Silence Doesn't Make Hell Tremble

Yesterday, I got a phone call from my daughter.

She called me in confidence about someone she deeply loves—someone who had recently walked through the pain of an abortion. Her voice was calm and full of compassion. “Mom,” she said, “I’m telling you this because I know you’ll understand, and I need your thoughts.”

I’m thankful that I’ve had vulnerable moments with my daughters—times when I’ve shared truths about my life that I once vowed to keep hidden. Those conversations weren’t easy, but they were necessary. And yesterday’s phone call confirmed why.

As she spoke, emotions I hadn’t felt in years rose to the surface. My heart broke for this young woman because I knew exactly what she was feeling. I knew the fear. I knew the decision. And I knew the aftermath.

Having had two abortions myself, I know firsthand how the enemy plays his cards. He promises control, relief, and escape—but what he delivers is bondage. And as my daughter shared this girl’s story and asked me for resources, there was only one I could give her—the one that changed my life. The one that helped me find forgiveness, healing, and freedom from two of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made: Surrendering the Secret.

For so long, I’ve wanted to protect this part of my life. I would share my story only when it felt safe—when I knew grace would meet me in the room. But lately, I’ve felt something I can’t ignore. A stirring in my spirit that feels like a holy push to lay down the safety.

Because this story isn’t mine to guard. It’s God’s story to redeem. And with Him—it’s already safe.

Hell doesn’t tremble when we stay silent or play it safe. It trembles when we speak boldly—when we take the very things that once held us in bondage and use them to set others free.

As my daughter spoke, I remembered the weight of those years—the fear, the panic, the shame, the tears that seemed endless. But then, I remembered something else.I remembered grace.I remembered forgiveness.

After my second abortion, I knew I couldn’t keep living the same way. I was tired—tired of chasing love that never stayed, tired of trying to fill a void that only God could fill. So I made a vow: if God would forgive me, I would never have children again. I didn’t feel worthy of them. I thought that was my punishment.

So I made sure I wouldn’t get pregnant again. I took birth control religiously, determined to never face that kind of pain again.

Then I met my husband—a man who loved me fully, purely, and without conditions. But when he asked me to stop taking the pill, my heart broke. I had made a vow to God, and I didn’t believe it could be undone. That promise nearly tore our marriage apart.

Then one Sunday, the church announced a new women’s Bible study called Surrendering the Secret. I had no idea how much it would change me. That study took me back into the locked rooms of my past—the ones I thought I’d sealed forever—and met me there with mercy. It was through Surrendering the Secret that I finally understood what real freedom feels like.

And that’s why I’m writing this now. Because God doesn’t waste a single thing—not our pain, not our shame, not even our silence.

That young woman, her baby, and my daughter were the tools God used to remind me of the boldness He placed in me long ago. I am a force for His Kingdom—not because I’m fearless, but because I’ve seen what happens when fear wins.

I don’t just want to be healed; I want to help others find healing. Not just to be forgiven, but to walk with others into forgiveness. Because silence doesn’t heal—it isolates.

This morning, I woke up at 6:30 with that same stirring in my spirit—the unmistakable nudge of the Holy Spirit whispering, “Go back to that book.”

So I did.

I reached out to Surrendering the Secret to ask about the next leader training. and sign up. I don’t know all that God is going to do with this, but I know this: I’m done playing it safe. I’m done protecting what God has already redeemed.

Maybe this is where the next chapter begins.

Because hell trembles when a woman who’s been set free finally starts to speak.

My Prayer:

Lord, thank You for the way You turn our deepest pain into purpose.

Thank you for never wasting a single part of our story. I pray for every woman carrying silent shame today—let Your grace meet her right where she is. Give me the courage to lead, the compassion to listen, and the faith to obey the call You’ve placed on my life.

In Jesus’ name, amen.