Chapter 3 Devotional Breakdown: When God Tells You to Write It Down
Hey girlfriend đ Welcome back to From Shadows to Light, where weâre diving into Chapter 3: âEverything I Write Comes to Pass.â This chapter gets raw and real as River faces down spiritual warfare, wrestles with imposter syndrome, and encounters a man named Jeremiah who might just be part of Godâs plan. Youâll feel seen, stirred, and inspired to write the vision God placed on your heartâbecause your story matters. Letâs step into purpose together, one journal entry at a time.
Valerie Beals
5/23/202511 min read


Chapter 3: Everything I Write Comes to Pass
River sat at her kitchen slash office table, coffee cooling beside her, her journal open to a fresh page. Today, she was filled with a raw, almost electric sense of purpose she hadnât felt in a long time. Over the years since she dedicated her entire existence to Yahweh, she hasnât had to force the dayâs events. The only things that end up on her calendar are all things October related. As River sat at her desk, her journal balanced on top of her lap, because the space was too small to have everything evened out, her mind drifted. She was an introvert by nature, someone who never felt the need to be out in the world making herself known. To her, the quiet solitude of her apartment was a sanctuary. Leaving the house for something as ordinary as doing laundry was enough of a task, never mind the idea of making herself visible on a stage in front of a crowd. She looked down at her journal, thoughts swirling between doubts and the courage she clung to every day.
It wasnât just the crowd that bothered her. Being an introvert was one thing, but in the quiet, alone, she often found herself in a relentless, unseen battle. River had grown to recognize the true enemy that crept in the shadows of her mind, whispering the lies of failure, unworthiness, and doubt. It was a constant skirmish with Satan himself, who whispered too often, trying to masqueraded as her own voice. Trying to cast shadows over her confidence. She could almost hear him, slipping into the quiet of her thoughts, sowing doubt and distrust, convincing her that God had turned His back on her. Never. No matter what sheâve done in the past, Paulâs words in Ephesian ring true as the rest of the bible.
She shook her head, refocusing on the page. Many people donât even consider how much of âtheir thoughtsâ actually belong to the defeated king of Hell, she mused to herself. How often had she been pulled into believing those thoughts, the ones that said she was too small, too flawed, too unworthy to speak of God? She was sure of one thingâSatan was a full-time job, tirelessly crafting his art of sabotage, especially when it came to silencing those who know their authority and are walking in their living testimony. Those who know they are a child of the Most High and are called to shine while spreading the Gospel.
Today, though, she felt something different. This internal battle was tiring, yes, but she felt a spark. She could sense the quiet strength that Yahweh had given her, a confidence she couldnât fully explain. As she closed her journal, River felt a wave of calm, but there was a small, nagging practical problem: the conference was in just a few days, and she didnât have a single outfit that wasnât either worn out or faded. And, thanks to her freelance income being inconsistent at best, buying a new anything wasnât an option. She had just enough for the essentials, meaning anything October related - and that was that. She learned a long time ago, donât worry about the provision of tomorrow, the Lord will provide as He promised in Exodus. River use to put all her energy into trying to make a great name for herself, someone who will be remembered, a footprint on Earth. Then she came across Myron Goldenâs Youtube Channel and everything changed. His way of explaining and deciphering the Bible was unlike anything taught before. Dr. Myron said, donât waste your energy making your name great. Just do great, just keep your principals, just do what you promised to do and in return your name will be great.
A glimmer of hope came when she remembered a couple of âfancyâ tops sheâd buried somewhere in her closet. With a resigned sigh, she gathered up her laundry basket and made her way to the nearby laundromat, mentally promising herself that whatever she wore, sheâd rock it with confidence.
There was purpose here, a reason she was being nudged to step out and make her voice heard, no matter how hard the enemy tried to keep her hidden. Keep her from stepping into her divine purpose. âNot today Satan,â said out loud. Looking at the clock, seeing that it was already after 10, she loaded her trunk with her two hampers and headed to the laundromat on the Danforth.
River pushed through the laundromatâs squeaky glass doors, the sound of humming dryers and the hum of fluorescent lights washing over her. There was no better scent than cleaning products, her inner OCD thoughts agreed. She picked a machine near the back, where it was a bit quieter, and started sorting through her laundry. While the machine whirred to life, she sank into one of the hard plastic chairs and pulled out her journal to go over her speech notes. What was she going to speak about? What made her testimony relatable to this group of women, she thought. How do I decide which one? Then she remembered and heard Dad whisper, âlean not on your own understanding,â Proverbs 3:5-6. She thanked Him and was glad that she had a personal road map attached to her spirit.
âYou could make a real difference,â she thought, her pen frozen mid-sentence. Your words might be the very thing some woman out there needs to break free from her own doubts.
Just then, Jeremiahâs deep, rumbling voice broke her from her thoughts. He was standing over her, tall and steady, as though he had always been there, like an anchor.
âLost in thought?â he asked, his eyes filled with a gentle curiosity.
Without looking up, momentarily thrown off, before giving a faint smile. âYou could say that. Seems like the enemyâs always trying to sneak in where he doesnât belong.â Wow, that was unexpected, did I just say that to a complete stranger. Eager to put the outspoken thoughts behind her, she continued in her journal. Now she really had no intentions of looking up. Could this day get any more transparent.
It felt as though a divine current was flowing through her, urging her to writeâno, to declare. Inspired by the Book of Habakkuk, she picked up her pen and began.
As she wrote, River thought of the Prophet Habakkuk, how he had been led to record his own vision and heartache over the iniquities he witnessed. She felt that same ache for the world she saw around herâthe injustices, the burdens that women carried, unspoken and unseen, every single day. Yahweh seemed to be whispering encouragement to her through every verse: Write your vision down, for it will come to pass.
With each word, she felt more certain that her desires and dreams were not hers aloneâthey were her purpose.
There was such a long pause, I almost forgot there were even any words exchanged between us. I felt him nod, âThatâs his game. But you know, when God calls us, itâs almost like a beacon. You get stronger, but so do the attacks.â
River took in his words, feeling their weight. âSometimes I feel like itâs more than I can handle, you know? But... I also know that maybe itâs not even about me. Maybe itâs about something much bigger. I know that in his twisted mind, he believes that if he takes me out somehow itâll shift and tilt the game in his favour. I know how egotistic that sounds, but hey a wise woman goes against her spirit, especially the sound of her Fatherâ Did I, yep. I just did it again. My Yahweh, what is going on with my mouth today, itâs like it has the case of diarrhoea overload. But I have to admit, it truly is a relief to just openly speak of Father and scripture without the listener getting annoyed or secretly calling me a Jesus freak. Mind you, thereâs totally nothing wrong with being a Jesus freak because if Iâm going to be anything itâs sure going to be for Jesus. If Iâm going to be a freak, itâll definitely be a freak for JC. Iâve lost friends, heavens, even family (but theyâll never admit it). Iâve lost followers because I chose the Lord.
Thatâs when she felt itâa quiet, yet powerful presence. Being an empath, she learned to silence the emotions (but never in public, never where thereâs a possibility of danger). Definitely chopping this up for surgery later. Iâve been in survivor mode since I was, well since forever and I learned that analysing specifics in public takes away from my immediate surveillance of my surrounds. If it was an immediate danger than Brain Hospital it goes. I wanted to believe everyone had a stronger pull to good than evil, but after 40 years- itâs the complete opposite. But, I still have faith that theyâll choose the right path. A girlâs gotta dream and pray. But this does not explain the odd sense of release and calm she felt. Get it together girl, someoneâs talking to you, at least nod like youâre listening. She looked up to see him: a man towering well over six feet. A delectable, 6â5 to be exact, built like heâd walked straight off a battlefield. He had that âbeen through itâ air about him, something about the way he held himself with a calm but undeniable intensity. Yep, yep, yep, yep, yep (Ducky from the Land Before Timeâs voice rung through my head). His skin was a rich caramel, and his eyes, grey and twinkling, seemed to spark with a curious light as they met hers. Salt and pepper hair (more salt than pepper) escaping the braids at his temple. A full mouth turned into a slow, easy smile as he inclined his head in greeting. His voice, deep and honeyed with a husky rasp, washed over her as he said, âMind if I take this seat?â
River blinked and then her eyes seemed to be in a race to see which one can blink the most in the moment. She had to shut them tight, just to get them to slow down. Angels, she wasnât expecting that AT ALL, taken off guard, but after she remembered she had a voice and that NOW was the best time to use it -smiled back with a subtle nod. âSure, go ahead. Not much real estate here.â
He chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling, and set down his own basket next to hers. Riverâs pulse quickened. Ohhh I can listen to that sound for the rest of my life. Wow, girl. Slow down and tighten those panties up. There was something about his words, the way he looked at her, that made her feel seen, understood and surprisingly calm. River had always felt uneasy and in a constant fight or flight mode around men. And for the first time in a long time, she didnât feel like she had to make light of things. She just felt⌠safe.
âNameâs Jeremiah,â he said, sticking out a hand, large and calloused, but gentle.
âRiver,â she replied, feeling the firmness of his handshake.
âYou come here often?â he teased lightly, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. His voice was smooth, and every r rolled with a quiet confidence that seemed to melt the walls around her guarded heart.
She laughed, a low, surprised sound. âOh, yaâknow, itâs the spot to be at, right? High-end, bustling social scene and all.â
He laughed with her, and she noticed the glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. But there was more than thatâa depth to his gaze, as though he could see past the sarcasm and right into the core of who she was. It was unnerving, but something about it was comforting, too.
âSo, River, do you always carry that journal around? Seems important,â he noted, nodding towards the notebook on her lap.
âYou could say that,â she said with a small smile, glancing down at it. âIâm aâŚ( she was about to say writer, but decided on author⌠just felt more âwriteâ she added the afterthought with a chuckle) Iâm an author. Or, well, Iâm designed to be. But this⌠this is more than that. Itâs⌠itâs like my conversations and writerâs road map from God.â
There was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. âAh, the Book of Habakkuk. 'Write the vision; make it plain.' Youâve got purpose.â
Riverâs eyebrows shot up in surprise. It wasnât every day you met someone who could casually quote scripture with that kind of depth. AND look like that.
âYou know your scriptures,â she replied, both impressed and intrigued.
âIâve been known to crack open a bible here and there,â he answered with a wink, sitting back in his chair. âSome verses stay with you, especially the ones about justice and vision. Sounds like youâre carrying something big there.â
Riverâs walls came down just a little. âItâs⌠itâs a lot to carry sometimes. I feel like Iâm supposed to share my story, but sometimes the words get tangled up, you know?â
Jeremiah nodded, his gaze softening. âSounds like youâre meant to carry it. People need to hear from someone whoâs walked through fire. They need hope, they crave for faith. But they get stuck in translation, they get stuck in the thought process, never truly acting on it. They want to hear from someone, especially from someone who knows what itâs like to fight their way through.â Jeremiahâs gaze softened, his voice low and steady. â Itâs about all the people who need to hear what you have to say. Those words? (Looking down at my journal). Theyâre not just yoursâtheyâre yours to share and spread. And He doesnât call the equipped; He equips the called.â Oooohh child, if I could jump up and scream Amen, (but I think I already made enough âimpressionsâ for one day). âSeems like you missed your calling, you should hang up the GQ Magazines and start preaching.â âGQ aye,â he said as he raised his eyebrow with a sexy ass smirk. Mumbling to myself, mane this diarrhea mouth, needs a plug.
She let out a slow breath, the words settling into her spirit. She wasnât alone in this fight. The doubts and whispers would come, but Yahweh had given her the strength to silence them, to turn her thoughts toward Him, to declare victory over her mind.
As their clothes spun in the washers, they continued talking, each word peeling back another layer. He told her about his recent move from Chicago and his new position at the East York division. And when he talked about his family, his values, and how much he valued resilience, she realised there was much more to him than just his strength and strikingly good looking presence.
After what felt like only a few minutes, the washers dinged, and as he moved to transfer his clothes to the dryers, she gathered up her wet pile, dumped it into the hamper (sheâll hang dry these at home, she may not be able to pay for them to be dry cleaned, but hanging is free) and made her way to the backdoor. He grinned as he stuffed a handful of darks into the dryer, casting her a playful look.
âGuess Iâll be seeing you at the conference then, Ms. Writer,â he said, giving her a wink that sent her stomach flipping in a way she hadnât felt in ages.
River took a step towards the door and was caught off guard. âYou, um⌠youâre going?â
He shrugged, his grin widening. âWouldnât miss it for the world.â
As she strolled out, her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders and that easy confidence. Part of her wanted to brush it off, chalk it up to a random meeting, but another part of her knew Yahweh worked in mysterious ways. And as she gathered her things, her mind wandered to her journal, her vision, and the question that echoed in her thoughts.
Was it possible this meeting was part of a bigger plan? As if to answer her question, she heard Fatherâs voice âFor I know the thoughts I have for you daughter, thoughts to prosperâŚâ Thatâs my Dad, great sense of humour and nope it was not lost on me that his name was Jeremiah (29:11) that He spoke those words to. Thanks dad.
âAlright, Yahweh,â she murmured, her voice a soft promise. âIf Youâre guiding me to share my story, to lift up these women, Iâll do it. Iâm putting it all on You to provide for me.â
For the first time in a long time, River actually felt ready. Faith it, tilâ you make it.
As always Girlfriend, it was a pleasure sharing with you. See You Next Week Friday
Love always,
Val
Previous Chapters


Welcome to Our Virtual Christian Book Club!
As a member, youâll receive early access to each chapter one week before our group discussionâplenty of time to read, reflect, and connect.
This is a beautiful space to share your love for Christian fiction, grow in faith, and support fellow authors and readers on their journey.
Thank you for joining us
Policies
Privacy policy
Terms and conditions Refund Policy
Let's talk
valerie@thefaithfulentrepreneur.store
+647-578-6078

