The Secret of the LORD is with those who Fear Him.

 To flaunt one’s intimacy with the Lord is like publicly describing the secret tenderness shared with one’s spouse — a profaning of what was meant to be sacred.

To parade personal revelations or private moments of divine communion before an audience is to turn holy ground into a stage.

There is a vast difference between what people need to hear and what our pride wants them to hear.
There is more hope for a fool than for one who cannot restrain himself from broadcasting every whisper he claims to have heard from Heaven.

Jesus did not entrust every truth to every crowd.
Some things He declared to all, others to the seventy, still others to the twelve — and then only to the three.
Yet even beyond them were the few who leaned upon His sacred heart: Mary who anointed, and John who beheld.

Even He, the Word Himself, spoke only what He heard the Father saying — and only when He saw the Father saying it.

How much more should we tremble before the temptation to speak too soon, too loosely, too proudly?
Spiritual pride is a subtle thief — it steals reverence while pretending to honor God.
Few things grieve the Holy Spirit more than when His glory is used to feed human ego. Spiritual pride is the deepest of all ditches.

There is a childlike joy in sharing what the Lord has done for us — and that is beautiful.
But let us discern when that joy turns to self-display, when testimony becomes exhibition, when humility gives way to spiritual vanity.

May the Lord deliver us completely from this hidden rot — this dreadful pride that masquerades as devotion — and teach us again the holiness of silence before His majesty.

Yet even in sharing this, I tremble — for words, though meant to help, can also confuse. Some may grow hesitant to speak at all, while others may still rush ahead without hearing. The key is not silence itself, but sensitivity — that sacred discernment born only from personal communion with Him.

Such sensitivity cannot be taught by man. It is learned in the secret place, where the soul comes to truly know Him — not by mere thought or study, but by revelation. It is a knowing that wounds and heals, that humbles and awakens.

This must be guarded — fiercely, tenderly — through daily surrender. Through the death of self-will, through the quiet yielding of every ambition to His whisper. Only then can His voice remain clear, untainted by pride or presumption.