When the Fire Finds Another Fireplace
The other night, something quietly extraordinary happened.
A customer approached me and said she had read my memoir, Kissed by Death: My Journey to Finding Life in the Darkness. She told me she had passed it on to a friend.
That friend then gave it to her daughter.
And just like that, my story — once locked inside hospital rooms, fear, addiction, and redemption — was now resting on coffee tables and in a young woman’s bedroom somewhere out there in the world.
Not as a product.
Not as a transaction.
But as something alive.
📖 Kissed by Death: My Journey to Finding Life in the Darkness
There is something deeply humbling about that.
In a world that constantly pushes us to measure success in numbers — sales, rankings, reviews, algorithms — this moment reminded me of something far more sacred.
The Gospel does not spread primarily through marketing funnels.
It spreads through hands.
Beyond Sales and Reviews
I live in a world of metrics.
As an independent author and founder of Refined by Fire Press, I understand the importance of:
Amazon rankings
Metadata optimisation
ISBN registrations
Distribution channels
Social proof
Google indexing
I have worked hard. I’ve built platforms. I’ve tracked numbers. I’ve celebrated milestones.
But none of those moments compare to hearing that my book was passed from one heart to another.
That it was handed across a kitchen table.
That it was placed into the hands of a daughter.
That it was read not because of an advertisement — but because someone felt it mattered enough to share.
That is something different.
That is something eternal.
The Quiet Power of a Testimony
When I wrote Kissed by Death, I wasn’t writing to impress anyone.
I was writing about surviving meningococcal disease at eighteen.
I was writing about addiction.
I was writing about father wounds, identity, shame, trauma, and the mercy of Jesus Christ meeting me in a coma when I was spiritually and physically dying.
I was writing about fire.
About being refined in it.
And here is what I am learning:
When you tell the truth about your suffering, God does something with it that you cannot manufacture.
You cannot algorithm your way into that.
You cannot engineer that kind of reach.
The Gospel moves through vulnerability.
Coffee Tables and Children's Bedrooms
There is something profoundly symbolic about where my book landed.
Coffee tables represent conversation.
They represent families. Guests. Hospitality. Shared life.
Bedrooms represent vulnerability.
They represent private questions. Late-night tears. Identity forming. Quiet struggles that no one else sees.
To know that my testimony now sits in those spaces is overwhelming in the best way.
Because that is where the Gospel does its deepest work — not on stages, not in headlines, but in the quiet places.
What Success Actually Looks Like
We live in a culture obsessed with virality.
But what if success is slower?
What if success looks like:
One woman reading a story.
Feeling seen.
Handing it to her friend.
That friend recognising something sacred in it.
And passing it to her daughter.
That is generational.
That is discipleship without a pulpit.
That is the ripple effect of obedience.
The Gospel Was Always Meant to Travel Like This
Before there were bookstores, before there were publishing houses, before there were digital storefronts, the message of Christ moved through:
Letters.
Homes.
Personal testimony.
It moved through people who had been changed.
And it spread because someone said, “You need to read this.”
That is what happened the other night.
And it humbled me.
Because it reminded me that I am not building a brand.
I am stewarding a testimony.
The Fire Was Never Just For Me
There were moments in my life when the fire felt unbearable.
Twenty-seven major operations since birth.
Bullying.
Shame.
Alcohol addiction.
A near-death experience that stripped me of every illusion of control.
When I lay in that hospital bed at eighteen, fighting meningococcal disease, I did not imagine that one day my story would travel through homes like this.
I only knew I was being saved.
Now I am beginning to understand something else.
The fire was not just for my survival.
It was for someone else's hope.
A Reminder for Creators, Authors, and Dreamers
If you are building something — a book, a ministry, a business, a calling — and you are watching numbers obsessively, let me gently say this:
The most powerful impact of your work may never show up in analytics.
It may show up in:
A mother passing your book to her friend.
A teenager reading your words at midnight.
A quiet decision to not give up.
A whispered prayer sparked by a page.
You may never see it.
But Heaven does.
A Beautiful Reminder
That conversation with my customer was not loud.
It was not dramatic.
But it was holy.
Because it reminded me why I wrote in the first place.
Not for applause.
Not for validation.
Not even for success.
But because Jesus saved me.
And when someone encounters that story and decides it is worth passing on — that is the Gospel still moving.
The Real Reach
In a world that chases:
Reviews
Sales
Bestseller badges
Online visibility
To hear that my memoir reached coffee tables and children’s bedrooms is a reminder that something far deeper is happening.
The Word of God does not return void.
Testimony does not expire.
And stories soaked in redemption do not stay contained.
They travel.
Gratitude
To the woman who told me that story — thank you.
You have no idea what that meant to me.
To the friend who passed it on — thank you.
To the daughter reading it — I pray you find hope in those pages.
And to anyone reading this blog post: never underestimate what God can do with your obedience.
Sometimes the greatest impact of your life will look very ordinary.
Until you realise it isn’t.
Comments
Post a Comment