Some wounds go quiet for years—until the right silence, the wrong glance, or an unanswered message triggers a familiar ache. For me, that ache has always come back to one thing: being ignored. I don’t always see it coming. But when I feel unheard—especially by those I love the most—I still wrestle with the same old lie: My words don’t matter. I don’t matter.
Writing The Reframe Principle wasn’t about showing off a healed life. It was about holding up a mirror—one cracked by childhood, betrayal, and shame—and trusting Jesus to show me a better reflection. Throughout the book, I laid out my three core triggers: being ignored, rejected, and betrayed. Each one planted a lie deep enough to distort how I saw God, others, and myself.
Reframing didn’t happen all at once. It wasn’t a light switch—it was more like a slow sunrise, revealing one area at a time. I’d start with a feeling. A reaction. A moment where I overreacted to something small—only to discover it wasn’t small at all. It was rooted in pain I hadn’t yet given over to Jesus.
Take my tendency to lash out when I feel dismissed. It doesn’t come from pride—it comes from a boy who once thought staying quiet was safer than speaking up. It comes from years of believing my voice was a liability. And even now, as a father, husband, pastor, and coach, I still catch myself wanting to shut down or over-explain just to prove I deserve to be heard.
But here’s the difference: now, I know where to take that pain.
Reframing has taught me that healing isn’t about erasing the past—it’s about letting Jesus rewrite how I see it. Instead of avoiding my triggers, I name them. I pray through them. I lay them on the altar and ask the Holy Spirit to renew my mind with truth. Scripture becomes my lens, not my fallback. And little by little, that cracked frame becomes a place where light gets in.
The lie said: My words don’t matter.
The gospel says: “Before a word is on my tongue, You, Lord, know it completely” (Psalm 139:4).
The lie said: No one hears me.
The gospel says: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).
And when I want to default to control, I remember: “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Stillness is not silence—it’s trust.
If you’ve read this far and you’re wondering, “That’s good for him, but I’m still stuck,” I hear you.
I understand your hesitancy. I know your story probably isn’t as clear-cut as mine may sound. But the truth is, Jesus and His Word cut through any pain you’re facing and take those splinters—the very ones that seem unusable—and fashion them into a frame of healing, restoration, and freedom. Not just for you. But for the people He’s already planning to place in your path.
This is more than self-help. This is gospel transformation.
So if you haven’t yet, I invite you to pick up The Reframe Principle. Don’t just read it—walk through it. Journal. Pray. Process with someone safe. Let the Holy Spirit take you on the same journey of reflecting, restoring, and reframing that I’m still walking daily.
Because the truth is… the frame still holds. And it’s being restored by grace, one piece at a time.
C4 