The month of Shevat arrives quietly, in the deep stillness of winter. Trees stand bare. Branches hold no visible fruit. To the untrained eye, nothing seems to be happening. And yet, life is moving under the surface. I relate to this deeply right now, being in a place of transition. Beneath the frozen ground, roots are active. Sap begins to rise. Strength gathers where no one can see it. Knowing this natural picture, makes me happy and hopeful.
In the Land of Israel, Shevat marks the first stirring of awakening, even while winter still claims the surface. This is not a dead season (for you or for me). It is a root season: naming what is yet not seen.
“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of realities not seen.” (Heb 11:1, TLV)
Shevat teaches us that God often works where growth is hidden. Beneath habits, beneath reactions, beneath the words we speak and the words we think. Long before fruit appears in our lives, something is forming at the level of meaning. What grows there will determine what we eventually bear. This is why Shevat is associated not only with trees and living waters, but with something far more intimate and revealing: the sense of taste.
Taste is discernment. Taste tells us whether something nourishes or harms. Taste determines what we take in, and what we refuse. And in Shevat, taste is not only about food. It is about words, because words are seeds. Words we think and speak to ourselves, words we think and speak to and about others, and words we speak to God all matter.
Words are meant to produce fruit – hopefully good fruit, but we also are just as capable of producing bad fruit. Long before fruit appears, something more fundamental is happening while they are still seeds: meaning is being formed. What we call our experience, what we name as good or bad, blessed or barren, begins to shape the roots from which everything else will grow. I don’t know about you, but I want that fruit to be good and holy.
This is why Shevat is tied to trees, which carry life through seeds and fruit. And this is why Shevat is tied to taste, because we consume fruit, seeds, and even leaves and bark for nourishment and healing. So, why is Shevat tied to Asher?
Asher’s story does not begin with abundance, fertile land, or oil. It begins with a woman who dared to name blessing before her circumstances were resolved. In seed form, upon Asher’s birth, she declared:
“Happy am I.”
AI
Leah’s declaration is profoundly prophetic, not just for her son and his tribe, but for us too. She spoke into unresolved circumstances, relational tension, and long-standing comparison. How many of us need to make her same declaration into our complexities? Asher was the son of Zilpah, Leah’s maidservant, yet Leah claims and names him:
“Then Leah said, ‘Happy am I! For women will call me happy.’ So she named him Asher.” (Gen 30:13, NASB)
This moment was pivotal. Leah lived for years in comparison, rejection, and longing. She named sons out of her pain, hope, and desperation. She knew what it felt like to be unseen or second best. By the time Asher was born, her story is still unresolved. And yet, she names blessing anyway. The Hebrew root behind Asher (H833) does not describe fleeting happiness. It carries the sense of going straight, advancing, walking forward in alignment (with Adonai). Leah was not saying, “Everything is finally good, so I can be happy.” She was saying something far deeper: I am no longer defining myself by rivalry. I am choosing what meaning I will take in. I am moving forward. This was a transition, a maturing of her walk.
Before land, oil, favor, or strength were proclaimed upon Asher, there was a mother who has already begun to change. With Judah, Leah first turns from naming her pain and longing to naming praise. This was the first stage of her transition. By the time Asher is born, that earlier shift had ripened into discernment. Leah realized she no longer wanted to keep telling the same story. She did not name Asher the way she named her earlier sons, out of striving or comparison. First she praised (Judah), then she blessed (Asher). She recognized the old pattern and interrupted it.
Years later, Jacob blesses Asher:
“As for Asher, his food shall be rich, and he will yield royal delicacies.” (Gen 49:20, NASB)
Food in Scripture is never neutral. It represents what sustains life – what is consumed, digested, and absorbed. This blessing is not about excess, but about quality. Asher’s food is rich. His nourishment is fit for kings! How many of us want to produce this sort of (spiritual) food?
These royal dainties are about inner consumption, one’s spiritual diet, which are: the thoughts we believe, the interpretations we agree with, the words we repeat within ourselves. All the things that will eventually produce fruit – from our identity to our behavior. These things become what sustain us day after day. Asher does not live on scraps like resentment, comparison, harsh inner speech, fear-based conclusions, or rigid assumptions. His inner world is nourished by godly discernment. He tastes before swallowing.
Those of us with dogs know this well. They often swallow food whole, barely tasting it at all. They gulp first and sort it out later. Humans were not designed to live that way spiritually. We are meant to chew, discern, and choose. This is why Yeshua could say:
“I have food to eat that you do not know about.” (John 4:32, NASB)
Did you know that you have access to that food too? He was not speaking of physical sustenance, but of a deeper nourishment, one rooted in oneness with Adonai, obedience, and discernment rather than reaction or appetite.
Shevat’s association with taste ties directly into this:
Taste allows us to pause before consuming meaning.
Taste warns us when something looks acceptable but carries bitterness.
Taste asks: Is this ripe? Is this nourishing?
Leah practiced this before Asher ever did. She refused to keep consuming bitterness. She knew that thinking, believing, and doing the same things over and over would only get her the same results, and she wanted something else, something better. That choice shaped the soil from which Asher’s life would grow. Inner speech, the way we talk to ourselves is crucial in this place. The words we repeatedly speak to ourselves, especially under pressure, will shape who we become. Some thoughts strengthen life. Others quietly poison the roots. What mantras do you tell yourself over and over?
“This will never change.”
“I should be further along by now.”
“I already know what this means (or what they meant by this).”
These thoughts often feel true. They arrive quickly, confidently, and without invitation, so they feel right. But Shevat teaches us to taste them before agreeing with them, to slow down long enough to discern whether they nourish life or constrict it.
Asher’s blessing assumes a healed relationship with inner intake. The richness of his food comes from the seasoning of discernment at the seed level of thought and meaning. He chooses to use seasoned words that nourish and sustains life. He casts flavors that erode life out of the kitchen. But Scripture does not leave Asher’s blessing in the inner world alone. What is taken in eventually shapes how a person walks, how they are received by others, and how they endure over time.
Moses expands Jacob’s blessing by showing what happens when inner discernment is healthy.
“Of Asher he said, ‘More blessed than sons is Asher; may he be favored by his brothers, and may he dip his foot in olive oil. Your bars will be iron and bronze, and as your days, so will your strength be.’” (Deu 33:24-25, NASB)
Favor flows where judgment is restrained and gauged in righteousness. People feel safe around those who do not rush to conclusions or assign motives. Even unspoken assumptions shape posture, tone, and presence with others. When inner speech is seasoned with patience, favor follows naturally. It is felt by others. Asher is favored because his inner world is not abrasive.
“Let him dip his foot in oil.”
Oil in Scripture is consumed, burned for light, used in cooking, poured out in sacrifice, applied in anointing, and used to bind up wounds . It enters the body, illuminates the path, transforms what is prepared, and consecrates what is offered. Oil is a powerful metaphor with many applications.
What is consumed becomes part of how we move; thus, oil can lubricate your walk. Oil soothes what has been bruised, allowing wounded places to heal. In the same way, the thoughts, interpretations, and repeated words we take into our inner life shape our walk. A diet of harsh inner language produces stiffness and strain; discernment produces strength and steadiness.
“Where will you be stricken again, as you continue in your rebellion? The entire head is sick, and the entire heart is faint. From the sole of the foot even to the head There is nothing healthy in it, only bruises, slashes, and raw wounds; not pressed out nor bandaged, nor softened with oil.” (Isa 1:5-6, NASB)
Oil burned for light makes the way forward visible. Oil used in cooking changes texture and flavor. Oil applied in anointing marks the walk as purposeful rather than reactive.
“And you shall command the sons of Israel that they bring you clear oil of beaten olives for the light, to make a lamp burn continually.” (Exo 27:20, NASB)
Moses says Asher will dip his foot in oil. Oil is not merely something he possesses; it powers his walk. His movement is shaped by what he consumes, how he sees, how he processes, and what he offers. Asher walks straight because his inner speech does not continually wound him.
“Your bars shall be iron and bronze.”
Bars are boundaries – restraint and healthy limitations. This blessing describes the capacity to:
notice a thought without obeying it
hold an assumption without acting on it
pause between what happens and what it means
Iron and bronze bars are healthy boundaries – within and with others. Without them, the mind floods with urgency and false certainty. Or, relationships with others become dysfunctional. With them, discernment returns, and choice and agency are restored.
“As your days, so shall your strength be.”
This is the culmination of Asher’s blessing: sustainable strength. A soul fed on harsh inner speech burns out. A soul that tastes before swallowing endures. This is why Asher’s joy lasts. It is rooted, not reactive. The winter inner work has been accomplished. Joy that is reactive burns out. Joy that is rooted endures. Asher’s strength lasts because it begins at the level of meaning and thought.
The Healing of Taste
AI
Shevat teaches us that taste can be healed. Taste buds regenerate. Discernment can be restored. When we slow down enough to notice the flavor of our thoughts, our appetite begins to change. We begin crave words, spoken and unspoken, that nourish life rather than constrict it.
Not every thought deserves agreement.
Not every interpretation deserves belief.
Not every true observation is ready to be consumed.
Pressure in this season is not punishment. Pressure is what causes the sap of life to rise. If Shevat feels quiet, unresolved, or heavy, it may be because something essential is awakening beneath the surface. Embrace it! What looks like delay may be preparation. Get ready! What feels like stillness may be strength gathering in the roots. Rejoice!
We do not rush the fruit. We trust the Gardener. And sometimes, the holiest act is simply to say—
Happy am I.
A Prayer for Shevat – “Happy Am I”
Holy One,
Gardener of what is seen and unseen,
we come to You in this quiet season of Shevat,
when nothing looks finished
and everything feels tender beneath the surface.
You see what is moving within us
before we do.
You know the thoughts that rise automatically,
the meanings we assign without noticing,
the words we repeat until they feel like truth.
So we pause before You now.
We do not argue with our thoughts.
We do not rush to fix them.
We simply bring them into Your light.
Adonai,
draw our attention to the words we have been living by.
The quiet sentences.
The familiar conclusions.
The stories we tell ourselves when we feel pressured, unseen, or uncertain.
Without judgment,
we notice them.
And now, in Your presence,
we taste them.
If these words were food,
would they nourish life within us?
Would they strengthen our roots?
Would they allow us to walk forward freely?
Where the taste is bitter,
we will not swallow.
We loosen our grip.
We set those words down.
We release the need to agree with every thought that passes through us.
Adonai,
where we have mistaken interpretation for truth,
gently widen our vision.
Where we have spoken to ourselves in absolutes and false certainties,
rewrite our inner language.
Where we have assumed we already know what something means,
restore curiosity.
Teach us to hold our thoughts
without being held by them.
Now, Holy One,
bring to mind the places where comparison has shaped our joy.
Where we have measured ourselves by others’ stories.
Where we have named lack instead of life.
Where old rivalries, spoken or unspoken, still whisper to our hearts.
As Leah once did,
we choose to name something new.
Not because everything is resolved,
but because alignment with You is possible even here.
Before fruit appears,
before answers arrive,
before circumstances change,
we practice naming blessing.
Not from denial.
Not from pretending.
But from discernment.
We say with intention,
with courage,
with rooted trust:
Happy am I.
Not because life is easy,
but because we are choosing what we take into ourselves.
Adonai,
strengthen our inner boundaries.
Give us the quiet strength
to pause between what happens
and what we decide it means.
Let our thoughts slow.
Let urgency dissolve.
Let choice return.
Where our inner speech has been harsh,
anoint our steps with oil.
Where our walk has become heavy,
smooth the way.
Where we have grown tired from carrying unexamined meanings,
renew our strength, day by day, moment by moment.
Teach us to trust the work You are doing beneath the surface.
When growth is hidden,
keep us from despair.
When pressure increases,
remind us that sap is rising.
May our inner world become rich soil.
May the words we live by become royal food, fit for a king.
May joy grow steady and enduring.
And as this month unfolds,
may we learn to name life wisely,
taste our words carefully,
and walk forward gently with You.
We trust the Gardener.
We trust the process.
We trust that fruit will come in its time.
In a season marked by relational, spiritual, and cultural intensity, many leaders find themselves carrying responsibility without adequate space to be renewed. The 2026 Creative Leadership Retreat, which I am hosting alongside Dr. Hollisa Alewine of The Creation Gospel, is an invitation to pause during the Omer Count and remember how Scripture teaches us to tend holy fire—fire that refines rather than scorches, clarifies rather than confuses, and strengthens rather than exhausts.
From April 19–22, gather with a diverse community of leaders, creatives, couples, singles, and sojourners for several days of teaching, worship, and shared life. Featured speakers include Grant Luton & Robin Luton (Torah Today Ministries), Beth Cloud (Jacob’s Tent), Tammy McLendon (River of Life Tabernacle), Simonette Cherepanov (Seven Lamp Wellness), Michelle Shaff (Seeds Within Seeds), worship with Rhonda Carter and Tracey Colling, and others whose teaching are shaped by obedience and faithful presence.
Alongside rich biblical instruction, the retreat offers room for creativity and joy—acrylic painting, jewelry making, gentle morning movement, laughter, and unhurried fellowship. Whether you lead a family, a ministry, a workplace, or are learning to lead your own life faithfully in a demanding season, this retreat offers practical tools, fellowship, and spiritual renewal.
Space is limited. Visit the retreat website by clicking here or on the image below to register.
As we enter a new year, many of us sense the need to slow down, recalibrate, and return to healthier rhythms—physically, mentally, and spiritually. Over the years, I’ve learned to be discerning about what I recommend, especially when it comes to practices that shape the body and the inner life. When I do share something, it’s because I believe it genuinely supports restoration, wisdom, and shalom.I want to introduce you to Simonette Cherepanov, a pastoral counselor and author whose work I deeply respect. Simonette has spent years walking with individuals and families through renewal and healing through her counseling practice, Seven Lamp Wellness, where she integrates Scripture, neuroscience, and whole-person care in a grounded, pastoral way. She is also the author of Back to Eden, a book centered on returning to God-designed rhythms for the body, brain, and soul.
Beginning January 4, Simonette is inviting us to join her for the Back to Eden Lifestyle Reset, a gentle and intentional 21-day challenge. This reset builds on last year’s focus on renewing the mind by adding a physical layer that supports longevity, nervous-system health, and sustainable change. Rather than striving for perfection or dramatic overhauls, the goal is alignment—small, daily practices that reinforce the way we were designed to live.
Each day of the reset includes:
simple breathing practices and longevity-focused movement
Scripture-based mind renewal and “rewiring”
practical diet and supplement suggestions
tools from Dr. Daniel Amen, including his free online brain assessment and the ANTs model
I’ve included a short video below where Simonette shares the heart behind this reset and what to expect in her own words.
If you’re feeling the weight of modern life, the pressure of constant pace, or the quiet nudge that it’s time to care for your body and mind with greater intention, this reset may be a timely companion for the season ahead. There is no pressure to join—only an invitation. But if you do, you’ll be guided by someone with both pastoral wisdom and professional experience, and you’ll be walking alongside a community of sojourners committed to learning and living differently. If you’d like to learn more about Simonette’s counseling work, you can visit her practice at Seven Lamp Wellness.
If you’d like to participate, you can find the details for joining the Back to Eden Lifestyle Reset below:
Start Date: January 4 Duration: 21 days (with continued cycles through March) Cost: Free (book required)
To JOIN Email Simi at: sevenlampwellness@gmail.com
The following article is the written version of the teaching I gave at Women of Valor this weekend. Below that, you will find the audio recording of my message along with the handouts I gave the women, and some additional helpful pdfs you are welcome to print or download.
Holy Conversation
“Be ye holy in all manner of conversation.” (1 Peter 1:15)
The Mussar masters teach that humility (anavah) is the foundation of all the middot — the ethical traits that shape godly character. Without humility, the other traits lose their balance: patience can turn into avoidance, generosity into control, truthfulness into cruelty.
Humility is more than thinking less of ourselves; it’s knowing our proper space before God and others. It allows us to speak truth without arrogance, and to listen without defensiveness. This is why humility is the key to reconciliation — especially in moments of disagreement or misunderstanding.
Conflict has a way of tempting us out of humility. We want to win the point, protect ourselves, or correct the other person. But humility changes the question we ask. Instead of “How can I make them understand me?” humility asks, “How can I better understand them?” This shift is impossible without empathy — the ability to truly see and feel what another person is experiencing.
Empathy is central to humility because it keeps our hearts soft. It guards us from assuming motives, making quick judgments, or treating others as less than ourselves. When humility and empathy work together, even hard conversations can become opportunities for connection and growth.
“People with good sense are slow to anger, and it is their glory to overlook an offense.” (Pro 19:11, CJB)
That’s why in this teaching, we will explore Nonviolent Communication (NVC),[1] a conflict resolution framework developed by Dr. Marshall Rosenberg, for practicing humility in our day-to-day conversations. NVC slows us down and helps us speak in a way that honors both our own needs and the needs of others — without judgment or accusation.
NVC works through four interconnected components:
Observation – Describing what happened without judgment or interpretation.
Feeling – Naming the emotion we’re experiencing in response to the observation.
Need – Identifying the universal human value or longing connected to that feeling.
Request – Asking for a specific action that could help meet that need.
When we approach conversations — especially conflict — with these four steps, we practice humility by refusing to assume we know it all, and we practice empathy by truly considering the other person’s reality. Together, they turn ordinary moments of tension into holy conversations.
“But the things that proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart, and those things make the man unholy. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, and slander. These are the things that make the man unholy; but to eat with unwashed hands does not make the man unholy.” (Mat 15:18-20, TLV)
Component 1: Observation – Seeing Without Judgment
“Set a guard, Adonai, over my mouth. Keep watch over the door of my lips.” (Psa 141:3, TLV)
Humility in conversation begins with the courage to see what’s happening without assigning blame, moral verdicts, or hidden motives. This first component of Nonviolent Communication (NVC) is deceptively simple: describe what you actually see or hear without judgment, evaluation, or interpretation.
An observation is a simple, verifiable description — what could be captured on camera or heard in an audio recording. A judgment or evaluation adds interpretation, assumption, and often a moral verdict.
“Do not judge according to appearance, but judge with righteous judgment.” (Jhn 7:24, NAS95)
Not all judgments are the same. While Adonai charges us to practice righteous judgment, most of the judgments people make about others are unrighteous. NVC makes an important distinction:
Value Judgments express the qualities we believe serve life—honesty, freedom, kindness, peace. These reflect our beliefs for how life can best flourish.
Moralistic Judgments are about labeling people as right or wrong, good or bad, based on whether they meet our values. They often imply that someone is “less than” or deserving of punishment if they fall short. Example: “He is lazy.” “She is selfish.”
Value judgments can lead to honest conversation about needs. Moralistic judgments usually lead to blame, insults, comparisons, and criticism — all of which close the door to empathy.
“A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion.” (Pro 18:2, ESV)
Moralistic judgments or evaluations can feel righteous, protective, even discerning, but it’s often fear, pride, or pain in disguise. Something triggers us—anger, anxiety, a sense of betrayal—and instead of naming our feelings or seeking understanding, we start constructing a story.
This is where unholy conversation begins:
We label, classify, and interpret the other person’s behavior.
We fill in the blanks about their motives and intentions.
We replace observation with assumption or unvoiced expectations.
In NVC, the jackal symbolizes life-alienating communication. As an animal, the jackal is low to the ground, a scavenger, competitive, and fierce. As a metaphor, it represents the reactive voice inside us that views the world through right/wrong, good/bad dualities and seeks to control through fear, guilt, and shame.
“Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things.” (Rom 2:1, ESV)
The Bible presents a morality rooted in love, not merely rules. True compassion flows from deep connection and empathy, not from obligation or fear of breaking the Law. Yeshua acted out of heartfelt compassion—sharing in people’s pain—not because He “should.” Rules can restrain behavior, but love transforms it.
Dr. Henry Cloud, in Changes That Heal, illustrates this difference with a simple analogy. Imagine I hand you a baseball bat and give you permission to hit me. One
person says, “I wouldn’t because it’s wrong.” Another says, “I wouldn’t because I don’t want to hurt you.” Which would you trust more? The one motivated by empathy. When we care how our actions affect someone we’re connected to, love—not fear of punishment—guides us toward life-giving choices.
By contrast, the jackal mindset—comparable to the lower nature or ego—is far more self-focused. When offended or in conflict, it often shows up as an “inner interpreter” that jumps to conclusions, usually without evidence. It may sound like:
A defense attorney– “I have every right to feel this way.”
A mind reader– “She said that because she thinks I’m incompetent.”
A spiritual judge– “The Spirit showed me their true heart.”
A historian– “They always do this; they never change.”
A director– “I know where this is going; I’ve seen it before.”
“Now flee from youthful lusts and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart. But refuse foolish and ignorant speculations, knowing that they produce quarrels.” (2Ti 2:22-23, NAS95)
“Do not be quickly provoked in your spirit, for anger settles in the bosom of fools.” (Ecc 7:9, TLV)
This voice is not neutral. It draws from our fears, wounds, and ego. The most dangerous false narratives are not those in today’s media, but the stories we create in our minds about the heart and motives of others. We tell ourselves what their words really meant, how they must feel about us, and who they must be, deep down. This sort of judgment belongs to God alone.
“Do not speak against one another, brethren. He who speaks against a brother or judges his brother, speaks against the law and judges the law; but if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge of it. There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the One who is able to save and to destroy; but who are you who judge your neighbor?” (Jas 4:11-12, NAS95)
The Four D’s – How the Jackal Speaks
The jackal’s inner interpreter tends to communicate in four main ways—what NVC calls the Four D’s of Disconnection:
Deserving – Sorting people into those who deserve reward and those who deserve punishment. “She doesn’t deserve my trust after what she did.”
Diagnosing – Judging, labeling, and making assumptions about motives. “The problem with you is that you’re selfish.”
Denying Choice – Using guilt and blame to avoid responsibility. “I have to do it because you won’t.” or “You made me so angry.”
Demanding – Pushing compliance through fear or control. “You’d better do this if you know what’s good for you.”
In each case, the jackal focuses on accusing or controlling the other person instead of seeking to understand or connect.
“A single witness shall not rise up against a man on account of any iniquity or any sin which he has committed; on the evidence of two or three witnesses a matter shall be confirmed. If a malicious witness rises up against a man to accuse him of wrongdoing, then both the men who have the dispute shall stand before the LORD, before the priests and the judges who will be in office in those days. The judges shall investigate thoroughly, and if the witness is a false witness and he has accused his brother falsely, then you shall do to him just as he had intended to do to his brother. Thus you shall purge the evil from among you.” (Deu 19:15-19, NAS95)
By contrast, the giraffe represents life-serving communication. With the largest heart of any land animal and the longest neck for perspective, the giraffe reminds us to speak from the heart and keep the bigger picture in view.
The Four R’s of the giraffe guide us toward humility and empathy:
Remembering – We are all unique, interconnected, and interdependent.
Respecting – Ourselves and others, knowing we’re all trying to meet legitimate needs.
Taking Responsibility – For our beliefs, feelings, thoughts, and actions.
Requesting – Inviting, not demanding, and accepting “yes” or “no” as a step toward dialogue.
Righteous judgment begins with clarity, and clarity begins with what we have actually observed. The clearest way to silence the jackal and speak giraffe is to start with an observation. An observation is a simple, verifiable description. Ask: Could this be recorded on video or audio exactly as I’m describing it? If not, it’s probably a judgment.
Judgment/Evaluation: “You’ve been ignoring me.”
Observation: “We haven’t spoken in two months.”
The first closes the door to dialogue; the second leaves room for the other person’s perspective. Making observations without judgment slows us down. It creates a pause in which God can work in us and in the relationship. It honors truth, preserves dignity, and keeps conflict as an opportunity for reconciliation rather than a catalyst for division.
“So take care how you listen; for whoever has, to him more shall be given; and whoever does not have, even what he thinks he has shall be taken away from him.” (Luk 8:18, NAS95)
Humility keeps us from usurping God’s role as the Judge of hearts. Observation keeps us tethered to truth instead of imagination. And empathy—rooted in humility—keeps our hearts open long enough for reconciliation to be possible.
“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Do not judge, and you will not be judged; and do not condemn, and you will not be condemned; pardon, and you will be pardoned. Give, and it will be given to you. They will pour into your lap a good measure—pressed down, shaken together, and running over. For by your standard of measure it will be measured to you in return.” (Luk 6:36-38, NAS95)
When we replace the Four D’s with the Four R’s, we move from reactive, fear-based communication to relational, heart-centered conversation. This is the ground where the rest of NVC—and the work of the Spirit—can take root.
“Put away from you a deceitful mouth and put devious speech far from you. Let your eyes look directly ahead and let your gaze be fixed straight in front of you.” (Pro 4:24-25, NAS95)
Component 2: Naming Our Feelings
Taking responsibility for our own feelings is central to holy conversation. “No matter what has happened, we are all responsible for how we feel one hundred percent of the time. How we feel is a direct reflection of our thoughts, [beliefs, and values]. Change your perspective about an incident and you will change how you feel.”[2]
This shifts the focus from, “You made me feel…” to, “When this happened, I felt…” That small change keeps us from assigning blame for our emotional state and instead allows us to own our internal experience. In relationships, people often say things like, “You’re annoying me,” “That really hurt my feelings,” or “You’re driving me crazy.” This is blame language—it attributes our feelings to someone else’s behavior and makes them “wrong or bad” for making us feel unpleasant. In reality, the other person’s words or actions are the stimulus for our feelings, not the cause.
“Brothers and sisters, do not be children in your thinking; yet in evil be infants, but in your thinking be mature.” (1 Co 14:20, NASB)
Taking responsibility for emotions doesn’t mean pretending not to hurt—it means owning what is ours to steward and refusing to hand that responsibility over to someone else. It also doesn’t excuse harmful behavior in others. Instead, it ensures that our own response is governed by the Spirit rather than by emotional reactivity.
“He who restrains his words has knowledge, and he who has a cool spirit is a man of understanding.” (Pro 17:27, NAS95)
One of the most powerful tools for doing this is naming the emotion we are feeling. If we struggle to identify what we feel, it’s often because our brain is operating from the limbic system—the emotional center that includes the amygdala, our built-in alarm system. While the amygdala is helpful in emergencies, it can be destructive in relationships. Neuroscience shows that when we label our feelings, we engage the prefrontal cortex—the brain’s reasoning and empathy center. This shift helps quiet the amygdala’s alarm, regulate our nervous system, and bring clarity and calm. It’s as if naming the emotion tells the body, You’ve been heard; you can stand down now. From this grounded place, our words are more likely to be gracious and constructive.
However, naming feelings requires care. The first guideline is to differentiate between a feeling and what we are thinking. For example:
“I feel betrayed” is an accusation, not a feeling. A nonjudgmental statement would be, “When you lied about where you were, I felt shocked and hurt, because I value honesty and faithfulness.”
“I feel that you don’t love me enough” is an interpretation of actions (or inaction). A truer expression might be, “I feel sad and lonely when we don’t spend time together.”
“I feel misunderstood” is an evaluation of someone else’s understanding. A more accurate statement would be, “I’m feeling anxious or annoyed about our communication.”
When we disguise thoughts and judgments as feelings, they often sound like blame. And when the other person feels blamed, their natural reaction is to defend, explain, or counterattack—shutting down connection.
“Do you see someone hasty in his words? There is more hope for a fool than him.” (Pro 29:20, TLV)
“If anyone thinks himself to be religious, and yet does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart, this man’s religion is worthless.” (Jas 1:26, NAS95)
Clear feelings language does the opposite. It lowers defenses because it says, “This is what’s happening in me,” rather than, “This is what’s wrong with you.” These small shifts in wording can make a huge difference in how our words are received.
Judgment disguised as feeling: “I feel manipulated.” Pure feeling: “I feel uneasy and anxious about this conversation.”
Judgment disguised as feeling: “I feel rejected.” Pure feeling: “I feel lonely and hurt when I don’t hear back from you.”
Judgment disguised as feeling: “I feel attacked.” Pure feeling: “I feel tense and unsafe when voices get raised.”
Once we’ve learned to take ownership of our own emotions, love calls us to extend the same care to others. Part of responsibility in communication is ensuring the other person’s feelings are adequately heard. Sometimes this means gently guessing what they might be feeling—not to project or assume, but to offer a bridge: “It sounds like you might be feeling… Is that right?” Even if we miss the mark, we show that their inner life matters enough for us to try.
“Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, to know how you ought to answer everyone.” (Col 4:6, TLV)
Too much or too little salt makes food inedible or unpleasant. In the same way, wise words are measured, thoughtful, and responsive—not reactive. Owning our emotions and honoring the emotions of others is one way to keep our speech seasoned with grace, opening the gates of righteous judgment in every conversation.
“Have I not wept for the one whose life is hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?” (Job 30:25, NAS95)
Component 3: Needs
“The wisdom of the wise is to understand his way, but the foolishness of fools is deceit.” (Pro 14:8, LITV)
If naming emotions helps us take responsibility for our inner world, identifying the needs behind those emotions helps us understand why we feel what we feel and what may lead to resolution or restoration.
Needs are the things we can’t live without like air, food, water, and shelter. But they also represent our values, wants, dreams, desires, and preferences for a happier and/or more meaningful experience as a human. Although we have different needs in differing amounts at different times, they are universal in all of us. When they are unmet, we experience feelings, and when they are met, we experience feelings.
When a need is met, we feel gratitude, peace, joy, or security. When a need is unmet, we feel sadness, fear, frustration, or discouragement. Thus, needs are not inherently sinful, but they can become dangerous when we seek to fill them apart from God or demand that others meet them on our terms. Recognizing needs gives us clarity. For example:
Anger may signal a need for fairness, safety, or respect.
Sadness may reveal a need for comfort, connection, or reassurance.
Anxiety may point to a need for security, stability, or guidance.
When we stop at the surface emotion, we may misdirect our energy toward punishing someone for how we feel. But when we ask, What need is underneath this?, we invite God to show us where we are truly lacking and how He might meet us there.
“Know this, my dear brothers and sisters: let every person be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger— for human anger doesn’t produce the righteousness of God.” (Jas 1:19-20, TLV)
When we see the need beneath the emotion, our perspective shifts. Where we once assumed bad motives or sinfulness, we now see an unmet need—an opportunity for empathy instead of judgment.
“The intent of a man’s heart is deep water, but a man of insight draws it out.” (Pro 20:5, TLV)
Identifying needs is not about excusing hurtful actions, it is about moving from accusation to curiosity. It opens the possibility for understanding, for asking questions that draw out the heart, and for finding solutions that honor both parties.
In the language of holy conversation, needs become a bridge. When we can say, “I’m feeling anxious because I need reassurance about this decision,” we give the other person something concrete to respond to, something that can be discussed, negotiated, or supported. In contrast, “You’re making me anxious” blames, accuses, and closes the door.
Needs also invite prayer. When we name a need before God, we position ourselves to receive from Him first, whether through His direct comfort or through the help of others.
“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” (Eph 4:29, NIV)
The Jackal and Giraffe Approaches to Needs
Jackal often disguises needs behind demands, moralistic judgments, or blame:
“You should listen to me.” (need for being heard)
“You’re selfish.” (need for cooperation)
“You never spend time with me.” (need for connection)
Giraffe makes needs explicit and mutual:
“I need to know my voice matters in our conversations.”
“I’m longing for more cooperation as we share this workload.”
“I’d like to spend more time together because I value our friendship.”
Four D’s of a Jackal (life-alienating needs language)
Deserving – “I’ve worked hard all day; I deserve to be left alone.”
Diagnosing – “You’re lazy; that’s why you didn’t help.”
Denying Choice – “I have to do everything around here because no one else will.”
Demanding – “You must call me every day.”
Four R’s of a Giraffe (life-giving needs language)
Remembering – “I’m needing some rest and quiet after a long day, and I know you need time together—can we plan both?”
Respecting – “I need help with the chores, and I respect that you’ve had a full schedule too—can we divide the tasks?”
Taking Responsibility – “I feel overwhelmed doing this alone, and I’d like to find a way we can share the work.”
Requesting – “I feel connected when we talk regularly—would you be willing to check in each week?”
Jackal language tells people what they’ve done wrong. Giraffe language tells people what would make life better—for both of you. When we connect our emotions to our needs, we gain insight, self-control, and compassion. We also prepare ourselves for the next step: expressing those needs in the form of a clear, respectful request, rather than a demand.
“Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you fulfill the Torah of Messiah.” (Gal 6:2, TLV)
Component 4: Requests
“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened. Or what man is there among you who, when his son asks for a loaf, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, he will not give him a snake, will he? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!” (Mat 7:7-11, NAS95)
If identifying observations, feelings, and needs lays the foundation, then requests are where the rubber meets the road. A request is simply an invitation to
meet a need—yours or another’s—in a way that keeps the dignity of both people intact.The request is the ebb and flow of giving and receiving, back and forth, that provides the opportunity for everyone’s needs to be met.
The difference between a request and a demand is not in the wording—it’s in the spirit behind it.
A demand communicates: “Do this or else you’ll be judged, shamed, or punished.”
A request communicates: “Here’s what I would like—are you willing?”and leaves room for freedom, dialogue, and even a “no” without retaliation.
Marshall Rosenberg observed that when people hear a demand, they immediately weigh how to protect their own autonomy. Even if they comply, it will likely be from fear, guilt, or resentment, not from a place of love and giving from the heart.
Making requests also tests the sincerity of our humility. Philippians 2:4 says, “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” A request honors the other person’s perspective and interests too. It says, “I value you enough to ask, not assume or coerce.”
When we turn needs into demands, we put the relationship at risk—because if the demand isn’t met, the next step is judgment and punishment, which is how idols of the heart are created. But when we turn needs into requests, we plant seeds for mutual understanding and cooperation.
Why We Avoid Requests
Many of us struggle to make clear, direct requests because we:
Fear rejection or disappointment.
Assume the other person “should” already know what we need.
Confuse hinting or complaining with asking.
But unspoken expectations are a breeding ground for offense and resentment.
Making Effective Requests
In NVC, a good request is:
Specific and Concrete – “Would you be willing to call me when you’re running late?” instead of “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Positive – Focus on what you do want, not what you don’t.
Present and Actionable – Something that can be done here and now, not a vague future hope.
Mutual – Open to negotiation, recognizing the other person’s needs too.
Specific requests honor both parties’ dignity by removing guesswork and replacing accusation with clarity. A vague request, by contrast, is like leaving the gate half-shut. The other person can’t see clearly what you are asking, and the conversation is more likely to be derailed by assumptions, defensiveness, or hurt.
To ensure our requests are clear and specific, it is helpful to ask the other person one of the following questions:
“How do you feel about what I just asked for, and why?”
“Do you think this approach will work?”
“Do you feel what I’m asking is reasonable?”
These follow-up questions communicate that our request is not a demand but an opening for partnership. They turn the conversation from a one-sided declaration into a two-way bridge that can bear the weight of empathy, creativity, and mutual care.
Two Parts of NVC: Speaking and Listening in Humility
Expressing With Honesty
When we express ourselves with honesty and vulnerability, we give others the gift of knowing our heart without them having to guess. This means:
Honestly expressing nonjudgmental observations, your own feelings, and needs. “When I hear (or see)… I feel… because I need… Would you be willing to…?”
Having the courage to be vulnerable instead of hiding behind blame or generalizations.
Making clear, detailed requests rather than hinting, complaining, or assuming the other person “should just know.”
Humility allows us to expose our needs without shame, trusting that the other person can respond freely—yes, no, or with a counter-proposal—without it diminishing our worth.
“The one who states his case first seems right, until the other comes and examines him” (Proverbs 18:17).
Providing empathy means listening in a way that draws the other person out and helps them connect with their own heart. It requires:
Presence – staying focused on them without distraction.
Space – resisting the urge to jump in with your own story or opinion.
Verbal reflection of feelings and needs: “Are you feeling…?” “Are you needing…?”
Avoiding the habits that shut down connection: Advising, Fixing, Consoling, Storytelling, Sympathizing, Analyzing, Explaining, Defending
In this mode, no matter what is said, we listen for only four things: observations, feelings, needs, and requests. We don’t rush to respond with our own request unless invited—either by a sign from the other person that they are ready or by an explicit ask.
Holy conversation is more than polite speech, it is a way of life shaped by humility, truth, and love. It guards the “gates” of our words so that what passes through builds bridges, not walls. When we practice awareness, avoid premature judgments, own our emotions, identify the needs beneath them, and make gracious requests, we participate in God’s work of reconciliation. In speaking this way, we reflect the Messiah, who is “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). Our manner of life—our conversation in the biblical sense—becomes a living witness of the Kingdom of Heaven.
“The path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, shining brighter and brighter until the full day. The way of the wicked is like darkness. They do not know what makes them stumble.” (Pro 4:18-19, TLV)
Moses expands Jacob’s blessing by showing what happens when inner discernment is healthy.
GRACE in TORAH 