Danny Raye's Blog

After watching and loving the psychological thriller The Black Phone, I was naturally curious about the second movie when it was released in 2025. On Valentine’s Day 2026, I sat down with my preteen children and prepared to dive into what The Black Phone 2 had to offer. We didn’t make it more than fifteen minutes into the movie before we shut it off and rebuked it in the name of Jesus.

Murder is Not Normal

The graphic violence of the teenage boys being chased through the woods and slaughtered was completely unacceptable. The first murder was of a boy being ripped into with a knife, the screen blurred with blood and the soundtrack wilted and grating to emphasize the depravity. The second death was of a boy being hacked apart by an ax and then his body parts being burned. Right after that, the psychic sister Gwen walked out of her house in a dream state and saw the boy’s dismembered and charred body strewn on her front lawn.

This. Is. Not. Normal.

Murdering children is not normal. Having children actors play out the act of being hunted and murdered by a serial killer is not normal. Watching the murder of children—fictional or not—is not normal. Witnessing a human body be hacked apart and burned beyond recognition is not normal.

In The Black Phone, the abduction and murder of the children was only inferred. The Grabber’s black van would roll onto the scene where a child from Finn’s, the main character, school was and then the scene would cut. The implication of that van showing up—absent of blood, gore, or violence—sufficiently communicated to viewers that that child was the next victim. We later see the missing children manifest in the room with Finn after he’s been abducted, but even their visible wounds were mild in comparison to what was shown in The Black Phone 2.

The Grabber’s van in The Black Phone Finn and Billy in The Black Phone

As an audience, we tend to justify viewing this kind of content by telling ourselves that it’s not real, that they’re just actors, that it’s just makeup. The concerning core aspect of that, though, is that we’re essentially making ourselves apathetic to watching people—children, in this case—being savagely killed. We have to dissociate from reality, unplug our humanity, and convince ourselves that it’s normal to witness this kind of violence and gore in order to enjoy the film. That’s not normal.

Additional Thoughts

While The Black Phone was certainly more of a psychological thriller, The Black Phone 2 was undoubtedly a horror film. When I saw the R rating for “violence,” I should have taken it more seriously, especially for my children’s sakes. In fact, I should have gone to IMDB to see what that specifically meant because they have a detailed list of all the instances of violence in the movie. What I read on that list left me appalled at what more brutality I missed and grateful that I hadn’t witnessed it for myself.

The good Christian versus bad Christian element to the story that I missed was something I stumbled into while doing research for this review. I read a post on a site that stated the creators of the movie had kept a loose Christian theme throughout, but that they wanted to portray experiences they’d had with unbecoming Christians. The report I read stated that two characters Barbara and Kenneth were righteous Christians who judged Gwen for her profanity, which isn’t what true Christians do. I also know that these two self-righteous Christians were brutally attacked in the final scene, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Isn’t determining that they deserve to die brutally for being self-righteous… self-righteous in and of itself?

What I loved so much about the first movie was the supernatural element behind Finn being able to talk to the victims through the Black Phone and God granting Gwen the clairvoyant power to find the Grabber via her dreams. In the second movie, I know that they explored more of a spiritual attack since the Grabber was dead, and that Gwen fought him in her dreams. I think that was an awesome approach to continuing the Grabber’s story into his first kills and to face him as a villain from beyond the grave.

Conclusion

The lifeblood of darkness that pumped through this film was not something I welcomed into my home, and the storytelling wasn’t worth the gruesome nature of the overall production. My twelve-year-old son’s comment as we were watching was, “Let’s turn this off. We haven’t even really made it into the movie and we’ve already had to cover our eyes twice, and there’s tarot cards? What are we doing?”

Immediately, we switched The Black Phone 2 off, prayed to cast out what we’d stumbled into from our minds and memories, and we put The Black Phone on. In comparison, the first film was tastefully crafted, emotionally disruptive without compromising our humanity, and thrilling without the need for gore or brutality. The entertainment value of this film made me rave as much on the second watch as I did on the first, if not more. That’s how you know you’ve got a five-star story.

Murder isn’t normal, and neither is witnessing it. Just because murder occurs in real life doesn’t mean we need to accept it or worship it in film.We need to be vigilant of what we allow into our heads and hearts, of how it changes us, of what we consider acceptable.

I rebuke this film in the name of Jesus, and I pray for moral and spiritual protection over anyone who watches it.

“The ole haunted McClay house on Main, you know, the one on the corner of Osage…”

From the driver’s seat of her Honda Accord, Anja looked out the rear window at the street signs crossing atop the stop sign: Main and Osage. Outside the passenger window stood a single-story house with peeling white paint and an intact bay window off to the right above the dead bushes. The windows on the left side of the house had been busted out and boarded up, and the front door on the house was missing, like an open invitation—come one, come all.

“The last tenants said Anna comes out promptly at three fifteen p.m. Same time she died.”

The dash clock read three o’clock. Right on time.

Anja’s phone buzzed in her hand, signaling a new text. She looked down at Erick’s warning following her text of the McClay house’s address. That’s a reintegration neighborhood. Lots of convicted felons live there. Be CAREFUL. Anja reassured him she would, then turned on ‘do not disturb,’ locked the phone and slid it into the garter case strapped to her thigh by a sweat-resistant Velcro band.

Anja stepped out of her Accord. Watching her surroundings, she locked the car manually and tucked her car key and apartment key into the small, zippered pocket on the garter case. The street was quiet with no evening traffic or people in sight. Though she sensed she wasn’t alone, the only presence she felt seemed to be lurking within the house before her. Evil spirit or homeless person, there was only one way to find out.

The emerald chiffon of her floor-length dress flowed with her as she moved around the car. Accenting the petals of the white floral pattern on the dress, wide, emerald straps rolled over her fragile shoulders and left a V of exposed flesh down her back. A black fabric accent belt wrapped around her midsection with its round buckle resting at her diaphragm.

As she followed the sidewalk toward the house, her toned, pale legs slipped through disguised slits in the chiffon. The dress had been custom-made for tactical situations with the priority of having her legs accessible to either evade or fight depending on the adversary.

Slowing to a stop before the darkened doorway, Anja listened for sounds of movement from inside the abandoned house. There was no shuffling, no footsteps, no voices. Only the oppressive dread of something evil awaiting her company.

Breathe in faith; breathe out fear.

“Behold, I give you all the power over the Enemy,” Anja recited a paraphrased version of Luke 10:19 as she stepped into the house.

Light wood flooring met with once-white baseboards. Drab tan walls deserved a refreshing paint job. No furniture had been left behind in the living room from when the last tenant fled, though Anja could see a small brown table with one chair at each end in the dining room off the kitchen.

The hallway to the left of the front door led to the bedrooms. Two on the left at the end of the hall with some empty chip packages and a worn sleeping bag from a squatter who hopefully wouldn’t return anytime soon. The master bed was the first door on the right with a dirty mattress on the floor and vile graffiti on the peeling wallpaper.

The bathroom was the first door on the left. Anja chose not to linger there. Not to stare at the bathtub that took a woman’s life or to stand in the hallway where the murders happened. A tragedy too grim to be possible, let alone to meditate on.

Anja returned to the front room. From that vantage point, with her back to the front door, she would see every possible attack coming.

Three fourteen, she read on her watch.

Sixty seconds until the manifestation.

Holding the round, metal buckle of the belt wrapped around her ribcage, Anja unclipped the strap and let it fall away knowing it was secured to the buckle on the other side. She wrapped the dangling strap around her left forearm in a criss-cross pattern. When the strap reached her wrist, she wrapped it twice and secured the small carabiner clip in place. In case she released the buckle in battle, it would always remain attached to her—her way of never losing her weapon.

Anja held the buckle by the edge and shook it once. A collapsible handle dropped down and locked into place. She tossed the handle up and caught it, igniting at the center of the guard a smokey white light that swirled up and solidified, forging the Sword of the Spirit.

Gurgling and dripping sounded to Anja’s left.

It’s time, she thought.

The water had been shut off months ago when the last tenants abandoned the house, but splashing and spilling confirmed that something in the bathroom overflowed. Water trickled out into the hall.

Electricity—that had been shut off with the water—buzzed and flashed purple light from the bathroom. The room where the Tall Lady had killed herself in a bloody bath.

“Mommy, please!” came from Anja’s right. She heard tiny feet scampering away but saw no children.

Splashing footsteps in water approached.

Anja faced the hall again. Opposite of the bathroom, a shadow grew upon the hallway wall. Taller, closer, splash, splash. The shadow of the figure curved up onto the ceiling.

Six foot six, the file had read.

The Tall Lady.

Out from around the corner, the figure slowly strode into the hall in a long dress and high-laced boots. Anja’s eyes enlarged as she gaped at the woman.

“Those little bastards. Always calling me, always crying, always making sound.” The Tall Lady stared at her shadow on the wall, mumbling to herself. “Always calling me, always crying, always…making…sound.”

A shiver down Anja’s spine pricked her skin with goosebumps.

The Tall Lady slowly turned until she saw Anja. Anja gasped, thinking maybe if she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, the Tall Lady would resume her residual chanting. But the Tall Lady cocked her head as she side-stepped to acknowledge Anja.

In the flashing light of the bathroom, Anja made out black sockets for the Tall Lady’s eyes, pale white skin, and dark hair pulled up into a bun. She wore a handmaid’s dress that was white from the shoulders to the waist. From the waist, tiny bloody handprints smeared down into a pool of blood at the dress’s end.

“You’re not a child. But you can see me.”

Anja held fast to the Sword.

The Tall Lady revealed a steak knife.

“She screamed because of the blood, you know?”

The echo of that night replayed for Anja. She heard choking and whimpering and a child’s body thudding to the floor.

“Mommy, please, no!”

A little girl’s blood-curdling scream continued until a squelch silenced her. More grunting and wet gagging followed by another thud.

“She was silent after that.”

The Tall Lady flashed a jagged smile, proud of her sin.

Anja’s eyes stung with tears.

Splash.

Here she comes, Anja thought.

Splash.

Anja retreated two steps for every step of the Tall Lady’s approach. Each step lured the evil spirit out of the narrow hallway into a better battlefield: the spacious living room.

“All I wanted was peace and quiet, but those wretched children kept it chaotic and noisy. Until I killed them. And you know what?”

At the end of the hall, too far from the bathroom light and blocked from what little sunlight remained of the evening, darkness veiled the Tall Lady’s features. As a black shadow, she towered over Anja. The top of Anja’s head reached the Tall Lady’s bosom. Anja calculated that all her punctures would have to be below the breasts. Any higher and the Tall Lady would see the Sword coming.

“They deserved it,”the Tall Lady whispered from the dark.

Anja held her breath. Fight response triggered. Blood pumped to her limbs.

The Tall Lady lunged out at Anja, slashing with the steak knife. Anja reflexively ducked, then stood as she retreated two steps.

The Tall Lady advanced and swiped to the right. Anja reeled back to dodge the serrated blade. She retreated two steps again, readying the Sword to take the plunge when the Tall Lady vanished mid-step.

Gasping, Anja spun to check her six. The living room behind her was empty. The Tall Lady manifested near her original position, planning to catch Anja off guard with her back turned. Anja sensed the spirit and whirled around, leaning away from another attempted throat slice. The Tall Lady slashed left, right, gaining ground against Anja who retreated a step for every slash, waiting for the Sword’s opportunity.

Slash right, slash left, right-left.

Evade, evade, retreat.

“Stay still and DIE!”

The Tall Lady rotated the knife from slice to stab. She drilled it down, aiming for Anja’s jugular. Anja swept the tip of the Sword across the floor, lifted it up into the air, and went full circle back to the floor.

The Tall Lady wailed in agony.As Anja’s sword fell, so did the Tall Lady’s severed hand still clutching the knife.

“What have you done!”

Flames spewed from below the floorboards, encircling the Tall Lady’s hand, welcoming the appendage back home to Hell.

Anja watched the flames be swallowed back beneath the floorboards, leaving behind a black ring on the wood. A fire scar, the only evidence there had been a demonic hand and knife.

The Tall Lady clutched her amputated wrist to her chest as she cowered from Anja. “Stay away! It’s the Spirit… the Spirit of Him, the Holy One! Keep away!” She snarled like a cornered beast and swiped her remaining claw at Anja. “GET BACK!”

Anja took another step. “You’re not the spirit of Anna McClay.”

The Tall Lady growled something inhumanly feral that was meant to scare the exorcist, but Anja would not be shaken. Rather, she took another step, closing in on her adversary.

“Human spirits are bound to Heaven or Hell after death. But demons roam this earth seeking those whom they may devour,” Anja said with another step.

The Tall Lady charged at Anja who reared the Sword back for the exorcism. Again, the Tall Lady’s apparition vanished before Anja’s eyes. This time, Anja felt the oppressive energy of the demon pass over her like a dense cloud. Anja tracked the energy across the room where the Tall Lady reassembled her apparition near the only intact window in the living room and then punched it. Glass shattered and spilled into the bush outside and onto the floor inside. The Tall Lady gripped a large shard with a wicked sneer.

Anja fearlessly took off toward the Tall Lady. The Tall Lady’s boots boomed against the wood as she raged toward Anja, shard raised.

Closing the gap, Anja slammed to a stop as the Tall Lady disappeared again. Anja had anticipated it and pivoted to face the Tall Lady in mid-manifestation. Anja extended the Sword, and the demon walked right into the ethereal blade.

The Tall Lady dropped the shard and looked down at the Sword sticking through her midsection. White light crept from the entry point to every dark crevice of the Tall Lady’s spirit, searing her from the inside out and crumbling her to a tornado of dust. Flames from Hell collapsed the floor beneath the spirit and a fiery pit swallowed the remains of the Tall Lady.

The house cleansing was successful.

Anja unwrapped the strap from her forearm, tapped the hilt of the Sword to compact the handle, pressed the handle to her diaphragm, and wrapped the strap around her ribs. She clipped the dangling strap back to the side of the handle, firmly securing the Sword of the Spirit around her torso.

Lenny’s voice completed the story in Anja’s memory. “The first family to live there since the murders up and left in the middle of the night. The daughter kept seeing the ghost of Anna McClay. Called her ‘the Tall Lady,’ said she had a knife. The mom saw it too one night. She said Anna tried to hand her the knife. Instead of taking it, she took her daughter and ran and never looked back. The house has been empty ever since.”

The demon had impersonated Anna McClay with the intent to coerce another mother to kill for it. How many other families would have suffered the manifestations? How many other parents would have taken the knife? How many more children would have had their blood spilled within these walls?

Teary-eyed, Anja blinked away from the hallway and stared at the fire scars on the floor. No more now.

“Victory is the Lord’s,” she said, then nodded a salutation to the house and took her leave.

Once outside, Anja closed her eyes and crumbled to the steps leading off the porch where she wept for the McClays. Their tiny, bloody handprints flashed before her eyes as the grim sounds of their deaths echoed in her mind. Three and four years old was too young to die.

And Anna… Reports online claimed she had been suffering from untreated postpartum depression. Her husband had left her shortly after the birth of young Porter McClay. Anna had reached out to family and friends for help with the children, only for her needs to fall on deaf ears. The demon isolated her and capitalized on her weakness, convincing her the only way out of her sickness was through the elimination of its source.

After realizing what she’d done, Anna had made a call to her mother confessing she regretted killing them. Grief-stricken, she ran herself a bath, plugged in the toaster, and took the plunge to her own death. Never had she experienced freedom from her torment, for from depression came another sickness, and she saw no way out except the eternal end.

“Damn the Devil,” Anja whispered as she hugged her knees, tears streaming down her pinked cheeks.

A car door closed somewhere nearby. Sniffling, Anja looked up to see a car two houses to her right that hadn’t been there when she arrived. Two men climbed out of it to meet a third man who’d stepped out of the house they’d parked at. When the white guy in the tank top, sagging shorts, and sandals noticed her sitting there, Anja knew it was time to go.

She parted her dress to retrieve her keys and rushed to her car, locking the door and immediately starting the engine once she was safely inside. She pulled her phone out and text Erick her next destination: Headed to church.

“Hello, bave.”

Anja gasped so hard her chest tightened and her back went ramrod straight.

“Miss me?” a voice growled from the backseat.

Anja’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror where she met a set of familiar brown eyes. Fear surged from her soul and exploded from her mouth in a vocal rejection of his presence. “No!”

A tan arm shot forward and wrapped around Anja’s throat, crushing her windpipe. Anja gasped for air, but scratching at the arm proved useless. She abandoned getting her windpipe free to reach for the door lock.

“C…c…c..” Can’t breathe…

Anja banged her hand on the door, desperate to get the latch open, to get out, to get air. She felt darkness nearing. Her sight narrowed as if the curtain on her existence began to close.

“We miss you, Anja,” David said, his voice wickedly warped.

As if in her final moment of life, Anja saw her entire relationship with her ex-boyfriend David from start to end. All the good, the scary, and the forgotten. All of it resurfaced in a flash before her mind’s eye and punched her healed heart.

“And now I’ve found you.”

Anja squeaked out a ‘no’ as her fingers tucked behind the door handle. She ripped it toward herself and threw her knee into the door, thrusting it open. Rotating to the right so her legs would hang out of the car, she managed to twist out of the choke hold and slide from the seat. She landed hard on the pavement, first on her knees then catching herself with her hands. Coughing, she dropped to a seated position and turned to face the threat in her car. But he was gone. Her backseat was empty.

Anja let her head fall back, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes as she caught her breath. It knows where I am, and if the demon knows, so does David.

Which meant he would be coming.

Delivered From Dread will be available on 12/31/25!

On November 15th, 2025, I was blessed with the opportunity to participate in the city of Independence’s police ride-along program. I was partnered up with Officer Jamie Welsh, who couldn’t have been a more divine match for my intentions of gaining experience and knowledge to authenticate the police officers in my spiritual warfare books.

Riding with Officer Welsh

Despite having preferred to spend his twelve-hour shift to himself, Officer Welsh spent eleven hours answering every single question I had related to his occupation and to hypothetical situations from my book. Not once was I made to feel unwelcome by him, and I never got the impression that my unquenchable curiosity was bothersome to him. He ever so graciously explained police procedures and terminology so I could comprehend the information and then apply it to my story. Going one step further, he tailored all of his responses to what I’d told him about my book and characters specifically. I couldn’t be more grateful for all his investment into making my ride along the most informative eleven hours of my life.

Officer Welsh was a wicked awesome dude worthy of character inspiration all on his own. As soon as he walked in to collect me for the ride, I thanked God that I got paired with him because he looked like the type of guy who dominates when challenged and tells it like it is, and he did not disappoint! Welsh also had a knack for physics and was able to teach me how bullets would react under all sorts of conditions. He had outstanding command presence and had control over every scene he stepped foot on. I’ll never forget how badass he looked with his assault rifle in his lap on that last call. The threat of a suicide turning into a homicide had him at the ready to defend himself, the public, and me depending on how the situation went down. No matter what the action was that day, Welsh was ready to gear up and answer the call, and it’s men like him that make our city and lives safer.

Perspective on the Police

I encourage everyone to participate in a ride along. Not only will it open your eyes to why the law is effective when enforced, but it’ll broaden your perspective on the officers who enforce it. As someone who’s never gotten in trouble with the police, I had very little interaction with officers before starting the Citizen’s Academy class through the police department, so my understanding of law enforcement was based on the skewed and often inaccurate perception of them in the media and movies. Cops really aren’t what you likely believe they are—they’re better.

Getting to spend some time with on-duty officers humanizes them. Instead of just seeing a uniform, you get to see the person underneath. Spending eleven hours in the car with Officer Welsh allowed me to get to know a little bit about him, his family, his likes and dislikes, his pet peeves, and his outlook on his job. He’s a highly intelligent, quick-witted man who loves his family and has a blunt, sarcastic sense of humor that had me constantly entertained. In every car is a person like Jamie Welsh. A human being with someone hoping they make it home alive at the end of the day. Don’t let media or movies persuade you to believe they’re anything less.

Also, I guarantee that what you think you know about what cops actually do or think while on duty likely isn’t what they’re actually doing or thinking.

A Few Things I Learned

When you see a cop, don’t let the first words out of your mouth be “I didn’t do it.” That’s like telling a cashier that something “must be free” because it won’t scan. Nobody wants to hear the same line a thousand times. Cops appreciate a simple nod or friendly wave.Don’t approach officers and ask for legal advice—they can’t provide it to you. There are all sorts of circumstantial factors that prevent this, including but not limited to whose jurisdiction the case falls under, when the incident occurred, and the fact that they don’t have time to obtain all the case-specific details necessary to offer advice. You pull up on an officer and ask for advice, the only advice you’re getting is to file a report at the station.If a cop pulls up behind you in traffic, get out of their way. Some calls require them to arrive quickly without lights and sirens, so you slowing down to not get a ticket is actually impeding the flow of traffic and preventing them from doing their job. Get into the other lane and let them pass you.If they have their lights and sirens on and they pull up behind you when you’re stopped at a red light, MOVE! Every second you spend debating what you should do instead of taking action to do something is a second shaved off the call they’re responding to. That precious time could be the difference between someone living or dying, someone being found or lost, or someone getting caught or escaping.

I firmly believe everyone who has an opinion about the police should participate in a ride along to gain a realistic perspective. Officer Welsh was the coolest guy, and he quite literally brought to life scenes similar to those in my book that I’d only ever seen play out in my head. His humor and knowledge made the slow start to the day memorable, and his generosity at providing in-depth answers to all of my questions has been imperative to the chapters I’ve already written and the ones to come. I couldn’t be more grateful to have been partnered with him for this unforgettable experience.

Thank you, Officer Welsh!

As a career beta reader, over a dozen manuscripts will come across my desk in a month’s time. And from my experience, there are three things writers can do to improve the interaction with the beta readers handling their books.

1) Properly Name Your Manuscript

When I receive a manuscript during a beta reading order, I file it in a folder alongside other manuscripts from authors I’m also beta reading for. To easier navigate which novels belong to which authors, having properly labeled manuscripts helps. Titles like “Version 1.2” or “Danny’s Beta Read” don’t clearly identify what the file is. Labeling the manuscript to match the title of the book or your name as the author would be most helpful.

Don’t: Be lenient when naming your manuscript’s file.

Instead: Name the file to match either the title of the book or the author’s name so beta readers can easily find the file in a list of others.

2) Prepare a Questionnaire Beforehand

Clients are required to list specifics they want me to focus on during the beta read when they submit an order. For some reason, they don’t include questions in this section but love to send me a questionnaire after I deliver the manuscript and my Reader Report to them. The problem with this is that beta readers allocate time for questionnaires when the order is open, so to answer the questionnaire after the order is completed is like your manager asking you to do training videos after you’ve clocked out for the day. Personally, when I complete a beta read, I jump right into the next order in my queue, so to take the time to answer a questionnaire for the previous book cuts into time intended for the new order.

To be clear, follow-up questions are the exception. For instance, if I submit the Reader Report and a client has questions regarding it or the in-line comments in the manuscript, that’s always welcome.

Don’t: Wait until after the beta read order is completed to send a questionnaire to your beta reader.

Instead: Send the questionnaire at the start of the beta reading order so they can set aside time to answer them in addition to reading the novel.

3) Be Flexible

On a few accounts, I’ve had clients who needed a bit more help than I had anticipated. An hour-long video call ended up stretching into a four-hour video call because the writer needed guidance with establishing the foundation of their story. While I’m happy to help, that time cut into time I had set aside for the next beta read. This happened three times in one week back in March, forcing me to push a few scheduled orders from their original due date. I was beyond grateful that the clients whose orders I had to push were understanding and flexible in giving me more time.

Business circumstances vary from book to book and from client to client. Some 150-page books only take a day for me to read, others can take up to four days. Some clients are in-and-out while others linger with follow-up questions for days after the order is complete. This work is subjective, so try to be as flexible as possible with your beta reader.

Also, remember that your beta reader is human with a life outside of beta reading your book. That doesn’t mean that their personal issues may ever be used as an excuse to provide unsatisfactory work or a late delivery, but it does mean that life happens. Kids get sick, family members pass away, cars get into accidents, emergency house repairs pop up… You’ve experienced issues like these, so remember that your beta reader does, too. Showing some grace by kindly extending the delivery date helps.

Don’t: Bash your beta reader for asking for an extension of time on the order.

Instead: Try to understand that beta readers are people with outside lives and other clients.

As a beta reader, it’s my pleasure to serve writers. My priority is to deliver a timely service with thorough, constructive feedback. Having clients whose manuscripts are easy to find, who send the questionnaire with the manuscript, and who are flexible aid me in achieving the best beta reading experience for both buyer and seller.

If you’re a beta reader, let me know any tips I missed that you find helpful!

Family—it can be the one aspect of our lives that makes us or breaks us. For the last nine months, my family has been broken apart. My older sister and my four-year-old nephew were estranged from the rest of us as a result of a lifelong feud between her and my younger sister. With no idea where my older sister and nephew were living, what the conditions were like, or if her seizures had caused her to fall in a way that claimed her life, I was distraught and in constant prayer for their protection and provision.

At night, I would lay in bed wondering if my sweet little nephew was being bullied by other kids like at his last house. If he had clothes and toys and food, all the things a child should have. If, when I saw him next, he would be all grown up and too big for me to scoop up and hold. Would so much time have passed that he doesn’t even remember me?

I would reach out to my older sister through Facebook, but she would only ever read my messages, never reply. And for nine months, I’d often cried myself to sleep, clenching pillows, completely inconsolable, wondering how my family had gotten to this point. My only comfort was in the Lord’s arms, knowing He would take care of them in the quiet.

After nine months of praying without seeing any results, there had certainly been fear that my family would be stuck like this—torn apart and hating each other. But I had seen God do miracles in my life that prove nothing is too great for Him. And I clung onto that faith, onto Christ so tightly, believing that He was working behind the scenes in my sister’s life and heart. I kept the image in my head of my little nephew running into my arms as a present hope, and I never gave up on the possibility that it would be a reality again one day.

On February 25th, 2024, Jesus walked my sister and nephew to me. For the first time in almost a year, I got to hold my nephew in my arms. I got to hear his voice call out my name, I got all the cheek kisses and “I love yous” my little heart could handle. I got to squeeze my sister and hear her testimony on how God had swept in to provide for her when she couldn’t do it for herself. To hear her utter the name of Jesus and profess His goodness for the first time in thirty years of my life, I was brought to tears instantly.

Jesus heard my prayers, and He answered them. He healed my family. He brought us together again.

Prayers don’t always happen instantaneously. There were things my sister needed to do inwardly before she could be reunited with me. God was on the move for those nine months, healing her and rebuilding her life. And when she was ready, she made the call I never gave up hope on receiving.

God’s timing is perfect. Trust Him. Just because you haven’t seen your blessing yet doesn’t mean it’s not on its way.

Never give up hope. Keep praying.

Source: Pinterest

Ten years ago, I cast Im Jaebum to play my character Kandahar. I needed a tall, artistic Asian man of a certain age to play my oppressed musician turned possessed leader. God showed me JB, leader of a K-Pop group called GOT7.

JB was everything I had imagined. He had the intensity of my possessed leader, but he could also display the pain of my oppressed musician. The first time I laid eyes on him, I felt like my character had come to life in a person. Of course, JB would never be Kandahar, not in the realistic sense—JB was his own person. But it’s getting to know Im Jaebum that led me to discover seven of the most talented, hardworking, hilarious men.

Pinterest

I’m not going to pretend that I know any of these guys by having watched them through a screen for ten years. Until I meet them, I can only speak to their talents as musicians, and my, have they all many skills. I’ve watched them grow from boys into men, from students into teachers. I’ve watched them blossom into their identities as artists, the individual sound of each member in their solo tracks. To celebrate their decade of achievements, I want to share one of my favorite songs by each of the members.

Im Jaebum

The sensual intensity of JB could be found in majority of his solo tracks, one of my favorites being “Sunrise.” The duality of his gentility is easy to see in his single “Rocking Chair.”

Park Jinyoung

Tied for my favorite Jinyoung song are “The Day,” which is a jazzy play on Jinyoung’s poetic side; the second being his irresistibly fun single “Cotton Candy.”

Mark Tuan

My all-time favorite of Mark’s songs is “Fallin’.” The catchy guitar pluck, the romantic lyrics, his voice. Did I mention that the video is ’50s themed with a RED MUSTANG? It’s like he made the video based on my heart’s themes.

Jackson Wang

Jackson has a knack for unforgettable music video stories, and one of my favorites is “Cruel.” The aesthetics and the power of the song are flawless. But then, listen to the lyrics and the imagery of “Bullet to the Heart,” and you’ll realize how hard it is to choose a favorite of his music.

Bambam

Bambam’s “Sour and Sweet” has that bouncy tune that you can’t help but bop along to. He has always been bursting with color, and he has a one-of-a-kind style that separates him from all others in K-Pop.

Choi Youngjae

Youngjae is the only guy I’ve ever seen who’s able to pull off a full-denim outfit, and he does it masterfully in his plucky song “Vibin’.” His smile, his laugh, his energy is always contagiously joyous.

Kim Yugyeom

Of course, the baby of our group is also the tallest of all the members. The irony, right? I love his entire persona in the song “Ponytail” (without Sik-K).

Proud can’t even begin to describe how I feel about all the success I’ve seen these guys achieve over the last decade. Having watched them grow up, grow into their talents, and grow independently has been beyond a pleasure of mine. God abiding, I’ll be here to support GOT7 through their solo careers for another ten years!

Pinterest

Side Note: After GOT7 was freed from their oppressor, JYP Entertainment, JB obtained the rights to the group and their music. Since then, the guys have all pursued individual careers as artists and actors, and they occasionally come together to perform once again as the well-loved group.

As a beta reader, I hadn’t set a personal goal for how many books to read in 2023. When I hit the fifty mark, I wondered, What if I get to eighty? And then when I hit eighty with clients booked out for a month, I realized that reaching one hundred was not only achievable but probable.

When I hit the 100th beta read of the year, it was a 589-page book and a wonderfully entertaining story. I celebrated the achievement by sending my kids off with a babysitter, ordering myself a cheese pizza, and dancing with a slice of pizza in one hand and a root beer in the other.

To all of the authors that I’ve beta read for in 2023, I’m beyond grateful to have worked with you. All of your stories and characters live in my head, and I’m so excited for all of the publications to come in 2024. To all the authors I’ve worked with who published in 2023, your book is either already on my bookshelf or on its way there!

I have no goal set for 2024 except to see where God takes my beta reading gig. I believe He has called me to step more into a full-time career with beta reading, so I’m excited to see how He’s going to move and where I will be at the start of 2025.

Thank you all for trusting me with your books. Beta reading for some is just a means for passive income. Beta reading for me is about receiving manuscripts (the heart of an author) and with sincere care, raw honesty, and unparalleled thoroughness, preparing that book for publication.

Medieval crime and action, a supernatural thriller, and unpredictable science fiction. Here are three of my favorite books of the year so far.

Hand of the Executioner by: Sebastian Priest

Viktor the Executioner is by far one of my favorite male characters in all of fantasy. The dark content of the book isn’t something I’d normally pick up, but once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t get enough of Viktor. He’s sarcastic and menacing, yet he’s morally righteous, and his romantic side is absolutely desirable. The book has themes of a crime novel, with Viktor playing detective, and themes of fantasy with the coolest dungeon ghosts I’ve ever read. I love the City of Chains book series (there are three books so far), and I’m on the edge waiting for the next one.

Cold Keep: Reprisal by: James Lurid

A prison tormented by a blood-thirsty beast and a cast of characters you’d die for are the top two reasons Cold Keep: Reprisal will be one of your favorite reads of the year. I first fell in love with the nineties-themed cover of the book (not the one featured on Amazon) anticipating it would have that nineties crime feel, and I certainly got that and more! The book was twisted in a way I hadn’t anticipated. There were scenes where I sat terrified, shrunk in my reading chair covered in goosebumps reading a million words a minute to see what happens next. And if Eddie doesn’t just tug at your heart strings, I don’t know a character that will. I loved this book from the opening chapter and craved more of it by the end.

The Undulating Shadows by: DC Eastman

The most memorable moment of this book was the M. Night Shyamalan moment at the end that tied the details together in a way I never saw coming! DC Eastman’s crafting of characters had me both in tears and terror reading the stories and fates that brought them together. What is the shadow that haunts the characters as kids and traumatizes them as adults? Will the unusual band of friends be able to stop it before it claims more lives? I’ll tell ya, I couldn’t put the book down until I found out! I want to pour out how much I love this book, but I don’t want to spoil anything! You’ll just have to read it for yourself.

If you read any of these books, don’t forget to leave a review! Thanks for reading.

Want to work out, but never have the time? Yeah, I’ve been there. As a single mom working two jobs, I barely have time to breathe let alone work out. But when I couldn’t fit into my size 6 pants, the same size I’ve worn my entire adult life, I knew I had a choice to make: buy new pants a few sizes bigger to fit, or earn my body back. Let’s just say those size 6 red denim weren’t getting replaced. I decided to make time to work out.

It wasn’t easy, though. For every determined commitment I made, the Devil had two lies to follow, and they almost always shut me down. I hope that if these lies have impacted your motivation to work out, you can find inspiration from the truths that helped me defeat them.

Lie #1: Thirty minutes won’t make a difference.

The Devil used to tell me that 30 minutes of exercise a day wasn’t going to get me anywhere. That in order to lose weight, I’d have to spend an hour or more in the gym doing a full-body workout. My first 30-minute workout with Fitness Blender begged to differ.

Try doing a wall sit for a minute. It’s strenuous, right? And that’s just 60 seconds. Now imagine thirty alternating exercises over the course of thirty minutes, or perhaps thirty minutes of continuous exercise like jogging. With a disciplined, unbroken schedule, you can tone your muscles and shred fat in that amount of time.

Lie #2: You don’t have time to spare on a workout.

When lie #1 didn’t stop me from gearing up to work out, Satan would tell me that I don’t have 30 minutes to spare. That if I spent those 30 minutes working out instead of working my job, I was going to get behind on orders and not be able to spend time with my kids. But God reminded me that with all things that truly matter, you have to make time for them, exercising included. So I did.

For over a month now, I’ve been jogging outside my apartment complex for 30 minutes every other day. Turns out, working out for those 30 minutes made me more productive at my job, and it has made a difference in my weight. I’ve almost completely lost my muffin top, and I can see definition around my baby fat now. I’ve got a ways to go to be my ideal feel, but I fit in my size 6 denim again!

Of course, every body is different and requires tailored physical exercise based on multiple factors like body type, weight goals, and medical conditions. Managing your diet by avoiding fatty, sugary foods helps too. And getting more than four hours of sleep has made a world of difference. But it’s the habit of eating healthier, sleeping well, and working out that helped me slim down to fit in those denim.

The point isn’t to copy and paste my routine to your lifestyle. The point of this post is to tell you not to believe the Devil’s lies. If thirty minutes is all you’ve got, it is enough. And if you ever think you won’t have enough time to work out, please make time for it. Just as you make time for your spouse and kids, you should also make time for your health.

Above all, discipline and consistency is key! Don’t be discouraged that you don’t see changes after the first, second, or third day. It took me about five weeks of the constant routine before I noticed my hips had gone down. But it was the little improvements along the way that kept me going: firmer discipline, uplifted mood, and sharper focus.

Don’t believe the lies of the Enemy. He wants to keep you captive to a body that could be healthier. Don’t let him. Break those chains. Start today.

And let me know how it goes!

Hospital visits are no stranger to me. I’m the type to only go to the doctor if there’s a problem I can’t solve myself with home remedies. This was one of those problems.

For close to a month, I have been gaining unexplained weight. All my adult life, I’ve been a size 4 and have only weighed around 126 pounds. When I couldn’t fit into my trousers, I thought my metabolism had slowed down due to my career change―I’d gone from working on my feet to working at my desk. So I increased my exercise and reduced my sugar intake. It didn’t help. I tried eating smaller meals more often throughout the day. It didn’t help. I tried sleeping more than four hours a day. It didn’t help. I thrive on stress, but even reducing that didn’t help.

Then I noticed my feet were bulging out of shoes I’ve been wearing off and on for years now. I elevated my feet while I worked from home, but the swelling rushed right back. That’s when I knew I wasn’t just gaining weight.

I did what any normal person would do. I googled my symptoms; the results were, of course, terrifying. Liver failure, kidney failure, or congestive heart failure. I called my doctor right away to set up an appointment, but the availability wasn’t until August. I knew I couldn’t wait two months. So, hospital here I come!

When called back for triage, I listed all my symptoms―not that I had to considering how noticeable the swelling was in my calves and feet―and the first question out of the nurse’s mouth was, “Any family history of heart problems?”

Right then, it hit me: this could really be my heart.

I decided to look up the symptoms and treatment of congestive heart failure. I was experiencing everything on the list. Not just one or two, but all of the symptoms. The worst part is: over 50% of people diagnosed with congestive heart failure survived only five years after the diagnosis.

My first thought reading that was not fear, surprisingly. Not the fear of “I should have done more for God” or “I should have spent more time with my family” or “I don’t want to die; there’s so much left to do.” I felt peace overcome me. The peace of knowing that this might be what brings me home to Christ.

For me, death is a beautiful end to a lifetime of stories. It’s God saying, “Time to come home, Daughter.” And I am beyond willing to come when God calls me. This world is not my home, and nothing in this world is worth hanging onto. Not even the people I love because I know I will see them again.

That is the comfort of being Christian. That though we feel death’s sting when we lose a loved one, we persevere without them by holding onto the confidence that we will be reunited in Heaven.

The apostle Paul offers this comfort in First Thessalonians 4:16-17:

“…and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds…”

Remembering God’s truth saw me through the entire hospital visit and diagnosis. There is comfort in knowing that, should I die in the next five-to-ten years, I will see my children again because we have all put our faith in Jesus Christ and have chosen Heaven as our final destination.

This comfort is offered to all who believe in Jesus. To those who believe He died and rose from the grave and ascended into Heaven. If you choose to follow Christ, that’s where you’re choosing to follow Him to: Heaven, where you will be reunited with all those you love who died as believers too.

I know where I’m going when my years run out. I’ll be waiting for my children to join me in the Promised Land.

Want to learn more about Jesus’ promise of everlasting life? Feel free to email me at writerdannyraye@gmail.com! Thank you for reading.