Resurrection doesn’t always sound like trumpets.
Sometimes, it begins as a whisper.
A thread stirring in the quiet.
A breath that finally reaches the bottom of your lungs.
The moment you hear your own heartbeat and know—it’s still yours.
This resurrection didn’t come with applause.
It came because I finally listened.
Not to the noise. Not to the world’s ideas of who I should be.
But to the Spirit within me—the one that kept humming even in the silence.
He rose so I would remember:
Not even death can quiet the voice of love.
Resurrection is listening to the voice that says:
You are not broken beyond repair.
You are not behind.
You are still mine.
The tomb was never the end. It was the echo chamber of transformation.
And I am still rising—thread by thread—into who I was always becoming.
If you’re reading this, maybe you’re hearing it too.
The sound of your own soul
saying:
I’m not done yet.
Welcome back to the light.
Journal Prompts: The Sound of Resurrection
1. What part of me is being invited to rise right now?
(What in you feels ready to come back to life, be seen, or take its next breath?)
2. Where have I heard God’s whisper in the quiet places?
(Was it a moment, a word, a feeling, a song?)
3. What stones have been rolled away in my life recently?
(What burdens or beliefs have I released or outgrown?)
4. What does resurrection mean to me—not just spiritually, but personally?
(What does it look like to rise again, thread by thread?)
5. If my soul could speak freely right now, what would it say?
(Free write as if the Spirit is giving voice to something long buried or deeply true.)
6. What are the signs that I am no longer the same?
(Where do I see the fruit of inner growth, healing, or trust?)
7. Who or what helped me remember that I still belong to the light?
(Name the people, prayers, or moments that pulled you toward life again.)
Jenny Wren Threads 