A publication I read regularly—Voice of the Martyrs—has done more than stir my heart. It has wrecked me. Every issue is a gut punch. A fire. A wake-up call. Stories of believers imprisoned, tortured, executed—simply for loving Jesus—cut deeper than words. These are not just tales of courage; they are blood-soaked cries from the front lines of faith. And they’ve changed everything for me.
They’ve changed how I pray.
They’ve changed how I minister.
And they’ve absolutely changed how I write.

You see, I was a nurse—a combat veteran. I’ve trained my hands to stop bleeding, my mind to brace for worst-case scenarios, and my spirit to stay alert in chaos. Ministry and writing, for me, now follow that same pattern. I no longer write for comfort. I write like the person on the other end of the page is bleeding out. Like this might be their last hope. I don’t waste time. I don’t sugarcoat. I don’t want to write sermons with soft landings—I write spiritual trauma kits.
Here are three raw, battlefield-tested tips for writing and ministry that have consumed me with urgency and transformed my approach:
1. Write for the bleeding. Not the browsing.
When you sit down to write, don’t imagine someone curled up with coffee and a blanket. Imagine someone in chains. Someone hiding underground. Someone trembling in a courtroom for refusing to deny Christ. Your words must become lifelines—sharp, clear, soaked in truth and love.
“Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter.” — Proverbs 24:11
2. Pray like it’s war—because it is.
Voice of the Martyrs taught me to pray like my brothers and sisters are being hunted—because many are. Prayer isn’t a nice intro to ministry. It is the ministry. If you’re not praying from your guts, don’t expect your words to penetrate anyone else’s.
“The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results.” — James 5:16 (NLT)
3. Prepare for impact.
Jesus didn’t send His disciples out to be admired—He sent them out to be spent. Writing and ministry that actually transforms will always cost you something. Your comfort. Your pride. Your illusions. So brace for backlash. And keep going.
“But I will very gladly spend and be spent for your souls…” — 2 Corinthians 12:15
…And remember: One of the most uplifting and joy-filled letters in the New Testament—Philippians—was written by Paul while he was in prison. Chained. Beaten. Awaiting trial. And yet his words overflow with hope, love, and resurrection power. If that doesn’t reframe your mission, nothing will.
You may be ministering and setting someone else free while you are in the worst battle of your life.
Let that settle in your bones. Your scars are not a disqualification—they’re your credentials. Your storm does not discredit your message—it anoints it. Sometimes, the most powerful ministry you’ll ever do is when you’re bleeding, bruised, and barely breathing—but still clinging to Jesus.
Your life, your perseverance, your refusal to back down—that will preach louder than any platform. That will carry more weight than a thousand eloquent sermons. That adds holy fire to your words. Because people don’t just hear your message—they feel your survival in it.
“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned…” — 2 Corinthians 4:8–9
When I write, I write for the one in the furnace.
When I minister, I minister to the bound and broken.
Because I know what it is to fight for breath—and I know the One who gives it.
This is not just a calling. It’s a commission in combat. So if you’re called to write, preach, or minister in any capacity, do it with fire in your bones and tears in your eyes. Speak as if you are speaking to the underground church, the abused, the soldier, the prisoner, the soul just barely holding on. Holy Spirit, lead me to the one crying out for you!
Write like they’re bleeding.
Minister like it’s war.
And love like Jesus is standing in the room—because He is.
L. Abigail Bradeen
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