Born From Necessity

In the closing pages of my devotional journal Pray Differently: Praying with Precision to Ignite God’s Power, I included a quiet bonus section titled His Space. It was an invitation, a gentle nudge toward creating a place dedicated solely for you and the Father to dwell. Not ornate. Not expansive. Simply intentional. Sacred because He meets you there.

What I did not fully explain in those pages is that His Space was born from necessity. From days when life felt heavy and unbearable. From evenings when I returned home carrying the invisible weight of expectations, disappointments, and emotions I could no longer hold upright. I needed somewhere to go.

Building the Secret Place

On Sunday mornings, the altar at church was that sacred place. But on ordinary weekdays, in the privacy of my home, I created another altar, one tucked into the corner of my bedroom.

It was not a large space. Just a small corner in my two-bedroom, one-bathroom condo the Lord had blessed me with. Yet within that modest boundary, I curated something holy: a soft blanket spread across the floor, my journal and pen within reach, sometimes a candle, always quiet.

That corner became my refuge.
There, I could finally exhale.
There, I could take the armor off.
There, I could remove the mask.
There, I could be spiritually naked and unashamed before God fully seen, fully known, fully held.

Dwelling in the Secret Place

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust.” — Psalm 91:1–2 (KJV)

Scripture speaks of dwelling in the “secret place,” yet that dwelling looks different for each of us. For some, it is the solitude of an evening shower. For others, the long stretch of highway during a daily commute. But my secret place was not found; it was built intentionally, lovingly. A corner transformed into an altar.

Night after night, I would sit on that blanket, wrap myself in its softness, and close my eyes. I was not simply unpacking the day I was returning it. Every conversation. Every failure. Every ache. Every moment I felt incompetent or unworthy. I placed them, one by one, back into God’s hands.

Where Pretense Dissolves

In that secret place, pretense dissolved. There was no space for performative worship, only genuine surrender. The kind that allows the soul to be uncovered and unashamed before its Maker.

Sometimes I prayed.
Sometimes I journaled.
Sometimes I cried without words.
And always, He met me there.

The Power of Designated Space

There is a quiet power in dedicating physical space for spiritual encounter. When we designate even the smallest corner as sacred, we teach our souls to recognize: This is where I come to lay it all down. Over time, the space begins to hold memories of surrender, of healing, of communion. It becomes less about décor and more about dwelling.

To dwell is not merely to intend; it is to return consistently. To abide is to keep showing up without answers, without resolution, without spiritual performance. Dwelling is the steady practice of trust. Each time we enter our secret place, we are declaring that God truly is our refuge and our fortress, the calm within every storm of life.

Create It. Enter It. Dwell There.

You do not need much room to create His Space. A chair beside your bed. A folded blanket on the floor. A place by the window where morning light rests. Holiness does not require square footage; it responds to invitation.

What matters is intention, the decision that somewhere within the walls of your everyday life, there exists a place where you are allowed to be undone and remade in God’s presence.

My bedroom corner still reminds me: I never had to carry it alone. Not the weariness. Not the questions. Not the hidden grief. I could always return to that sacred square of softness and release the day into the One who was already holding me.

Your secret place may look different. But it is waiting to be named, to be claimed, to be set apart.

Create it.
Enter it.
Dwell there.

Because sometimes the most powerful altar you will ever kneel at is the one you build at home.