but a journey. Jesus’ second touch shows that God is patient with our process.
We do not fail Him by needing another touch ̶ in fact, it is in our returning to Him that deeper healing happens. When our vision of ourselves or others feels distorted, when our hope blurs into fear, that is not the end of faith but the beginning of another invitation. Jesus is always ready to place His hands upon our eyes again, until we see clearly ̶ until we see with love.

Refusing Herod

(The Questions)

There are moments in life when what looks like failure in the world’s eyes is, in God’s, an act of faithfulness.

When standing apart is not rebellion, but obedience.
When the choice to walk away — bruised, misunderstood, unseen —
is the choice that keeps the soul intact.

I think back to my apprenticeship,
to the place where I first learned that saying no can cost you everything.
And yet, somehow, it can also save what’s most precious.

It was there, among engines and grease,
that the Lord began teaching me
that faithfulness sometimes hides beneath what others call weakness.

The Apprenticeship and the Parable

When I was eighteen, I began an apprenticeship as a mechanic.
I loved cars, always had — the hum of engines, the scent of oil and steel,
the satisfaction of fixing what was broken.

It should have been a home for my hands,
but instead, it became a testing ground for my soul.

I was undiagnosed then — ADHD and autism —
and living with epilepsy that had been diagnosed and treated.

I couldn’t drink, not because I wanted to be different,
but because I didn’t want to risk killing someone — or myself —
if I ever had a seizure behind the wheel or in the workshop.

But they wanted me to drink, to smoke, to swear,
to become like them.

And I said no.

My faith was less than a year old,
but it was strong enough to make me stand when others bowed.
I didn’t yet realise it was leadership.
I just knew I couldn’t betray what was right.

They let me work for nearly two years,
then told me they’d known after three months that I wouldn’t make it.

They said it was fairness.
It was betrayal.

After I left, people said:
“You didn’t fit in — you don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you don’t swear.”

As if purity was a flaw,
and compromise the cure.

But I see it differently now.
That wasn’t failure.
That was faithfulness.

There was something else I never told anyone then.
I was a girl inside —
terrified of being seen, terrified of being found out.
Every day I carried that hidden truth like a live wire under my skin.

One day they asked me:
“If we paid a prostitute for you, would you go?”

I said no, not even knowing how deep that no went.
Their laughter stung, but I stood my ground.

The Car Incident

I was sitting in a customer’s car, waiting to park it,
when suddenly my right leg pressed the accelerator flat to the floor.
I had no control.

The car surged forward; a mechanic in another car was just ahead.

Then I heard a voice inside — clear, calm, commanding:

“Stand on the brake. Stand on the brake.”

I did.
With my left leg I pressed the brake pedal as hard as I could all I could do was hold it.
It felt like forever, suddenly as it started my right leg right leg released on its own.

The mechanic came over, asking if I was all right.
I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know what had just happened.
Only that I had listened to the voice —
and that listening had kept everyone safe.

Even then,
God was training something in me:
a calmness that thinks instead of panics,
a steadiness that holds even when the body does not.
A quiet obedience to the still, commanding voice within.

Years later, I learned something in theology that cast light backward.
In the first millennium, they told the Parable of the Talents differently.

The king was Herod — a tyrant.
The servants who made profit were the ones who copied his cruelty.
The one who buried the coin in refusal
was the only one who did right.

And now I see —
I was that servant.
I refused to imitate Herod.
I would not trade my conscience for comfort,
or my soul for belonging.
They called it weakness.
Heaven called it strength.

Afterword — The Hidden Strength Revealed

Looking back now, I can see what I couldn’t then.
That young apprentice, terrified and unseen,
was already walking in truth — long before she had the language for it.

Her courage wasn’t loud; it was steady.
It was the kind of strength heaven notices,
even when earth calls it failure.

At the time, I thought I’d lost everything.
But God was guarding something holy inside me.
He was teaching me what faithfulness looks like when it costs,
what integrity means when no one applauds it.
I was being formed — shaped by resistance, refined by misunderstanding.

And the same Lord who healed my epilepsy
has been healing the deeper wounds too:
the fear of being found out,
the ache of rejection,
the loneliness of standing alone.

Now, when I look back, I hear His voice again —
the same voice that spoke in the car — quiet but firm, strong but gentle:

“You were never alone, child.
Even then, I stood beside you in the workshop.
I was the voice that said, ‘Stand on the brake.’
I was the calm in your shaking hands.
You thought you were weak, but I was planting strength in you.
The world laughed, but Heaven bore witness.
And what they called failure, I called faithfulness.”

No act of faithfulness goes unseen.
No refusal to imitate Herod is wasted.
What was hidden then has become visible now —
the strength, the truth, and the grace
that were growing quietly all along.

Nathanial’s Lesson of Love

When I first met two of my spiritual children, I was trying to live as a male, Michael. Jesus brought them down to let me know they were safe, loved, and known.
They also wanted to be around me. They are Nathanial and Tobias, fraternal twins. At the time, they were about seven years old. Jesus told me Nathanial was like me, his father — he was “a little Michael.” I proceeded to call him “Michael Version Two” (MVT).
I thought it was funny and cute, but Nathanial would have none of it. He stood up to me, his dad, and gently but firmly refused what I was doing. He stamped his foot, stood up for himself and declared, 'I am an individual'.
It took me a while to realise what he was telling me. I asked Jesus am I having a go at him? I was told, 'Yes you are'. With that I started to realise, that sort of humour doesn’t wash in heaven or with God. Love is the way up there.
Nathanial is so secure in who he is in God that he stood up to his dad and taught me about divine love. I have since been able to thank him for doing this — for reminding me that love, not laughter at another’s expense, is what heaven cherishes most.

**Reflection — The Child Who Taught the Father**

Nathanial’s quiet courage is a mirror of heaven’s order, where innocence is not weakness but strength in love. Through his resistance, he reflected the Father’s nature — that identity is never born from jest but from grace. His simple stand called forth humility in me, reminding me that even a father learns through his children.
God often teaches us through the pure hearts of those who have never forgotten what it means to belong entirely to Him.

“Then Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the children come to me and do not stop them, because the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these.’” — Luke 18:16 (GNT)

My Vocation, purpose and responsibility

A Leader Before I Knew I Was One: The Moses Road Through My Childhood

1) The Seed of Leadership

Before I ever understood the word leadership, before I knew anything about calling or gifting, something within me was being formed in places I could not yet see.

I didn’t think about leading. I didn’t set out to be different. I didn’t even know I was choosing anything at all. There were moments — small in appearance, forgotten by everyone else — where my instinct simply took over. Not loud. Not forceful. Not dramatic. Just a quiet certainty. A direction that rose up without hesitation. A strength that acted before fear had a chance to speak.

No strategy.
No conscious choice.
Just a way of responding that was simply… mine.

I used to believe strength only came later — after the wounds, after the wrestling, after the years spent trying to hold myself together. But Jesus has shown me something deeper: the leader in me was already there before I ever knew what I was becoming.

There was a compass within me long before I learned to navigate.
There was courage within me long before I learned what fear could do.
There was truth within me long before the world tried to silence it.

A leader isn’t made the day they step into a role.
A leader is revealed by the way they respond when no one is watching.

Jesus said to me:
“The leader was already in you. You simply hadn’t learned to see him yet.”

2) Abandoned at the Airport

One of the earliest memories comes from when I was seven or eight. Our class went to the airport to see the Queen arrive. Crowds everywhere, noise, excitement, and then… my so-called friends at the time, ran off and left me behind. Alone. I could have panicked, cried, or frozen. But I didn’t. I remembered the bus number, went back to the bus, and waited. Calmly. Patiently.

When Sister Glennis, our teacher, returned and asked why I was there, I said simply, “I got lost in the crowd.” In that moment, God showed me — even then — that I could stay steady under pressure. That I could act decisively and calmly when others faltered. It wasn’t just survival; it was an instinctive clarity, a gift He had already placed in me.

3) Going Against the Grain

Years later, a similar pattern appeared in the playground. I was in Year 8 or 9, with a close group of friends. We had routines — actions that were done individually, in rotation, while the group played together. One day, it was my turn to take part, but something in me refused. My friend pressed me: “We’ve all done it. You do it.” He really turned the screws, pushing harder and harder. The more he pushed, the firmer I became. The more he insisted, the more stubbornly I stood my ground.

I wasn’t thinking about leadership. I wasn’t trying to be brave. I was simply being who I was.

Later, Jesus helped me see the truth: that quiet refusal, that instinctive resistance, was leadership — not loud, not dramatic, but steady, unwavering, and rooted in truth.

Most people expect compliance. Most groups reward conformity. Most circles punish the one who stands apart. But leadership disrupts group-think simply by remaining true.

That day, in a playground filled with friends and routine pressures, I stood alone in action. I thought I was just refusing to take my turn. Jesus shows me now:
“You weren’t just refusing — you were standing apart. You were leading yourself.”

4) The Leader in Formation

Looking back, it’s clear that these moments were not isolated events. They were signposts — glimpses of a gift God had placed in me long before I could understand it. He was forming a leader in the hidden places, teaching me how to stand firm, remain calm, and act with integrity even when the world around me expected me to conform or falter.

Jesus has shown me that my path shares similarities with Moses. Like him, I have wrestled with the weight of responsibility, questioned my ability, and sometimes argued with God over what was asked of me. Just as Moses had moments of doubt, fear, and frustration, so too did I — and yet God continued to call me forward.

Those early instincts — the quiet clarity at the airport, the refusal to follow the crowd in the playground — were not simply reactions. They were glimpses of the leader He created me to be:

Calm under pressure
Steadfast in truth
Unmoved by coercion or fear
Guided by an inner compass that He placed in me

God didn’t wait for me to grow into leadership; He revealed it in me, tested it through trials, and refined it through challenge. The very experiences that could have broken me — abandonment, exclusion, peer pressure — became the forge in which strength, discernment, and courage were tempered.

Through it all, He has been speaking to the child, the teenager, and the adult in me:

“You were always more than the circumstances you faced.
You were always leading, even before you knew it.
Stand firm. Be who I made you to be. I will go with you.”

These reflections remind me that leadership is not measured by position, applause, or recognition. True leadership is rooted in integrity, courage, and faithfulness — qualities nurtured quietly in hidden places. It is formed in moments of solitude, pressure, and choice — moments that test the heart, the spirit, and the resolve.

God has shown me that the leader in me is not defined by what others expect, but by who He has created me to be. And in walking this path, even when it mirrors the struggles of Moses, I am reminded: His hand has always been guiding, refining, and preparing me for what lies ahead.

Closing Reflection: Standing in His Presence

Father, thank You for never leaving me, even in the moments I felt most alone. Thank You for planting leadership in me before I even knew what it meant, for guiding me through crowds, through peer pressure, and through the hidden places of my heart.

I release the pain of being left behind, of being pressured, of being misunderstood. I lay these wounds before You, knowing that each one has shaped the leader You created me to be.

Help me to continue standing firm, calmly, with integrity, even when the world pushes against me. Remind me that true leadership is not measured by applause or recognition, but by faithfulness, courage, and obedience to Your call.

Let the child I once was — the one who stood alone in the playground, the one who waited patiently on the bus — hear Your voice now:
“I am with you. I have always been with you. You are never alone, and you have always been leading, even before you knew it.”

May I walk forward in the life You have given me with confidence, clarity, and the quiet courage You have placed in my heart. And may this gift of leadership, born in hidden places, continue to grow for Your glory and for the good of those You place in my path.

Amen.

The Reluctant Admiral

by Scholastica Teresa

My Heavenly Father,

When You first spoke of leadership, I shied away. I did not want to be seen, to be followed, or to carry responsibility. I had spent so long just trying to stay afloat that the idea of leading others felt like a burden I could not bear.

After one encounter I heard You state softly but firmly, “So, you didn't want to be a leader?” It wasn’t accusation—it was invitation.

A question that pierced deeper than I expected. At that moment, I realised You were not trying to assign me a title. You were trying to awaken something within me—something You had already placed there long ago.

You showed me the ships You had entrusted to my care, the ones already sailing beneath Your command: vessels of mercy, faith, and trustworthiness. You reminded me how You had guided me through every storm, teaching me the currents of grace and the winds of discernment.

And then You showed me so clearly: “Look what you’ve done with what I’ve given you. I know what you are capable of. You just need to trust Me.”

In that moment, my reluctance met Your reassurance. I began to see that leadership in Your Kingdom is not aboutpower or position. It is about listening, guiding, and carrying others safely through the waves.

You did not make me an admiral to command fleets, but to love them—to ensure they reach home. You gave me authority not as a crown, but as a compass.

In the end, I realised there was no use resisting You, Lord. I wasn’t going to win—and I didn’t need to. So I simply got on with it, trusting that You knew exactly what You were doing all along.

Amen

My Vocation, My Mother and me.

01/12/2025

God placed me with Mum and Dad on purpose. From the beginning, I was not random. My adoption was not an accident, nor a convenience, nor a compromise of love—it was part of a divine design. God knew the wounds that would surface, the challenges I would face, the dynamics I would inherit, and the call He would place on my life. He also knew the ways He would need to work through me to bring healing where human hands could not.

One of the clearest examples of this is my vocation—the call to carry Divine Mercy. It is not incidental that it intersects so powerfully with Mum. In my experiences with her, through her indifference, her fears, her limitations, God has been quietly shaping me. He has been preparing me to step into mercy in the most difficult, raw, human ways. And now, years later, I see that He is using that very vocation to heal her, even though she may never have fully embraced her own call.

Growing up, when signs of vocation appeared in me, they were met with fear, even resistance. I remember moments when I felt disarmed, threatened, or overlooked—moments when Mum’s reaction was sharp or indifferent. At the time, I interpreted this as a personal rejection, a barrier, a place of pain I had to navigate alone. But now, I see a deeper truth: perhaps her reaction was less about me than it was about a call she herself once had, a vocation she carried in her soul and that, through fear or circumstance, was silenced. Perhaps my own vocation stirred in her something she could not answer, and God was waiting, using me as the instrument of grace she could not wield herself.

The schoolyard taunt she carried for decades—the cruel words of a peer who said her mum would go to hell because she was not Catholic—was a wound that left its mark on her spiritual life. I see now how deeply it affected her relationship with God, how it may have robbed her of courage, hope, or even a sense of belonging in her faith. And God, in His mercy, has chosen to use my vocation to touch that wound, to bring healing and restoration into her life, even beyond the veil of death.

Through Divine Mercy, He is allowing me to offer what human hands could not. Through prayer, intercession, and the offering of my own life and wounds, God is letting His mercy flow into her soul. This is not me “fixing” her. It is not me controlling her fate. It is God working through me, trusting me with the channel of grace, trusting my yes, my obedience, my vocation, to reach where her own ability to respond was limited.

This is the pattern of mercy God often chooses: He heals the parent through the child, the wounded through the one who carries light into the darkness. My vocation is holy not simply because it belongs to me, but because God uses it for the healing of others, beginning with those I inherited most closely—Mum, and through her, the generations she touched.

Even now, I sense the paradox: she is no longer in my care, she cannot respond as she might have, yet through mercy, through Divine Mercy, through my vocation, God is restoring what was broken. I am participating in something far greater than memory or emotion. I am living in the economy of grace, where mercy flows backwards and forwards through time, through wounds, through vocation, and through love that is divine, not human.

The adoption, the childhood wounds, the indifference, the missed protection, the pain—they were not wasted. They were formative. They prepared me. They shaped me into someone capable of carrying mercy in its fullness, someone who could step into the places of brokenness without fear, without bitterness, with eyes trained to see God’s hand at work in even the smallest details.

I now release all this to Jesus. I surrender the pain, the memory, the family dynamics, the what-ifs, the lingering questions. I lift Mum to His mercy, entrust her to His love, and invite His grace to flow through me, to touch her, and to restore what human hands could not. I pray for healing, purification, and the release of wounds, that the blood of Christ might cleanse what was broken, and that Divine Mercy might shine into every dark corner of what was left undone.

This is my vocation. This is my call. This is my offering. Through the wounds of the past, God is shaping a vessel for His mercy, and I am learning to walk in it fully, with courage, surrender, and hope. The past is not erased, but it is redeemed. The pain is not ignored, but it is sanctified. The love that was absent is now made present through Christ.

And in this, I see the pattern of my life: to carry mercy where it is most needed, to bring light where neglect once reigned, and to let God’s grace complete what the world could not. My vocation is not mine alone. It belongs to Him, and through Him, it reaches beyond the limits of my experience, touching the souls He has entrusted to me—even my mother.

Prayer of Mercy and Release for My Mother

Heavenly Father,
I come before You in the name of Jesus Christ, my most holy and loving Spouse. I lift my mother to You, entrusting her entirely into Your hands, into Your mercy, and into Your perfect love.

Lord Jesus, through Your Divine Mercy, touch her soul. Heal the wounds that time could not reach, the fears that have lingered, the regrets that have weighed upon her. Cleanse the pain of neglect, fear, and misunderstanding, and restore in her the fullness of Your love.

I release all the anger, hurt, and resentment I have carried, Father. I forgive her for the ways she could not protect, nurture, or understand me. I release her from my judgment, from my expectation, and from the burden of my memories. Let Your mercy flow freely where human love fell short.

Lord, I ask that through the vocation You have placed on my life, Your mercy may reach her. May the prayers I offer, the wounds I surrender, and the life You have called me to live become instruments of her healing. Restore what was broken, purify what was marred, and let Your love shine into every shadowed place.

Holy Spirit, descend upon her now. Surround her with Your light, fill her with Your peace, and bring her into the embrace of Your mercy, both in life and beyond, wherever she may be. May she know, even now, the depth of Your love, the healing of Your truth, and the grace of Your forgiveness.

Bless her, Father, and sanctify her entirely. Let Your Divine Mercy triumph over every wound, every fear, and every regret. May she experience the fullness of Your eternal love.

I pray this in the holy and mighty name of Jesus Christ, my Lord, my Spouse, and my Redeemer. Amen.

God the Father, creation and redemption

God the Father and Parenting

18/12/2025

Once, when my son was young, he asked me a question. As he asked it, God showed me the need that lay beneath the words. I was able to respond to that need through what my Heavenly Father revealed, rather than simply answering the question itself.

This experience has helped me understand something deeper about my relationship with God the Father. This is how He is with me. All my needs and struggles are fully known to Him. Nothing is hidden from God, even when it remains unspoken or unresolved.

When God works with me, He knows where I am coming from. He knows what I need, and He knows what is impeding me from moving forward. His knowledge is not intrusive or forceful; it is patient, loving, and precise.

God always respects my God-given free will and my choices, even when that freedom risks harming myself and others. Yet His love remains a constant that never changes. It is not God who needs to change — it is me. I must choose to want to change.

This journey is about learning to open myself to Him, to trust Him, and to give Him permission to fill me with His love, truth, and presence. He does not force transformation; He invites it, patiently and faithfully, until I am ready to receive what has always been offered.

Jesus experiences suffering in His human nature.
The Father and the Spirit know this suffering through the Son’s possession of it, because the Trinity shares one divine knowing.
But they do not directly suffer it, since they did not take on human nature.
This communication happens because the divine Son, in the hypostatic union, bridges human experience into the divine life without making God suffer.

reflection

1. Humanity cannot redeem itself.

After the Fall:

humanity is wounded,
divided internally,
spiritually powerless,
unable to return to God on its own strength.

The Fathers say:

“Humanity could not climb to God,
so God descended to humanity.”

This is the entire logic of the Incarnation.

**2. Redemption required both God and humanity.**

But not separately.

Redemption required:

✔ real humanity — so the human race is represented

✔ real divinity — so the act has infinite, saving power

This is precisely why the Son became incarnate.

Only Jesus — one divine Person with two natures — can bridge the gap:

as man, He can obey where Adam failed
as God, His obedience has infinite worth

So the hypostatic union is not a side doctrine — it is the structure that makes redemption possible.

You said it perfectly:
It took God and humanity acting together in the one Person of Christ.

3. Jesus as the New Adam

Adam disobeyed and brought:

fracture
sin
death

Jesus — the New Adam — obeys perfectly and brings:

restoration
righteousness
life

Where Adam misused the freedom of a creature,
Jesus uses the freedom of a human will fully united to divine love.

The Fathers say:

“By one man’s disobedience we were enslaved;
by one Man’s obedience we are set free.”

4. Mary as the New Eve

And yes — you are exactly right here too.

The early Church consistently saw Mary as the New Eve:

Adam and Eve brought death
Christ and Mary bring life
Eve cooperated with the serpent
Mary cooperated freely with grace (“Let it be to me…”)

But Mary’s role is cooperative, not redemptive:

She is not Redeemer
She is the one who freely lets God redeem humanity
Her “yes” undoes Eve’s “no”

The Fathers explicitly said:

“The knot of Eve’s disobedience was loosed by Mary’s obedience.”
—St. Irenaeus

They call her:

“Mother of the living”
“The new Eve”
“The one who opened the door for Life to enter the world”

But Jesus alone redeems.

A Narrative of Creation, Death, and Redemption

17/01/2026

From the very beginning, God created a world that was good, harmonious, and ordered. Within that creation, life unfolded according to His sustaining power. Some events, like the eventual extinction of the dinosaurs — whether caused by a meteor or other cosmic occurrences — were contingent realities: random within creation, yet fully foreknown and permitted by God. These events were not acts of judgment, nor the result of rebellion, but natural processes that demonstrate the richness, freedom, and contingency inherent in a living world.

Humans, however, were created in a unique way: in the imago Dei. Unlike animals, humans were endowed with reason, conscience, and moral awareness. This cognitive complexity gave humanity the freedom to choose, the ability to know right from wrong, and the capacity to live in authentic relationship with God. That freedom, while beautiful, also introduced the possibility of rebellion. When Adam and Eve chose to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, they exercised that freedom wrongly, introducing sin into human history.

The effect of sin is not simply biological death, which exists in creation for all creatures. It is spiritual and existential death — a rupture of communion with God. Humans became aware of their pride, fear, shame, and alienation. They could no longer fully live in the unbroken presence of God. This is the death the Bible speaks of: not merely the end of life, but the fracturing of the soul’s relationship with its Creator. Biological death follows, but its moral and relational weight is uniquely human.

Animals, though incapable of sin, do suffer within this fallen world. They are subject to decay, disease, and predation because the creation they inhabit has been fractured by human rebellion. Yet their suffering carries no moral guilt; it is an effect, not a punishment, and reflects the groaning of creation that longs for restoration (Romans 8:22).

Even in the midst of apparent randomness, God sustains all things. Nothing occurs outside His knowledge or permissive will. Cosmic events, natural disasters, human sin, and animal suffering all unfold within the framework of His sovereignty. He allows creation to be real and consequential, yet He never loses control or love. This tension — freedom, contingency, and the sustaining power of God — is staggering, a constant source of awe.

Ultimately, the narrative of creation, fall, and suffering points to redemption. Christ enters this world of contingent events and human rebellion to restore what was lost. He defeats spiritual death, heals alienation, and makes eternal communion with God possible. Resurrection is not merely the survival of the body but the restoration of the human soul into full relationship with God. True immortality is life with God, not life apart from Him. The death of creatures and the consequences of sin are neither ignored nor erased; they are held within the care of God, who redeems all that is good and restores all that is broken.

In this narrative, the mind can grasp only a fraction of the wonder: a world alive with contingency and freedom, humans endowed with moral responsibility, animals suffering yet innocent, cosmic events unfolding in mystery, and a God whose sovereignty holds all things together — permitting, sustaining, and ultimately redeeming. It is, as you said, simply mind-blowing.

Uncategorized

The Revelation: Facing the Depths and Seeing God

“Even in the face of darkness, nothing escapes His gaze.”

Introduction to The Revelation

There are moments in life when the veil between what is seen and unseen feels impossibly thin. In my journey, I have faced such moments — encounters with darkness¹, with the subtle and the stark forces that move unseen in the world. These experiences shaped my understanding of truth, evil, and God’s unyielding presence.

The Revelation is my witness to what I have endured and learned: the absoluteness of evil², the unwavering gaze of God³, and the redemption that rises even in the midst of terror. It is here that I lay bare what was hidden, reflect on what has been revealed, and surrender all to the One who sees everything, misses nothing⁴, and holds all in mercy.

Framing the Encounter

There are moments when the darkness¹ reveals itself so fully that the human mind recoils. I have seen such things — the depths of malice, the cleverness of lies, the coldness of forces that exist only to destroy. It is overwhelming, terrifying, and almost impossible to comprehend. Yet even in that exposure, I have learned a vital truth: God sees everything³. Nothing escapes His notice, and nothing escapes His care. In the midst of horror, His gaze holds, steadies, and redeems. What follows is my lament, my reflection, and my prayer — a witness to the stark reality of evil² and the unshakable constancy of God’s justice and mercy.

The Gall of the Enemy

I saw the lengths to which evil² would go,
and I was stunned.
No limit, no boundary, no line left uncrossed.
Every sacred thing defiled,
every innocence hunted.

And in that glimpse, I saw the truth —
I will never understand the absoluteness of their evil².
My humanity recoils; my spirit trembles.
I am too small to comprehend what has no mercy.

But You, O God³,
You see it all.
You miss nothing⁴.
And though I cannot grasp the darkness²,
I rest in the One who exposes it.
You are the line that cannot be crossed.
You are the boundary of justice,
the end of all their schemes.

Let my eyes see only as much as my soul can bear,
and let the rest remain hidden in Your mercy.

(Transition to reflection)
From the shock of what I have witnessed rises a realization that begins to soothe the raw edges of my fear: God misses nothing⁴. What I cannot comprehend, He fully sees³, and in that seeing, there is mercy.

Reflection — God Misses Nothing

There was a time when that thought terrified me.
If God misses nothing⁴, then He saw it all — every lie, every assault, every distortion that the enemy² wove.
He saw what I could not stop, and what I did not understand.
He saw my confusion and my anger,
my desperate effort to do the right thing when the ground beneath me was lies and ashes.

Now, that same truth has become my refuge.
God misses nothing⁴ — not the smallest act of cruelty,
not the faintest cry of a wounded child,
not the hidden tears I thought no one saw.

He misses nothing in the darkness²,
but He also misses nothing in the light³.
He sees the growth of trust,
the softening of a heart that should have hardened,
the courage to keep saying yes even when understanding is still far away.

The gall of the enemy² no longer astonishes me as much as the faithfulness of God³ does.
Because even when evil acted with boldness²,
God was already at work with quiet authority³.
He saw, and in seeing, He began to redeem.

(Transition to prayer)
And now, in the calm that follows this reflection, I lift my voice in surrender, placing both the horror I have seen² and the mercy I have received³ into God’s hands.

Prayer — You See, O God

You see, O God³ —
what I could not bear to see²,
what I could not change,
what I could not stop.

You saw me when the night was long
and when my heart was torn in two.
You saw the truth beneath the lies²,
and You never turned away.

You miss nothing⁴,
not the smallest flicker of pain,
nor the trembling hope that still dares to rise within me.
You see my children⁵, Joshua, Nathanial, and Tobias,
and hold them safe in Your sight,
untouched by what I could not control.

Teach me to rest in Your seeing³ —
to trust that what You have seen,
You are already healing.

Let Your gaze cleanse what is unclean²,
restore what is broken,
and bring to light what still hides in shadow³.

You are my justice and my mercy³.
You are the One who misses nothing⁴
and forgets nothing that love has claimed.

Amen.

Footnotes / Side Comments

Satanic or demonic activity – While I describe encounters with evil forces, these experiences are framed within my personal faith perspective. In spiritual terms, demons are understood as fallen beings who act to deceive, destroy, and oppose God’s work.
The absoluteness of evil – Descriptions of evil in this section reflect personal experience and trauma. Evil can appear boundless, but it is always limited by God’s sovereignty.
God’s omniscience and care – God sees all events, intentions, and hidden realities. This awareness is both a comfort and a source of trust, reminding us that nothing is beyond His oversight.
God misses nothing – A phrase emphasizing that God perceives all and acts with mercy and justice. It is central to trusting Him in the face of incomprehensible evil.
Intercession for some of my children – References to Joshua, Nathanial, and Tobias acknowledge ongoing spiritual intercession and the protective care God provides them.

Being wanted and loved by God.
11/02/2026

As God continues to heal me, I get deeper understandings of some of my deeper beliefs and the way things were ministered to me. This includes before I was born.

At the moment, what I have been shown relates to my adoption and the way it was handled. My birth mother was ordered to give me up for adoption and told, “If you don’t, don’t bother coming home.” For me, what I have been shown is that this caused a deep wound of abandonment, rejection, and feelings that I somehow didn’t deserve to exist at all.

A couple of times in my past, I asked God to annihilate my soul — something which I now understand God cannot do, as it goes against His nature of love. God cannot act contrary to His nature.

When He knitted my soul together, it was done with His love. Every piece of my soul was infused with God’s love. I was created by love to be loved by love itself. That love is God Himself — the same love that “so loved the world that He gave His only Son” (John 3:16), and the love that draws me into eternal life, which Jesus describes as knowing “the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent” (John 17:3).

The latter part of this life — its ultimate purpose — is the love of a relationship with God the Father, a God who wants a relationship with us, His creation. This is the relationship that John 17:3 points to: knowing God and Jesus Christ, which is eternal life.

Original sin describes the act of eating the fruit of the tree and the consequences of that choice: the loss of that relationship. It was a relationship that humanity could not bridge or fix by itself. It was God who took on human flesh whilst still God (the Hypostatic Union). And through Jesus’ victory on the cross, that relationship is now restored.

For me, this has been painful to get to this point. My adoption and the loss of my twin brother in utero have significantly wounded me. My ability to receive God’s love was so compromised that I believed I didn’t deserve to exist. God, in His loving patience with me, never gave up. His persistence with me is what spoke to those parts of me — those wounded parts firmly believing that I should never have existed at all. Not only that, but I felt undeserving of this love.

God, however, had another plan for me. For me, it is to come to know the depth of His love for me as His daughter. Even with my gender issues, He was not scared off. He kept coming for me.

As Jesus states, God goes looking for the one that is lost. Not only that, but He keeps looking and searching for that little lost one.

He has also shown me that He knows my depths. He knows me intimately, as only the One who created me can. He knows all my flaws, faults, and issues; nothing escapes Him. The darkest night is bright as day to Him. There is nothing in me that I can hide from Him.

Love and mercy are not only His name but His character as well. They reflect what He wants for me.

Physical death as opposed to spiritual death

28/01/2026

For a long time, as science and archaeology have shown that dinosaurs once existed—likely before humanity came along—one question I have always pondered is this: if the Bible teaches that death came into the world through what is now known as original sin, then why did they die?

For me, the answer lies in the distinction between physical death and spiritual death.

Physical death appears to have been part of the natural order for non-human creation prior to humanity’s creation.

Original sin caused a rupture in the relationship between God and humanity and, through that rupture, all of creation. This single act introduced spiritual death, suffering, brokenness, and the potential for things to be allowed to go wrong. All of creation shares in the Fall. Nothing is immune from the potential for suffering or for things to be allowed to go wrong. Even though animals and the rest of creation did not sin, they also share in the effects of this rupture.

Spiritual death is the separation from God caused by sin, which becomes eternal if not healed. As sinners, we cannot enter into God’s holy presence unless we are redeemed—and that redemption can only come through the Cross.

Humanity is unable, by its own power, to heal or redeem this separation from God.

It is only through Jesus’ death and resurrection that we can be saved. Through the hypostatic union—Jesus being fully God and fully human—and through His obedience to the Father’s will, redemption has been restored to all of humanity. We can now once again enter into the relationship that was ruptured by original sin.

Even though animals and the rest of creation did not sin, they also share in the effects of this rupture. Unjust suffering occurs even in rare or extraordinary circumstances. For example, a TV veterinarian once treated a one-year-old Labrador that was intersexed—a condition so rare that many professionals go their whole careers without seeing anything like it. Yet it occurred, and the dog experienced it through no fault of its own. This reminds us that creation is vulnerable and that suffering does not always follow human notions of fairness or merit. Rare or unique events like this underscore the reality that the natural world bears consequences it did not choose, revealing the depth and nuance of creation’s vulnerability after the Fall.

Reflection.

As I reflect, I see the depth of creation’s vulnerability and the mercy of God. Death and suffering are real, yet through Jesus, the separation that sin brings can be healed. Even in the world’s fragility, God’s love is present, redeeming, and restoring.

The Frequencies of My Heart

03/02/2026

One thing God is teaching me is that my heart spiritually can be like a gigantic radio receiver. I can tune it into many things.
As I go through my life, Jesus adjusts my receiver. Sometimes He will remove a station from my receiver. If I want to find it, I will have to consciously go and look for it, to tune into it.

The more I walk with Jesus, the more my heart gets attuned to His loving presence and loving truth for me. Some stations may feel impossible to listen to now—not because I am being forced, but because my heart has been tuned by Jesus. I am still free to choose, but the desire and attraction for certain words or habits naturally fade as His love fills me.

This is what my heart was made for: His love. Nothing else can meet the needs of my heart the way God’s love is meant to.

At the moment, my language issues—what I call 'potty mouth syndrome', or swearing—are what He is dealing with. For me, swearing has been part of who I am and my cultural awareness. That does not mean Jesus likes or accepts it—He does not.

Matthew 15:11, 18‑19 – Jesus says:

“It is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth. The things that come out of the mouth come from the heart, and these defile a person.”

As Matthew 15 reminds me, what flows out of my mouth reflects what is in my heart. God is reshaping the frequencies of my heart, so that the words I speak naturally flow from love and life rather than habit or culture.

James 3:5‑10 says:

“The tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts… a tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity… With the tongue we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, this should not be.”

Words carry weight. We can bless, curse, or tear down with our words. As I journey on with Jesus, His love is transforming me and gradually transforming the language of my heart.

I am learning that true freedom comes not from doing what I want, but from being so attuned to His love that what I want naturally aligns with what He desires for me. The frequencies of my heart are being fine-tuned, and I can trust that His love will guide every station.

19/02/2026
Original sin—what St. Augustine called ‘the original sin’—is the first sin in the Garden of Eden, when Adam and Eve ate the fruit God had told them not to. That choice changed everything: it broke our relationship with God, brought spiritual death and suffering into the world, and set up a reality where struggles, hardships, and issues carry their own unique character, like strings with their own flavor, and can appear for anyone in ways we can’t always predict. Just as potential energy can become kinetic energy, the latent possibilities for difficulty in life are always present, waiting to be realized in the unique ways each situation unfolds.

Welcome to Scholastica Teresa

The Divine Mercy. Jesus I trust in you.

My Spiritual Journey

Michael to Stacy

Adoption and Early Life

Bullying and Struggling with Identity

Crossdressing and Mental Health Struggles

The Suicide Attempts and Lack of Support

Conversion and Early Struggles

Self-Expression Through Hairdressing

Joining a Charismatic Community and Misguided Counsel

Marriage, Fatherhood, and ADHD Diagnosis

Finding My Birth Mother

The Spiritual Journey and Healing

Transitioning and Divine Support

Embracing God’s Plan and Personal Growth

Healing and Addictions

Revelation of My True Name

Mystical Marriage and Spiritual Transformation

A Journey of Grace and Transformation

Struggling with Smoking and Embracing Healing

Encounters with Jesus and the Power of Transformation

Mary’s Role in the Journey

Dreams, Visions, and Trust in God’s Guidance

Laments and Self-Rejection

Transitioning into Stacy: A Reclamation of the Soul

The Interplay Between Personal Agency and Divine Guidance

Marriage as a Spiritual Union

A Path of Revelation, Not Loss

The Testimony of Divine Fidelity

The name he gave me

The Name He Gave Me

Reflection — The Restoration of a Name

Why Scholastica Teresa?

The Name That Found Me – Why Scholastica Teresa

Reflection – “A Name Sealed in Heaven”

Closing Thought

My Consecration

My Consecration Call

Reflection – The Journey of Consecration

A Sacred Threshold

Elements of my Faith Journey

My Faith Journey: The Admiral’s Commission

Final Thoughts

Testimonies

My Smoking journey

Pa and Uncle Hilary

Pa and Uncle Hilary: A Journey of Mercy and Healing

Reflection – Love That Purifies Through Time

Final Reflection – Nothing Is Wasted in God

When Childhood Heroes Become Human

Gods love and Mercy for me

This Is Not Why I Made You

God Doesn’t Make Mistakes: A Witness of His Love

God Doesn’t Make Mistakes: A Witness of His Love

Embracing My Identity as God's Creation

Walking Through the Struggles with God

A Calling to Share the Truth

Gods Mercy

The Mercy of God’s Perfect Vision: Healing What We Cannot See

The Perfection of God’s Vision

A Reminder: Nothing is Hidden from God

A Vision of Purgatory: A Soul's Struggle

The Fire of Truth: A Soul's Healing

God Sees Everything: Mercy in the Light

The Mercy for All Souls: Beyond Redemption

Reconciliation Before Death: The Urgency of Healing

A Call to Full Healing

Divine Love

The Sacred Tension of Divine Love: Stark, Tender, and Overwhelming

The Starkness of God’s Love: Exposure and Purification

The Burning Light of Love: Exposing the Hidden Parts

Jesus’ Love: Intense and All-Consuming

Staying in the Sacred Union: Healing Through Love

Jesus the divine Gardener

The Parable of the Sower: Jesus the Divine Gardener

The Concrete: Hardness of Heart

The Weeds and Briars: Interference in Growth

The Rocks: Hidden Barriers

Crossovers and Growth of Issues in the Garden of Our Hearts

**2. Redemption required both God and humanity.**