• Fear can’t take anything from you – it can only tell you stories and receive what it convinces you to hand over.

    And most of the time, we give it more than we realize.

    Fear shows up any time you’re close to something meaningful. That’s not a flaw, that’s often confirmation.

    But somewhere along the way, we started treating fear like a signal to stop, instead of a sign along the way.

    There’s a moment in Moses’ story where God tells him to lead his people out of slavery. Moses is 80, unsure of himself, and afraid of public speaking. He tells God all the reasons he can’t do it—his past, his weakness, his fear.

    God doesn’t reassure him with comfort or confidence. He just basically says, “Go, I’ll be with you.”

    That’s it. No motivational speech, just a promise that he’ll be present.

    The fear didn’t leave, but Moses stopped letting it convince him to give it control.

    And that’s the shift—fear doesn’t have to go away for you to move forward, you just have to stop giving it the authority to decide what you do.

    Here’s what I’ve noticed:

    Fear is real – it’s very real. But it’s not a flaw. It’s part of being human.

    Fear grows when we give it energy—when we obsess, avoid, or try to outsmart it.

    But you don’t have to argue with fear to move forward, you just have to see it for what it is and keep going.

    Fear feeds on control. The more you try to manage every outcome, the louder it gets.

    Peace doesn’t come from having a plan, it comes when you decide that it’s okay if you don’t have one.

    Our culture says to conquer fear by mastering it. But what if you don’t need to master it? What if you just need to stop handing it the wheel?

    Fear will ask for what matters to you. But you don’t have to hand it over.

    It only takes what you give it.

  • When my son – who just turned 11 – was a baby, he used to keep me distracted.

    I remember one time I was sitting in our tiny living room trying to finish something “important.”

    Laptop open, head full of ideas. I was chasing “purpose” (if I could make the quotation marks bigger I would), and it was full steam ahead.

    That’s when baby JT kicked me in the face.

    He was climbing on me, slapping the keyboard, and bouncing on the couch. I kept trying to focus so I could just finish one thing before the day got away.

    But I was already too late.

    He didn’t need me in an hour. He needed me right then.

    So I closed the laptop.

    We wrestled, laughed, and spent the morning together. I don’t remember what I was working on. But I remember that moment.

    It was one of the most productive days of my life – not because of what I got done, but because of what I didn’t miss.

    That’s the thing about perspective. You don’t lose it all at once. You drift.

    You start thinking your future is the most important thing in the room. That what you’re building for them matters more than being with them.

    Nothing could be further from the truth.

    There’s a story about a professor who stood in front of his class with a jar.

    He filled it with golf balls and asked if it was full. They said yes.

    Then he poured in pebbles, which filled the spaces between the balls. Again, full.

    Then sand, which filled in every crack.

    He told them: the golf balls are the big stuff—family, health, faith, people you love. The pebbles are things that matter—your job, your house. The sand is everything else.

    If you put the sand in first, there’s no room for the rest.

    That moment on the couch reminded me of what goes in the jar first.

  • What does it really mean to be a man?

    Examples are getting harder to come by.

    I can tell you it’s rarely done well, but here’s what I’ve noticed in the men who’ve done it right:

    A real man shows honor.

    He builds others up instead of tearing them down. In fact, he hates tearing people down.

    He speaks well of people, even when it doesn’t make sense.

    He isn’t threatened by someone else’s strength or their weakness. He embraces both.

    A real man serves.

    He forsakes self-preservation.

    He shows up when it’s inconvenient.

    He thinks of himself less, not less of himself.

    He protects and provides first and foremost.

    He doesn’t virtue signal and he’s okay if people don’t like him for it.

    A real man is courageous. Not because he’s strong, but because he still shows up when he isn’t.

    He confronts his past instead of avoiding it.

    He cries.

    He faces discomfort instead of looking for an escape.

    A real man is honest about his imperfections.

    He doesn’t hide weakness. He relishes in his own growth opportunities.

    He gives grace. Lots of it.

    He values wholeness over perfection. And he knows the difference intimately.

    Most importantly, he knows his place, he bows his head, and he bends his knee to his Creator.

    This is what manhood should look like.

    Let’s pray we never lose our examples.

  • Growth is good, but order is everything.

    You probably have more ideas than time. More ambition than capacity. And that’s not a bad thing.

    You should be striving for better in all areas of your life. Absolutely.

    But without order, everything all falls apart.

    Try this:

    Focus only on two priorities. That’s right, only two.

    Priority one is what we’ll call the dock.

    It’s the thing that keeps you steady—your job, your responsibilities, the work that pays the bills.

    It might feel boring or frustrating, but it’s what holds your life up right now.

    Priority two is the boat.

    It’s what you’re building for the future. Maybe it’s a side project, a new career path, a book, or a dream that won’t leave you alone.

    It matters, but it’s not time to sail yet.

    If I know you like I think I do, you chase three, four, or even five things at once until you spread themself too thin, get overwhelmed, and quit.

    Trust me. Just try two.

    Even two priorities can get tangled if they’re not in the right order.

    When the boat gets more attention than the dock, you start risking your foundation.

    And if you only spend time on the dock, you get stagnant.

    The dock supports the boat. The boat provides advancement and adventure.

    Here’s the thing you’ll learn:

    Most of your life should be spent on docks, building boats. And that’s okay. That’s part of the fun. After all, what’s a dock without a boat?

    So be faithful to the dock, but don’t give up on the boat.

    Know which one you’re standing on. Then get excited about building both.

  • She was barely two. Dusty knees and hair stuck to her cheek from the last parts of the sucker she had on the way over to dad’s work.

    She stood at the edge of the loading dock, arms stretched high, reaching for a place she couldn’t touch.

    Her dad watched from the side, carrying boxes up the staircase behind her. Back and forth. Load after load.

    Each time he passed, she pointed again.

    “Up,” she said. “Up.”

    He smiled, but kept walking.

    She grunted this time as she tried to pull herself up by the edge, but her legs slipped and she landed in the gravel.

    Frustrated tears came fast. She turned to him, betrayed.

    He set down the box, knelt beside her, and brushed the dirt from her hands.

    “There’s a way,” he said gently, pointing to the stairs. “But you’ve gotta walk around the platform.”

    She didn’t understand; she just looked up again.

    So he scooped her into his arms and carried her the long way around.

    Step by step they went up the stairs while he held her hand.

    At the top, she grinned wide like she’d done it herself.

    He just held her steady while she celebrated, then he took her hand.

    “Come on,” he said. “Walk with me.”

    And that’s what they did.

    Down the stairs and back up again. One step at a time. Over and over like it was a carnival ride.

    She came to love the steps more than she loved the platform.

    She didn’t know it then, but she was doing much more than helping dad unload boxes.

  • College used to be marketed as being “for everyone”.

    It still is today to some degree (see what I did there 😉).

    That “mistruth” is more false now than it’s ever been.

    College can be one of the best experiences a young person has, especially if they go in with a plan.

    I’m very glad that doctors, engineers, lawyers, and scientists go to college.

    But having a plan and using college as a springboard to a successful career is not the norm.

    One survey found that a third of American adults had no plan after graduation.

    Another study found that about half of all bachelor’s degree graduates end up in a job that doesn’t require a college degree.

    Meanwhile, college graduates, on average, leave school with $38,000 in student loan debt.

    Most kids sign up for college, agree to pay the massive bill, then try to figure it out while they’re there. And sadly, almost half of them don’t (40% don’t graduate).

    College has become this place to extend high school and delay adulthood. And it’s not hard to understand why.

    We ask 18-year-olds to pick a major, choose a career path, and invest thousands upon thousands of dollars in a decision they don’t fully understand yet.

    And even if they do it right, there’s still one major skillset they probably won’t learn in college:

    How to solve real-world problems without a rulebook or a manual to follow.

    College teaches you how to research, write, show up on time, and follow instructions. 

    All of that has value, of course. 

    But real success – especially today – demands more. You have to know how to step into unclear situations and figure out what to do next.

    That’s rare today, and it’s because of how we teach our kids.

    It’s almost impossible to teach that in a classroom.

    Most college programs don’t regularly ask students to solve problems without a clear process. Students are taught to give the right answer, not find one on their own.

    But the people who build careers and lead teams and make things better are the ones who create solutions when there wasn’t a roadmap, not the ones who follow all the steps correctly.

    That doesn’t mean college is a waste. It has immense value for certain career paths. It just means there are huge gaps between what’s efficient for grading and what’s effective in the real world.

    And the truth is, we desperately need more problem solvers than we need rule followers.

  • The American Dream as we know it is going away.

    It’s making way for new opportunity.

    For generations, the formula was simple: work hard, follow the rules, climb the ladder. Show up, do your job, and you’ll be fine.

    But now the ladder is gone.

    The jobs are being outsourced, automated, or eliminated altogether.

    And the dream we were promised is slipping through our fingers.

    Not because people stopped working hard, but because the reward for average is dwindling.

    And it’s not a glitch in capitalism. Capitalism is working exactly how it should.

    It rewards efficiency. It rewards speed. It rewards cheap.

    And robots are really good at all three.

    You can’t praise capitalism when it lifts someone up, then curse it when it replaces you. It’s just doing what it’s designed to do – to optimize.

    Which means you have to change what you bring to the table.

    Seth Godin calls this the end of the industrial economy. The death of “just showing up.”

    In his book Linchpin, he says the future belongs to people who bring something human – creativity, generosity, insight, care.

    Cogs, button-pushers, and box-checkers won’t excel in this model.

    Linchpins are not the cheapest or the fastest. They’re the ones you’d miss if they disappeared.

    • They’re the barista who remembers your name and your story.
    • The employee who solves problems before they escalate.
    • The designer who hears what you meant, not just what you said.
    • The teacher who turns information into transformation.

    Being a Linchpin means showing up with intention, solving real problems, and offering something no one else can replicate.

    We’re not being replaced because we’re lazy. We’re being replaced because we became predictable.

    And predictable is easy to automate.

    So now we face a choice:

    Mourn the loss of stability, or step into the risk of becoming irreplaceable.

    The American Dream isn’t dead. It’s just evolving.

    It’s no longer about climbing the ladder.

    It’s more about becoming a ladder that people would miss if it were gone.

    That, I believe, is an evolution that we desperately need.

  • Being right feels good. Chemically, it’s a drug.

    When you feel like you’re right, your brain is flooded with adrenaline and dopamine

    You’re on top of the world, in control, dominant, and powerful. 

    It’s easy to become dependent on that feeling for self worth. 

    Before you know it, you’re addicted to being right.

    This is why people poke and prod just to get a reaction out of someone. 

    This is why people jump into an argument on social media to bicker over something that’s essentially meaningless. 

    They’re addicted to being right. 

    Certainty can also become an addiction. 

    When we feel like what we’re doing is not 100% right or safe, there’s tension in the uncertainty, and we start missing the adrenaline and dopamine hits.

    That’s why starting something new is so appealing.

    The change in direction gives us that ever-elusive high of finding something that feels “right”.

    A study found that “a rush of dopamine accompanies fresh experiences of any kind.”

    Dopamine is a neurotransmitter that helps us feel pleasure, and anytime we find something new or feel like we’ve achieved something, that dopamine makes us feel important and victorious.

    So we ride from one high to the next rather than doing the hard work of digging in, pushing through conflict, and dealing with the friction of uncertainty. 

    Friction in the form of conflict or resistance causes your body to release cortisol, which is your stress hormone.

    Cortisol causes the thinking, reasoning, and compassionate side of your brain to go off-line. 

    When this happens, you go into “fight or flight“ mode. Your body goes into “lizard brain” mode, and its only goal is to survive. 

    That’s when the hunt for dopamine begins.

    And the cycle continues.

    To get your brain back online and out of the dopamine hunt, try this:

    Do something distracting to sober up emotionally.

    Walk, talk to a friend, play a game or watch a movie…do anything to throw your mind off the scent of the quick win it’s craving.

    It’s intoxicating to have a mountaintop moment, but you don’t need it. 

    You don’t need a cheap, quick win.

    You don’t need to ruminate or “vent”.

    Ruminating and dwelling on obsessive thoughts only feeds your brain‘s desire to be right.

    Step away, take a breath, and give yourself the space you need to make a reasonable and compassionate choice rather than fighting for another chemical hit.

    Box breathing techniques are particularly helpful to bring your mind to the present moment.

    You can also take notice of the objects around you or start counting your fingers and toes. 

    The goal is to engage the part of your brain that thinks rationally and compassionately so your survival-mode lizard brain can take a break.

    And in the margin required to emotionally sober up, you’ll be surprised how clearly you can see things.

  • The key to growth is better conflict, not less conflict.

    But we usually connect conflict with failure.

    What’s interesting, though, is that a growing body of research is finding that healthy conflict is good for development.

    Christine Carter, Ph.D., Senior Fellow at the Greater Good Science Center says:

    “Research shows that learning positive conflict resolution brings loads of benefits to kids, boosting their academic performance and increasing their self-confidence and self-esteem. It has also been linked to increased achievement, higher-level reasoning, and creative problem solving.”

    In their book Nurture Shock, authors Po Bronson & Ashley Merryman say:

    “In taking our marital arguments upstairs to avoid exposing the children to strife, we accidentally deprived them of chances to witness how two people who care about each other can work out their differences in a calm and reasoned way.”

    Here’s what professionals have found about how to argue well:

    Argue about resolvable issues, not nebulous complaints.

    Concrete issues can be resolved. Character flaws and emotional obscurities cannot.

    Researchers say, “Being able to successfully differentiate between issues that need to be resolved versus those that can be laid aside for now may be one of the keys to a long-lasting, happy relationship.”

    Also, good conflict requires being emotionally sober.

    Conflict puts our brain into fight or flight, and we’re incapable of thinking clearly.

    The chemicals released in an emotional state make us emotionally “drunk”.

    Bring yourself back to the present. Go for a walk, call a friend, read, or work out. 

    Do something to give your lizard brain a break so the chemicals can dissipate.

    And remember the goal:

    Unity is more important than being right.

    You don’t have to be right to experience progress.

    In fact, you rarely can have both.

    Most fights simply come from unmet expectations. So being willing to give up the need to be right is half the battle.

    Mental health expert Dr. John Delony says, “We think in pictures but we speak in words.” 

    Most relational problems stem from bullishly chasing different visions.

    So here’s simple part:

    Two people who are not emotionally drunk, who are willing to not be right, who argue about solvable problems…

    They grow through conflict rather than caving under the weight of it.

  • A few important questions to ask for a successful argument:

    • Will arguing my viewpoint benefit the other person? 
    • Am I too emotional?
    • Am I too dedicated to my viewpoint?
    • Am I excited when they say something wrong?
    • Am I looking for validation?
    • Am I speaking more than I’m listening?

    If the answer to any of these is yes, then your head isn’t ready to argue yet.

    Then ask…

    • Am I empathizing?
    • Do I know what they value?
    • Do I know why they’re arguing for what they’re arguing for?
    • Have I clearly communicated the reason behind my argument?
    • Am I prepared to compromise?
    • Am I giving them the benefit of the doubt?

    If the answer to any of these is no, then your heart isn’t ready to argue yet.

    The truth is always found somewhere between your beliefs and others’. Always. No matter how wrong they seem.

    If you prepare your heart and mind for that reality, then arguments become generous acts of back and forth for the sake of a deeper discovery of truth.

    We both win.

    And man…

    Imagine the world we would live in if we approached it that way.