Today I was sitting with the manuscript for At His Feet, working through final edits, reading words that were written months ago in quiet moments with Jesus.

And suddenly, I found myself thinking:

“Lord… this is really good.”

Not because I’m a great writer.

Not because I’m publishing another book.

Not because the editing is almost done.

But because every page reminds me of Him.

As I sat there reading, I realized something. This book feels different than anything I’ve written before.

Redeemed was born from rescue.

Renewed was born from healing.

But At His Feet was born from intimacy.

And that’s when it hit me…

Maybe this book feels like home because of everything Jesus has done to bring me here.

There was a time when I wasn’t sitting at His feet.

I was reaching for Him from a place of brokenness.

Reaching through trauma.

Reaching through addiction.

Reaching through shame.

Reaching through grief.

Reaching through fear.

Reaching through confusion.

Like the woman with the issue of blood, I spent years reaching through crowds, desperate for healing, desperate for freedom, desperate for hope.

And every single time I reached for Jesus, He was there.

When I was drowning in addiction, He was there.

When I was carrying the weight of abortions and regret, He was there.

When I felt forgotten, He was there.

When I walked through miscarriages, heartbreak, and seasons I thought might break me, He was there.

When I had no idea who I was, He was there.

When I was too tired to stand, He was there.

When I suffered a stroke and faced another unexpected battle, He was there.

Always there.

Faithful.

Patient.

Kind.

Steady.

Never once letting go.

And maybe that’s why this book means so much to me.

Because it’s no longer the story of a woman desperately trying to get to Jesus.

It’s the story of a woman who finally realizes she can simply sit with Him.

No striving.

No performing.

No proving.

Just being.

Just worshipping.

Just resting in the presence of the One who carried her through it all.

As I read these pages today, I wasn’t just reading a manuscript.

I was reading a testimony.

Page after page of God’s faithfulness.

Chapter after chapter of His kindness.

A reminder that the greatest gift Jesus has given me isn’t a ministry, a platform, a book, or even a testimony.

It’s Himself.

And after all these years, that’s still what I want most.

Not more success.

Not more recognition.

Not more accomplishments.

Just Jesus.

Maybe that’s why At His Feet feels like home.

Because after all the wandering, all the striving, all the reaching through crowds…

I finally found the better thing.

And His name is Jesus.