The Inner Room: Where God Meets Us in the Hidden Places

How grief, healing, and a hidden season with God gave meaning to the name behind The Inner Room.

There are some things you name because you need a name.

And then there are things you name because the name carries a story.

The Inner Room is the latter.

It isn't simply the name of my coaching practice. It isn't a clever phrase I came up with while trying to build a brand.

It came from a season of my life when God was teaching me what it really means to meet Him in the hidden places.

“Go into your inner room.”

Matthew 6:6 says,

“But when you pray, go into your private room, shut your door, and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

The phrase “inner room” has always stood out to me.

It is a private place of communion with God.

A place where no one else is watching.

No one is applauding.

No one knows what is happening behind the closed door.

It is just you and your Father.

And I think Jesus was getting at something much deeper than simply telling us where to pray.

He was asking us to examine why we pray.

What is the motivation of our hearts?

Are we praying to be seen by people, or are we praying because we want to be seen by God?

Are we more concerned with how our faith looks from the outside, or with what is actually happening between us and the Father in the secret place?

Jesus tells His disciples to go into the room, close the door, and pray to their Father who is in secret.

In other words:

Come away from the noise.

Come away from the performance.

Come away from being seen.

Come be with Me.

And that invitation became very personal to me.

A Hidden Season

About two years ago, when our family moved farther south, I felt the Lord tell me that I was entering a hidden season.

At first, I didn't completely understand what that meant.

Because when we hear the word hidden, I think we can assume it means insignificant.

Invisible.

Forgotten.

Or even stuck.

But that's not what God was doing in me.

I wasn't being hidden because He had forgotten me.

I was being hidden because He was drawing me closer.

There were things that had been stirring in my heart for years. Things I knew God had placed in me, things I knew would eventually become public.

But I also knew I wasn't ready yet.

I had spent years learning about grief, healing, counseling, mindset, and the ways our thoughts shape our lives. I had the education. I had the tools. I could explain so many things to other people.

But God was inviting me into something that couldn't be learned simply by knowing more.

He wanted me to know Him more deeply.

So I went into the room.

Not literally every time.

But spiritually.

I began to understand that being hidden wasn't about removing myself from the world. It wasn't about becoming silent or burying what God had placed inside of me.

It was about allowing Him to deal with the things in my heart that could only be dealt with in private.

Before there could be something I could give publicly, there needed to be something God was doing privately.

Grief Will Take You into the Inner Room

I think this is one of the reasons the name has become so meaningful to me.

Because grief has a way of bringing you into rooms you never intended to enter.

There are parts of grief that happen in public.

The funeral.

The conversations.

The casseroles.

The condolences.

The anniversaries people remember.

And then there are the parts no one sees.

The moments when you close the door and finally let yourself cry.

The questions you don't know how to say out loud.

The disappointment you don't know what to do with.

The anger.

The silence.

The moments when you wonder where God is.

The prayers that don't sound polished or spiritual.

The days when you don't need an explanation, you just need to be held.

That is the inner room

And I have learned that healing often begins there.

Not when we finally have the right words.

Not when we have figured out why something happened.

Not when we have stopped grieving.

But when we are finally willing to come into the presence of God exactly as we are.

The Father Who Sees in Secret

There is something incredibly tender about the way Jesus describes God in this passage.

He calls Him Father.

Not simply Lord.

Not simply Savior.

Father.

And He tells us that our Father sees what happens in secret.

He sees the prayers no one else hears.

He sees the tears no one else knows about.

He sees the healing that is happening so slowly you sometimes wonder if anything is changing at all.

He sees the woman who is still grieving while everyone else seems to have moved on.

He sees the woman who loves God but is also disappointed.

He sees the woman who is trying to figure out who she is after loss changed everything.

He sees the woman who is tired of surviving and quietly wondering if she will ever feel like herself again.

He sees her.

And He isn't asking her to clean herself up before she comes into the room.

He's asking her to come.

Why The Inner Room

That is why, when I began putting language around what I had been carrying in my heart for years, The Inner Room was the only name that made sense.

Because this work was never meant to be about giving women another list of things they need to do to heal.

It was never meant to be about rushing grief.

Or finding a five-step formula for moving on.

And it certainly isn't about pretending that faith means you don't hurt.

It is about creating room.

Room to grieve.

Room to ask questions.

Room to bring disappointment to God.

Room to renew your mind.

Room to remember who you are.

Room to encounter Jesus in the places where you've felt the most lost.

And room to begin imagining that there could still be a life on the other side of what happened to you.

Not the life you would have chosen.

Not a life without the scar.

But a life that is still full of purpose, joy, hope, love, and the presence of God.

Before it became public, it had to become personal.

Looking back, I understand why God allowed The Inner Room to remain hidden for so long.

Because before I could invite other women into this space, I had to learn how to enter it myself.

I had to learn that I didn't always need to come to God with a solution.

I could come with a question.

I didn't always need to come with a lesson.

I could come with a tear.

I didn't have to approach Him as a servant trying to get everything right.

I could come as His daughter.

And maybe that's what the inner room really represents to me now.

Coming home.

Coming away from the noise and the expectations and the pressure to have it all together.

Closing the door.

Taking a breath.

And remembering that there is a Father who sees you there.

A Father who isn't intimidated by your grief.

A Father who can handle your questions.

A Father who doesn't ask you to rush through your pain.

A Father who is still with you in the middle of it.

This is The Inner Room.

And now, after years of carrying this quietly, I get to open the door.

The Inner Room is for the woman who has been changed by loss and isn't quite sure what comes next.

For the woman who loves Jesus but has questions she hasn't known where to put.

For the woman who has spent so long surviving that she has forgotten what it feels like to really live.

For the woman who wants to heal without pretending it didn't hurt.

For the woman who wants to know God not only as Savior and Lord, but as Father.

And for the woman who is ready to believe that getting your life back after loss doesn't mean getting your old life back.

Sometimes healing looks like discovering that there is still a life ahead of you.

A life you can step into with open hands.

A life where grief can have a place without having the whole space.

A life where joy can return without betraying the person you lost.

A life where your identity isn't defined only by what happened to you.

A life where you can say,

“This is not the end of my story.”

Because sometimes the deepest work God does in us happens where no one else can see it.

Behind the closed door.

In the quiet.

In the questions.

In the tears.

In the secret place.

In the Inner Room.

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If this message resonates with you, you are not alone in what you are carrying.

This is the first time I am announcing something new that I have carried in my heart for the past three year. The Inner Room coaching space.

The Inner Room was created as a sacred space for women who are navigating grief, identity, disappointment, and the deep questions that often surface in seasons of loss and longing. It is a place where you don’t have to rush your healing or hide your story, where both your faith and your feelings are welcomed before the Lord.

Through coaching, teaching, and spiritual formation, The Inner Room exists to help you reconnect with God in the places that feel tender, rebuild a sense of identity rooted in Christ, and learn how to hold your life with Him in honesty and hope.

If you find yourself in the tension described in these words, between joy and sorrow, faith and lament, gratitude and grief, I want to personally invite you to come closer. There is space for you here.

Click Here for more info!

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