I don’t know about you ladies, but I had reached a place where the noise was just… loud.
Not just outside-loud. Inside-loud. The kind of loud that lives behind your eyes and hums in your chest even when the house is quiet. Notifications. Other people’s highlights. The constant pulling and stretching and being available for everyone and everything… except the one thing that actually matters most.
So at the end of November 2025, I did something that felt a little bit terrifying and a whole lot necessary.
I switched it all off.
No Facebook. No phone calls. No messages. No peeking at anyone else’s life, activity, drama or celebrations. No notifications telling me what the world was doing. Just me. And Andre. And God. And the most honest two months of my life.
I didn’t come back until the 1st of February 2026.
And I am not the same woman who left.
Here’s what I thought would happen: I thought I’d rest for a few days, feel refreshed, maybe read a few books, and come back recharged and ready to go. You know – a little spiritual top-up. That’s what I was planning.
“But I have this against you: you have abandoned the love you had at first.”
Revelation 2:4 ESV
But God had other plans.
Because when you remove all the noise… You start to hear things differently. Not because you weren’t talking to God before. Not because your faith wasn’t real. But because when it’s just the two of you – truly just the two of you – the conversation changes.
It deepens.
It slows down.
You stop rushing through your quiet time to get to the rest of the day, and you actually… linger. And in the lingering, God gets to say the things He’s been waiting to say while you were busy being everywhere else. I have crossed so many floods with my Father. So many storms where I held onto God. My love for God is the easiest thing in my life – the most real thing I have.
But even real love can get… crowded out.
And what I discovered in the silence is that I had let the world take up so much space that even my most treasured relationship – the one with my Dad, my Saviour, my Abba Father – had been getting the leftovers of my attention instead of the first fruits of it.
That stung a little, if I’m honest.
“But I have this against you: you have abandoned the love you had at first.” Revelation 2:4 ESV
Jesus wasn’t speaking those words to me in an accusatory way. It felt more like… a gentle hand on my face. A “come back, my girl.” A reminder that the door was wide open and He had been waiting, patient and steady, for me just to slow down long enough to walk back through it.
So I did.
Those first few weeks of silence were uncomfortable. I’m not going to pretend they weren’t. When you’re not filling every spare moment with someone else’s noise, you have to sit with yourself. And sitting with yourself – really sitting – means God gets to sit with you too.
Not the version of you that shows up for church.
Not the version of you that knows all the right Scriptures.
The actual you. The tired one.
“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.” Psalm 139:23 NIV
I used to read that verse and feel inspired. During those months of quiet, I read it and felt… seen. Because I was finally still enough to allow God to actually look at me. Not just look at the polished parts. All of it.
And what happened next… I want to take you there, slowly, over the coming weeks.
This is why March feels like the right time to launch something I’ve been sitting on for a while now.
Coffee, Grace and Honest Talk.
Because I think a lot of us are tired of performing. Tired of the rushed quiet times and the half-present prayers and the sense that God is somehow far away when really… we’ve just stopped being still long enough to find Him.
I want us to pull up a chair. Pour something warm. And just… be honest.
About what the silence taught me. About what it sounds like when God whispers. About those moments when He doesn’t whisper at all – He roars – and your whole chest caves in with the weight of His nearness. About finding Him in the ordinary Tuesday moments that nobody photographs or celebrates. The hanging washing. The quiet walk. The sunset you almost missed because you were scrolling.
He’s in all of it, ladies. Every single ordinary bit.
We’ve just stopped noticing.
So that’s what we’re going to do together this March – and beyond. We’re going to slow down enough to notice. To look. To listen. To have the kind of time with God that actually changes something.
Not because we’ve got it all figured out. But because He’s worth every quiet, unhurried moment we can give Him. “Be still, and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10 NIV
He said to be still first. The knowing comes after. I learned that the hard way – and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Pull up a chair, girlfriend. The coffee’s on.
Coffee, Grace and Honest Talk with Gwen from Anchored in Hope
