Zena Jean Christian Coaching

As a child, I loved watching the cartoon, Mr Benn. He would step into a changing room and come out as someone different.

What if the valley is God’s changing room?

Not because we glorify pain, disappointment or hardship—but because we glorify the God who transforms us through them.

So often we ask, “How do I get out of this?”

Perhaps a better question is, “Lord, what are You wanting to change in me while I’m here?”

Teaching on identity this week reminded me how easily our focus can stay on I.

I am righteous.
I am chosen.
I am loved.
I am saved.
…and so on.

Every one of those statements is true.
But perhaps we need to shift the lens.

Because of Him, I am.

Because of Him, I am righteous.
Because of Him, I am chosen.
Because of Him, I am loved.
Because of Him, I am saved.

It’s the same truth, but a completely different focus.

This week I asked a friend, “What would the five-years-older version of you say to the you of today?”

I think it’s a question worth sitting with.

Not to force change, but to notice where I may have quietly become greater than He.

Proverbs 16:9 reminds us, “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.” Proverbs 16:33 (NLT) echoes the same truth: “We may throw the dice, but the Lord determines how they fall.”

We don’t stop planning. We don’t stop growing. We don’t stop stepping forward in faith.

We boldly make decisions, even when we don’t fully know the outcome.

But we do let go of trying to control the outcome.

Because when we cling too tightly to what we think should happen, we often lose the joy of the journey God is inviting us into.

If the outcome ultimately belongs to Him, how much of our striving is really necessary?

Five years from now, will you look back and remember all the striving? Or will you thank God that you shifted your lens and allowed Him to transform you, by His grace and for His glory?

Christian coaching isn’t about having all the answers.

It’s about creating space to reflect, grow, and gently shift the lens back to Jesus.

So today, don’t unpack your bags and camp in the valley.
Allow God to use the valley as the changing room.

Coaching question: Where in your life do you need to shift your focus from I to He?

There are moments in life that shake us.

Moments that challenge us, cause us to question ourselves, question others, and sometimes even question God.

I’ve certainly had those moments.

Like so many people I meet, we wrestled with the questions:
What’s next?
How do I change?
Which path should I take?

As I prepare to speak on identity, I’ve realised how easy it is to become consumed with the what next questions, while overlooking the what now.

Scripture never tells us that our identity or worth is determined by our success. It never suggests that having everything together is the measure of faithfulness.

Instead, the Bible tells us something far deeper.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” - 2 Corinthians 5:17

When we place our faith in Christ, we aren’t simply given a second chance to clean ourselves up. We are made new. We receive a completely new identity.

Yet often the people I coach ask the same questions:
“What’s my purpose?”
“How do I change?”

They’re good questions. Honest questions. I doubt there’s a person alive who hasn’t asked them.

But what if there’s more to life than constantly achieving?

What if the world’s obsession with doing more has quietly shaped the way we see ourselves?

What if the deepest transformation happens, not in striving, but in abiding?

Now don’t get me wrong.
Passivity really irks me.
Abiding isn’t the same as doing nothing.

Throughout Scripture we see God inviting people to move—to step out in faith, to serve, to love, to build, to create, to disciple and to use the gifts He has given them. Even our bodies were designed for movement. Muscles weaken when they’re not used. Nature itself is constantly growing, stretching towards the light and producing new life.

But here’s the difference.

Nature doesn’t grow so it can prove its worth.

A tree doesn’t strive to become an apple tree. It already is one. It bears fruit because of its identity, not in order to earn one.

Jesus said, “Remain in me… and you will bear much fruit” - John 15:4-5

Notice the order.

Abiding comes first.

Fruit follows.

Our culture reverses it. It tells us to produce first, achieve more, work harder, build a bigger platform, and then perhaps we’ll feel like we’ve become someone.

There’s nothing wrong with growth, promotion or success.
But they’re terrible places to build an identity.

Because when success becomes our identity, we’ll spend our lives chasing the next achievement instead of enjoying the presence of the One who gave us our identity in the first place.

Perhaps beneath all the noise is a quieter longing in so many. A longing to find the peace to simply become who we were created to be.
To step off the relentless treadmill of performance.

To breathe.

To slow down.

Coaching isn’t simply about discovering what’s next or achieving another goal.

Sometimes the greatest gift is creating space.

Space to think.

Space to process.

Space to be seen.

Space to notice where God is already at work.

Because we were never created to be human doings. We were created to be human beings.

Life will still stretch us. It will still leave us with questions and moments of uncertainty.

But when our identity is rooted in Christ, we always have somewhere to stand.

We don’t need all the answers to know who we are.

That’s what abiding really is—not having life all figured out, but resting in the One who already knows.

Sometimes we place our calling inside a box.

A church.
A job.
A ministry.
A title.

But God rarely works within the limits we create.

Our calling isn’t a place—it’s who He has created us to be. Wherever we go, our calling goes with us.

I wonder how often we expect God to move only in the spaces that feel familiar, while He is quietly preparing something beyond what we can currently see.

What keeps us in the box?

Fear of failure.
Loyalty to what has always been.
That’s mine mentality.
Comfort.
Lack of time.
Uncertainty.
Sometimes even our identity.

When our identity is rooted in what we do, or where we serve, stepping into something new can feel like we’re losing part of ourselves. But when our identity is rooted in Christ, we become free to follow wherever He leads.

The unknown will always feel uncomfortable. Human nature prefers certainty over challenge. Yet it is often just beyond our comfort zone that God grows our faith, broadens our perspective, and opens doors we never imagined.

The beautiful thing is this: when the calling is God-given, we don’t have to force it. We simply walk with Him, remain available, and faithfully take the next step.

Paul reminds us:

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” — Epistle to the Ephesians 2:10

What if God has already prepared opportunities that you simply haven’t discovered yet?

Not because you’ve done something wrong.
Not because you’ve missed His will.
But because He’s inviting you to trust Him one step at a time.

Today, take five quiet minutes and reflect:

• Where do I feel most stuck?

• Have I placed my calling inside a box?

• If I believed God had already prepared good works ahead of me, what possibilities would I become more open to?

• What is one small step I could take this week to make myself available to whatever God has waiting?

Don’t box your calling.

Don’t box God’s possibilities.

There may be more waiting for you than you ever imagined.

There is something incredibly powerful about pulling up a chair. Having a place at the table for someone. A meal or a coffee.

Truthfully, it isn’t really about the food… although I would say good coffee certainly helps.

It’s about what happens when we intentionally create space for another person.

Something shifts.

The conversation slows. We stop rushing. We stop passing each other in hallways or commenting on social media posts. We become present.

We listen.

We laugh.

We ask questions.

One of the greatest lessons coaching has taught me is that people rarely need more advice—they need someone willing to truly listen. And when we ask little questions, thoughts change.

We begin to know someone beyond the surface.

A table has a wonderful way of levelling the room. There is no stage, no audience, no hierarchy. Whether you’re a CEO, a tradie, a pastor, a student or retired, everyone has a chair. Everyone has a place. Around the table, titles matter far less than stories.

Growing up, Sunday lunch was simply what we did.

No one asked if we had time. No one wondered if it would fit in the diary. Family gathered. Friends dropped in. We talked about life, laughed at silly stories and caught up on what had happened during the week.

Looking back, I realise it wasn’t really the meal that nourished us.

It was each other.

Today we are more connected than any generation in history. We can message someone across the world in seconds. We can video call, share photos instantly and keep up with hundreds of people online.

Yet I can’t help but ask…

Are we actually closer?

Are people truly being seen?

Are they known?

Or have we confused connection with proximity?

One of the themes I explore in my next book is that loneliness isn’t simply about being alone. We can be surrounded by people and still feel unseen. We can have hundreds of online friends yet nobody who really knows what’s happening in our world.

Perhaps one of the simplest ways to change that is to pull up another chair.

Jesus demonstrated this better than anyone.

So much of His ministry happened around hospitality. Around meals. Around ordinary tables. People encountered grace while eating, asking questions, sharing stories and simply being welcomed. Before they belonged, they were invited to sit.

I love that.

Not because we can invite everyone to dinner—we can’t.

Not because we can have coffee with every person we meet—that isn’t possible either.

But every one of us can choose one person.

One conversation.

One invitation.

One chair.

Ironically, I don’t think bigger gatherings are always the answer either. In fact, people often disappear in crowds. Sometimes the most meaningful conversations happen with two or three people around a small table, where there is enough space for everyone to speak and enough silence for someone to be heard.

Those who know me know I’m passionate about people being seen and known.

Maybe changing the world doesn’t always begin with a platform or a programme.

Maybe it begins with a simple question.

“Would you like to grab a coffee?”

Because it was never really about the coffee.

It was always about making room for someone at the table.

People don’t change because they were talked at. They change because, often for the first time in a long time, someone truly listened.

I’d love your thoughts… ❤️

I’m currently writing a book exploring loneliness, connection, belonging, and what it means to be human.

As I write the next chapter, I’d love to hear from people from all walks of life. Single, married, young, old, leaders, parents, retirees, churchgoers and non-churchgoers alike.

I’m putting together a short questionnaire to better understand people’s experiences and perspectives. There are no right or wrong answers, and all responses will be completely anonymous.

This isn’t intended to make anyone feel sad or vulnerable. It’s simply an opportunity to have your say, share your perspective, and contribute to a conversation about a topic that touches all of us in different ways.

My hope is to include the voices of real people and real experiences throughout the book, helping create something that is honest, thoughtful, encouraging, and hopeful.

If you’d be willing to participate, simply send me a private message and I’ll email the questionnaire through.

Thank you in advance. Every perspective matters, and I’d genuinely love to hear yours.

Zena Jean

Force or Flow ?

I don’t know many people who don’t desire some sort of change. Be it financial, deeper relationship with God, the job, a relationship, health, family situations, home. Most people want change. Most look to improve - to move forward.

The problem is often how we pursue that change.

Many have strong perceived ideas of what would be the ideal change, many grip life with a tight fist. We try to control outcomes, manage every detail, predict every possibility, and ensure things unfold exactly as we think they should.

Control feels safe.

But control is often fear dressed up as wisdom.

When we become attached to a specific outcome, we can unknowingly place barriers in front of what God may be trying to do. We become so focused on our plan that we miss His invitation.

Proverbs 3:5-6 reminds us:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

So does this mean we should let of everything, does the trust and surrender mean we just watch and see? Doesn’t surrender mean ‘give up’ ?

We are called to walk the path, move and change. But surrender does not mean passivity.

Trusting God isn’t sitting on the couch waiting for life to happen.

We still take the next step.

We still have difficult conversations.

We still apply for the job, start the business, get healthy, set boundaries, or ask for help.

The challenge with force and flow is the inbetween - needing responsibility but also surrendering. The key difference is the posture of your heart.

Instead of our pride saying saying, “This outcome must happen my way,” we say, “This is the direction I believe God is leading, but I trust Him enough to redirect me if needed.”

That’s the middle ground. The middle ground is the open hand.

A willingness to move forward while remaining surrendered.

A humility that says, “Your will, not mine.”

And often it is in those unexpected detours that God does His deepest work. We learn patience when things take longer than we hoped. We learn kindness when people disappoint us. We learn that sometimes things don’t go our way and we have to let go. We learn humility when our plans don’t unfold as expected. And in that space we have a renewed peace.

The fruit isn’t formed through control.

It’s formed through surrender.

Not passive surrender.

Active surrender.

The kind that keeps walking forward while keeping an open hand.

Because nothing changes in a tight fist.

But in an open hand, God has room to transform us.

Where in your life are you gripping too tightly? And what might happen if you trusted God enough to loosen your hold?

Reach out - coaching conversations assist change.