A 3-day Silent Retreat at Cherimoya Farm

Day 1 Reflection

Reading Parker J. Palmer’s Let Your Life Speak felt like reading my own journey of rediscovery. Palmer’s honesty about his depression, his search for vocation, and his realization that calling is found by listening inwardly — not striving outwardly — deeply resonated with me.

For many years, I served full-time in the church, from 1999 to 2007. Ministry was my life, my joy, and my identity. I gave everything I had, believing that serving God meant constant giving, never resting, and never saying no. I loved what I did, but over time, the pace and pressure slowly wore me down. When burnout came, it was devastating. What followed were seven long years of depression, marked by hospital stays, panic attacks, and the painful sense that I had lost both my calling and myself.

During that dark season, I often felt disqualified — as if my brokenness had silenced the voice of God in my life. But over time, I began to realize that perhaps God was not silent; I had just been listening to the wrong voices — the voices of performance, perfection, and people-pleasing.

It was through Living Waters and later Spiritual formation that I slowly learned to listen again — not to the noise of expectations, but to the quiet truth of who God says I am. Like Parker Palmer, I began to see that vocation is not something we achieve; it is something we receive when we live truthfully from the depths of our being. My life itself began to “speak” — through my pain, my longing, and my slow surrender to God’s timing.

In the silence of recovery, I discovered that my depression was not a punishment, but an invitation. It stripped away all the false layers of identity until only what was true remained. I started to see that even my weakness had meaning — that my broken places were the very spaces where God’s love could enter and heal.

Today, as I walk with others through the ministry of Living Waters, helping them find healing and restoration, I see how God has turned my pain into compassion. My calling now flows not from striving but from authenticity — from a heart that has been broken and made whole again.

Palmer’s words echo in me: “Before you tell your life what you intend to do with it, listen for what it intends to do with you.” I am learning to listen — to trust that my life, shaped by grace and pain, has something sacred to say.

I no longer measure my worth by how much I do for God, but by how much I let Him live through me. And in that quiet surrender, I find peace — knowing that even the years I thought were lost were, in truth, years when God was teaching me how to let my life speak.

Day 2 Reflection

“Recall the things you feared in the past. What decisions did you make out of a lack of awareness? Where did this bring you? How did the grace of God bring you back on track to the journey designed for you?”

Looking back on my life, I recognize that many of my early decisions were shaped by fear rather than awareness or faith. Two recurring fears have significantly influenced my choices: the fear of lack and the fear of sudden attack. These fears stemmed from past traumatic experiences that left me anxious about my safety and uncertain about the future. Instead of discerning carefully and trusting in God’s guidance, I often acted out of self-protection and a desire for security.

One defining moment in my life was my decision regarding my career path. I originally desired to become a lawyer because I was deeply drawn to justice and advocacy. However, when my sister told me there were no successful women lawyers then, I allowed fear and discouragement to shape my decision. Lacking confidence and awareness of my true calling, I chose to pursue Optometry instead. Although I completed the course and have continued to practice once a week, I initially felt unfulfilled because I knew it was not the direction I truly wanted to take. This decision, made out of fear and conformity, led me to a long season of questioning my purpose. I often asked God why He allowed me to take this path. For years, I did not see how my profession could align with His greater plan for my life. However, over time, I began to realize that God’s grace has a way of redeeming every detour. Even through Optometry, He taught me to “see” in a deeper sense — to look beyond the physical and into the spiritual and emotional needs of people. My encounters with patients became quiet opportunities to listen, empathize, and reflect the compassion of Christ.

Furthermore, God has been gently healing the fears that once controlled me — such as my fear of heights and my fear of riding in a car due to past traumatic experiences. Through spiritual formation and healing, I have learned that God’s love and presence are greater than any fear. His perfect love casts out fear and restores peace in the places where I once felt vulnerable.

In hindsight, I can now see that even the decisions I made out of fear were not wasted. God, in His grace, used every experience to prepare me for the journey He designed. He patiently redirected my steps, deepened my awareness, and reminded me that my worth and purpose are found not in what I do, but in who I am in Him. His grace continues to lead me back to His intended path — one marked by healing, awareness, and trust in His perfect will.

Day 3 Reflection

“Have you ever felt the Lord asking you to stand up for yourself?

You know you are God’s beloved and because of that you are to be treated with respect. God wants you to be freed from your shackles.”

Lately, I sense the Lord gently asking me to stand up for myself—not out of anger or pride, but out of a deep awareness of who I am in Him.

Recently, someone corrected me—told not to explain, only to say, sorry. I welcome rebuke and correction because God sometimes speaks through people, but this time it triggered something deep in me, that same old feeling of being silenced and small. I know the person means well, but is there a better way to correct without crushing someone’s spirit? When the focus is on what I failed to do and not on what I have faithfully carried, it’s disheartening. I don’t want my motivation to serve to come from fear of not measuring up and guilt.

Now, I feel tired, demotivated and uncertain if I can keep enduring. Yet, I also sense God whispering, “Not yet.”

He seems to be saying that this season is one of refining, not rejecting. He is rebuilding boundaries in me, teaching me to serve from peace, not pressure; from calling, not compulsion.

My spiritual formation journey is helping me to quiet down, confess and repent, forgive, and remember that my worth is not measured by performance or pay, but by being His beloved daughter.

I heard Him say, “Stand firm, not because you are strong, but because I am in you.” Standing up for myself doesn’t mean fighting back in the world’s way; it means speaking the truth in love, setting healthy boundaries, and refusing to let shame or fear define me. I realize now that when I stay silent when I am not treated with grace, something inside me agrees with the lie that I am less than what God says I am. But when I choose to stand in truth, I honor His image in me. This is part of my healing journey—learning that freedom comes when I no longer let others’ treatment dictate my worth. God is freeing me from the shackles of people-pleasing, from the habit of shrinking myself to make others comfortable.

My takeaway: I am God’s beloved. My voice matters. Standing up for myself is not rebellion—it’s honoring God’s image in me. It’s saying “yes” to the truth that I am worthy of love, honor, respect, and freedom in Christ.