Confessions, Questions, And The Mercy of God's Kindness

In the last couple of weeks I’ve had two prophetic dreams1. I’m a little hesitant to use that word but my reticense is more about you than me. Nobody likes to be misunderstood or mischaracterized, and in using that word—prophetic, I acknowledge that I risk both. But, I have had dreams like this before, and these two dreams had that same feel and weight. The familiarity of the how and what of them cannot be ignored, so I’m holding them close in conversation with God.

On New Year’s eve, I downloaded The Great Annual Examen printing it off and pasting it into my new journal. While I’ve worked through longer Examen practices before, this most recent review seems to have stoked and stirred up some deeper things that are demanding further attention. Old things, dead-but-not-buried things— so much so that I realized that the work I am actually doing right now is reminiscent of what I facilitated my Autopsy of a Season workshop.

What I know about God is that sometimes, you want to talk to God about this, but God wants to talk to you about that. I hadn’t intended on doing a post mortem around my work facilitating retreats for 12 years, but here we are.

I keep wanting to say, and in fact have said previously, that I don’t make New Year’s resolutions but the truth is some of the decisions I’ve made at the turning of this new year, and the decisions I’m making as a result of my reflections could ultimately be described as resolutions. Resolutions have a bad wrap, but maybe in times such as these, we ought to be making more resolutions—or firm decisions about what we will, and will not do, say, participate in, etc.

Whatever you want to call it, it’s work, and right now I’m deep in the tall weeds of confession, repentance, reflection and consideration. And apparently, prophetic dreams. So far, no regrets. Not even about (finally!!) de-activating my Facebook account (more on this later).

The Great Annual Examen asks really good questions, so perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised when a couple of them provoked some surprising reflections, but I confess, I didn't see this coming.

The question that set this unexpected conversation on fire was about naming a loss. 2025 was a crushing year for so many reasons beyond my control. Culturally, politically, relationally, professionally— things have been hard. I could name a hundred losses but the one that surfaced immediately without needing to think about it was the loss of the annual retreat and the space where I’d hosted Refine for all those years. I want to say that the transition in my work is good and timely, and it’s still been sad.

I’ve been saying a slow goodbye for months and I am ready to wrap it up and put it in the drawer of memories. God is doing new things. I am doing new things. So I think I was a little surprised that the conversation God and I have been having is more about the past, and less about the future, or even the present.

This weekend I was cleaning out an old drawer when I found an old note I’d written in 2013. This note had the name and info on it about a Benedictine Abbey I once dreamed of visiting after Ann Voskamp wrote about the Abbey’s cork floors in a blog post. I’d written that note when I was researching taking a personal retreat alone. Most of you probably know the story but for the uninitiated, the Readers Digest version is, that I never went to the Benedictine Abbey because through a series of undeniably God-ordained encounters and events, God led me on a wild journey of hosting a single retreat for women, that I ended up doing on repeat for the next 11 years. The key points are: I wanted a retreat, God had other plans, and my life has never been the same.

When I found this note in my drawer, like some kind of cinematic moment, memories of the beginning of what would become Refine {the retreat}, and all the retreats in between the first and the final came flooding into my mind. The remembering has provoked revelations.

Confessions.

Repentance.

I have had the privilege and responsibility of being in the holy space of the transformative work of the Spirit for years and I have dreamed dreams and seen wonders and experienced things that defy explanation. I have been left like Zachariah, muted by the Lord’s words, and have danced wild in worship like David (though, with my clothes on!) I’ve watched women run towards God, and others outright reject His embrace, and as a facilitator, a door-holder and the host, I’ve wondered what my responsibility has been in any of it.

Kierkegaard famously said that while we don’t live life in reverse, it is best understood by backwards2. If this is true (and I believe it is) taking time to consider how and where God has been at work, and the ways we’ve participated (or not) in His invitations feels too weighty to ignore. It is our work to do, but it isn’t just about us.

A friend and I were talking about the way the choices of others affect us, and how we’re trying to teach this reality to our own kids as they set about making choices about how they want to live in the world. Reminding them that they don’t live in a bubble feels like good work, particularly in a culture that is uber fixated on the “rights” of the individual. I don’t know why this is so hard for us to remember, we who claim to be members of the “One Body”, but when I think about the work of reflection I want to stand on a soapbox and shout about the reasons we ought to make and take the time to do it. It’s not just about me! It’s not just about you! My unhealth affects you and everyone I come into contact with. Your unhealth impacts those you come into contact with. Why do we act like this is only true when we have a cold or a stomach bug? We are living in a time where we can actively see the disintegration of a culture that is too distracted, unwilling, or disinterested in the deep work of pause and reflect.

Boring ahead into a new season without accounting for where we’ve been, or what we’ve done, and how we’ve done it is foolishness. We have our reasons for resistance, but few, if any, qualify as “good reasons”.

{Stepping down from soapbox}

Here’s my coming clean:

The first Refine {the retreat} was 24 women in a single conference room at a nearby state lodge. I made the room pretty with a few simple table decorations but by all future measures of Refine retreats, that first one was generous in its simplicity. The experience of God in that single room over the two-days was life-altering and it wasn’t because it was so physically beautiful or bougie or instagramable. What made that particular retreat what it was the specific, un-planable ways the Spirit moved through that room and the women attending, and even the staff attending to us.

The next retreat and all subsequent retreats were hosted at a retreat house that was already beautiful and we made it more so with the decor and abundance of fresh flowers and treats we added to match the vision of abundance I had in mind for the women. Everywhere you looked, we had curated beauty and abundance because I wanted the women on retreat to FEEL cared for and seen and loved. I don’t think this was wrong, but it was a choice. It was a hundred choices, and the last retreat looked nothing like the first in so many ways and that feels significant.

As I’ve been sitting with God and my memories, I am realizing that some of this was growth, some of it was development, some of this was strategy and some of it were mistakes, and right now, I’m discerning which is which. I’m asking questions like:

How did the choices I made impact the women who either attended or wanted to attend my retreats? What responsibility do I bear for the ways I made those experiences accessible and inaccessible, intentionally or unintentionally? Where did I lose sight of what God was doing and go my own way? Where did I fail to live up to my own said beliefs and convictions? Where did my people-pleasing tendencies interfere with doing the work? Where did I bless? Where did I harm? What do I need to know about the work I’ve done that will help me to work better going forward?

I don’t have answers to all of these questions but I am asking them, and listening.

God is kind, but he’s not soft. In kindness he takes us firmly by the hand and leads us into a radical life-change.

(Romans 2:4 The Message)

The specific experiences and choices that God is bringing to mind in my own reflection have felt in the strangest way like a mercy. When we have been lowered to our faces it is because the Spirit is bending our knees and that means that God is near—so near. God’s kindness is intended to lead you to repentance (Romans 2:4).

God’s kindness has been all around me this season. Even in the hardest moments, I have known God’s nearness—even in my dreams. Speaking of which, here are the two prophetic dreams I have had back to back recently:

In the first dream I had, I discovered a whole room in my house that I had forgotten existed. In my dream, the door to this room was closed, and when I opened it, I realized I had forgotten this particular space and all the potential it offered. The room was in need of repair, it was dirty and a bit run down, but it shone with potential and in my dream I knew that the discover of this forgotten space was a gift.

In the second dream, I dreamed that I was pregnant. And in my dream I also somehow knew the dream was not about an actual pregnancy. It’s always interesting to me when while in a dream, you are aware of metaphor. (This may seem like a regular old dream to some, but I know what I know and this is not an ordinary dream for me. This dream carries (pun intended) a deeper meaning.)

I’m not asking for your interpretation of these dreams, because I”m pretty sure I know what they are about, but if you sense a nudging to share something, please do. I am open to hearing and will hold your thoughts in prayer.

I realize this is a meandering post, so if you’ve made it this far, congrats, you! Thanks for hanging in until the end. I pray there’s some little seed here that serves you.

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And hey, speaking of space for reflection and doing the deep work, a few of us women are gathering for a small, soulful 2-day retreat here in Ohio next month. You can join us if that sounds like something that you need. (One note, this is an adult women’s event, ages 16+).