Take a moment to consider the people closest to you. Do they all nod along with every decision you make? While universal agreement might feel comforting, it could actually be a warning sign that you’re surrounding yourself with people who won’t challenge you when you need it most.

True friendship requires a careful balance. On one hand, we all need cheerleaders who believe in us, celebrate our wins, and offer encouragement during tough times. These supporters provide the emotional foundation we need to take risks and pursue our dreams.

But we also need truth-tellers. We need friends brave enough to ask hard questions, point out blind spots, and lovingly challenge us when we’re heading down the wrong path. These aren’t perpetual critics who question every move you make, but trusted voices willing to speak up when it matters most, especially when everyone else is staying silent.

This is where the Church community becomes invaluable. When you’re part of a group that includes people from different backgrounds, ages, and life experiences, you gain access to wisdom you can’t find in an echo chamber. These diverse perspectives can illuminate dangers you might miss and reveal opportunities you hadn’t considered.

A healthy inner circle includes both types of friends: people who lift you up and those who keep you grounded. The key is learning to distinguish between destructive criticism and constructive challenge, then having the wisdom to listen when someone who truly cares about you raises a concern.

The goal isn’t to create conflict in your relationships, but to cultivate a network of people who care enough to tell you both what you’re doing right and what you might be doing wrong. These relationships, built on mutual respect and genuine care, can be your greatest asset in making wise decisions and living with integrity.

Whenever anyone uses a verse of Scripture (including me) in their teaching, please take note of it and then read it yourself … in context. Understanding the setting of a sentence is crucial for accurately comprehending it.

Last week, I started listening to a nationally known preacher, and he was discussing pastors not being driven by action, but instead becoming people who live with a stillness before God. Prayer, Bible reading, and meditation should be the center of a pastor’s life, not ministry activities. Then he read a passage of Scripture, claiming it was “one of his favorites for ministry.”

The army of Egypt is coming toward them with 600 of their best chariots, with officers over all of them. The Red Sea traps the Israelites. Then “Moses answered the people, ‘Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. (14) The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.'” (Exodus 14:13-14)

This pastor quoted Exodus 14:14 and stated that the people were to be still and trust God. Then he went into his message, which is that God’s call to Church leaders remains the same today. Don’t focus on activity, but rather on stillness, as Moses and the Israelites did.

Because I had recently preached on this passage, I was familiar with the context, and he totally ignored the very next verse. “Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on.'” (Exodus 14:15). In the passage that follows God saying for them to be still, he shouts at them to get moving.

Being still before God is not about inaction; it is about an attitude of total trust in doing what God says. They were to follow His instructions precisely as He told them. They do not need to be filled with anxiety; they need only to act as God commanded them. It was not a call to inaction but to acting in obedience.

Later that same day, I saw a meme on one of my Christian Facebook groups that I had seen before, but it made me laugh and cry a little that day. It said, “I can do all things through a verse taken out of context.”

Occasionally, as a child, I would run into the room where all the adults were sitting to ask a question. Then I would begin to ramble on about some meaningless thoughts of a child, and my parents would stop me and say, “The adults are talking.”

That was my cue to leave the room because they were discussing things that didn’t concern me. More than once, I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation from the other room and realized I had no idea what they were talking about. They would converse about doctor’s visits and diagnoses, retirement, paying bills, and who was getting a d-i-v-o-r-c-e.

Some topics require a level of maturity to care about, discuss, or even understand.

Scripture consistently calls believers toward spiritual maturity. Paul writes about reaching “the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13). At the same time, the author of Hebrews distinguishes between spiritual “milk” for new believers and “solid food” for the mature (Hebrews 5:14). James reminds us that perseverance develops maturity, making us “complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:4).

This progression isn’t about intelligence or natural ability; instead, it’s about spiritual formation over time. Just as a child cannot fully grasp the weight of adult responsibilities, newer believers may not yet have the spiritual foundation to engage deeply with complex theological concepts or challenging life applications of faith.

I’ve been privileged to participate in conversations that have profoundly shaped my understanding of God and His ways. These discussions about suffering and sovereignty, grace and justice, or faith and doubt, require not just biblical knowledge but spiritual maturity cultivated through experience and reflection.

Sometimes, when someone joins these conversations without the necessary spiritual groundwork, I find myself wishing I could lovingly say what my parents once told me: “The adults are talking.”

This principle feels especially relevant when we engage with people on social media as well.  

While studying the Ten Commandments in preparation for a recent sermon, I discovered something that had previously escaped my notice. The ratio was striking: eight commandments tell us what not to do, while only two, observing the Sabbath and honoring our parents, give us positive actions to take.

This imbalance isn’t accidental. God understands our human nature intimately. He knows we’re naturally drawn toward choices that conflict with His purposes for our lives. The apostle Paul referred to this tendency as “the flesh.” There are those bodily impulses and desires that often pull us away from God’s best.

Living as a Christian involves both action and restraint. Yes, we’re called to bear good fruit, as Jesus taught when He said we can recognize a tree by its fruit. Our faith should manifest itself in visible acts of love toward God and others.

But there’s another side to this spiritual equation that deserves equal attention: the things we choose not to do because of our commitment to God. These aren’t just arbitrary restrictions, but they’re evidence of a transformed heart that has new priorities and values.

This dual nature of faith raises two essential questions every believer should regularly consider:
“What positive fruit is my life producing?” and “What behaviors is my faith preventing me from pursuing?”

Both questions matter. Together, they paint a complete picture of what it means to follow Jesus.

If you genuinely desire to do something for Jesus, you will find a way.

Through the years, I have known men who wanted to preach. They were unable to lead a church full-time, so they would spend nights and weekends at mission houses, nursing homes, and any other location that would allow them to speak. I have known people who wanted to play music for the Lord. They would form bands, volunteer at their Church, and look for any open opportunity to play and sing. There have been people who want to write for Jesus. They have created blogs, written for magazines, published e-books to share, and even self-published printed books.

If you genuinely want to do something for the sake of the Kingdom of God, there is nothing that can stop you. You will find a way.

If you don’t want to do anything, you will find an excuse. And that will be the end of it.

“Going the extra mile” has become an expression used to describe anyone willing to do more than what is expected of them. It is based on Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount, where he instructs his followers on how to treat evil and angry people. They will turn the other cheek, and hand over the coat off their back. Then, when they are forced to go one mile, they will gladly walk two (Matthew 5:41).

This appears to be a reference to a military practice of the day. Officers serving Rome were allowed to commandeer a person to help them carry their pack as they traveled. They could force anyone to help them for up to a mile. The Jewish people hated this law as it showed their subjugation to Rome. Jesus tells us followers to “go above and beyond” the legal requirements and go an extra mile.

For Jesus, we are to serve others in ways that go beyond the law and often the realms of acceptable practice. And his followers today must understand this more than a historical phrase. It means Christians are to be people who consistently go above and beyond expectations in their actions, today and every day.  

Sweeping the floors, picking up trash, emptying full trash cans, and removing them would be one example. Moving furniture and helping someone relocate items are other examples. Assisting a person in maintaining their house or yard can be helpful. Offering a ride and being willing to pay for the gas without complaint might be another way to serve.

I could list dozens of ideas here, but you get the picture. Jesus’ followers are people who “go the extra mile” even when no literal miles are involved.

We all love the idea of being the hero. We want to be the one who swoops in with a kind word, a helping hand, or a shoulder to cry on. As followers of Jesus, our hearts are drawn toward compassion. Scripture calls us to “bear one another’s burdens,” and so we often step into the lives of people who seem to be hurting or struggling.

That is good and right. But here’s something we often overlook: when you step in to “stand with” someone, you may, without realizing it, be “standing against” someone else. Your support can unintentionally cast another person as the villain in the story.

It happens in marriages when a friend takes sides. It often occurs in church conflicts when one person’s pain is attributed to the fault of another person. It happens in families when comfort for one child feels like criticism of the other.

Jesus calls us to be peacemakers, not just rescuers. Sometimes being a true friend means listening to the whole story before taking a side. It means offering comfort without feeding resentment. It means encouraging reconciliation rather than deepening the divide.

The hero of the Christian life is never us—it’s Jesus. Our role is not to be the savior, but to point people to the Savior. And when we do that, we avoid turning our compassion into an unintended weapon.

The easiest way to bring clarity to a complex subject is to use a comparison. Stories, metaphors, similes, and analogies serve as bridges between the unknown and the familiar, making complex ideas accessible to any audience.

Using phrases like “imagine this” or “think of it like” isn’t a sign of oversimplification. Instead, it demonstrates mastery and the ability to not only grasp complex concepts but to translate them into language others can understand. Expertise reveals itself in the capacity to make the complicated feel simple.

Every analogy has its limits. Push any comparison far enough, and it will eventually break down or reveal inconsistencies. The goal isn’t perfect correspondence but rather illumination of the essential principles. A well-chosen analogy captures the heart of an idea, even if the details don’t align perfectly.

Jesus’ teaching leaned heavily on this type of explanation. For him, the kingdom of heaven is like … a king, a pearl, a little yeast, a mustard seed, and a dragnet. These weren’t signs of shallow understanding, but evidence of profound comprehension expressed through accessible wisdom.

Doing THE best is likely not the same as doing MY best.

Don’t let that stop you.

The kingdom of God needs your contribution, even if it is not perfect.

Recently, I revisited my old blog posts. It was a journey that proved both humbling and enlightening. Reading my work from eleven years ago was almost painful. Those early posts were riddled with mistakes, clunky writing, and wandering focus that made me wince.

My posts from six years ago told a different story. While I wasn’t delighted with them either, they showed clear progress. The writing had improved dramatically, though grammatical errors still peppered the text. These pieces were longer and more content-heavy than what I publish now, which explains why I could only manage two or three posts per week.

Today, I’ve found my rhythm. I’m genuinely pleased with both my writing system and the quality I’m producing. My posts are concise and digestible, crafted for busy readers who want substance without the fluff. My process has evolved too: I write, then put each piece through three rounds of editing to check grammar, refine the tone, and search for more effective phrases. I maintain a buffer of at least a week, giving myself space to revise when inspiration strikes. The result is work I’m proud to share with the world.

Last week, sitting in my office, I felt the urge to delete those early years entirely. Then I considered updating and republishing the old posts. In the end, I chose to leave them untouched and keep moving forward.

Those old posts chronicle more than just my evolution as a writer. They also document my growth as a Christian, parent, and pastor. Each imperfect sentence represents a step in my journey forward.

Many of us harbor the desire to erase our past, to delete or rewrite our earlier selves. Yet that flawed, fumbling past is precisely what brought us to where we stand today. Those words and experiences, however imperfect, are the building blocks of who we’ve become. I thank God for where I have been, but also for the way he is changing me through the years.