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Some things in life are just plain hard. Not “slightly uncomfortable.” Not “mildly inconvenient.” Hard.

Only then will you be able to say, “Here I am. Send me.” Only then will you be trusted with people. Only then will your leadership stop being about you.

There’s a lie being fed to Christian men: That to be a son of God is to be soft. Safe. Tame. Mild-mannered and manageable. And it’s killing us.

So you press harder. Add more weight. Ignore the squealing sound in your soul that says something’s wrong.

We live in a world of half-hearted commitments and shallow faith. Guys who know the language, go to the groups, nod at the right time… but who never go all in. Somewhere along the way, we bought the lie that faith is just a vibe. That church is where we go to feel better. That Jesus is a consultant, not a King.

Men are burning out in churches across the country. They’re walking away. They’re going passive. Or they’re becoming religious, rule-keeping shells of themselves.

(Yes, I know it’s not grammatically correct. But stay with me.) Before the grammar police come knocking, let me just say: I know it’s “was” and “is,” not “wases” and “ises.” But when you’ve lived long enough, you realize —you don’t just have a past…

I hear it all the time from well-meaning Christians: "I’m just waiting for God to open the doors." "I’m praying about it… waiting on the Lord to show me." And while the words sound right, the posture is often all wrong.

After the talk, I stayed to answer questions. A mother, probably in her thirties, waited her turn. As she stepped up to speak, she asked me something that stopped me in my tracks:

I should probably start with an apology... perhaps it'll be worth reading... I just spent the 4th of July weekend doing a strange mix...

It’s living in a tension the world rarely understands: Being bold enough to move — and dependent enough to trust. This isn’t a nice idea for Sunday morning. It’s the life every son is called to walk out daily.

Don’t Tame the Lion Cub God gave boys energy, drive, and fierce strength for a reason. Telling a boy that masculinity is toxic is like telling a bird that wings are dangerous.

It’s a word that makes a lot of modern men squirm. Perhaps even pucker. Maybe because it sounds like perfection. Maybe because it sounds like a list of rules none of us can keep.

Today is your birthday. And while I could write about all the things I hope for you — and believe me, there’s a long list — I find myself reflecting on what you’ve taught me.

That means you carry something the world desperately needs: confidence that doesn’t collapse under pressure. But let’s be clear — real confidence doesn’t look like cocky Instagram flexes or spiritual swagger. Cockiness is noise. Arrogance is insecurity in disguise. Confidence is quiet. Strong. Settled. Rooted.

We’ve all seen him. The man who looks like he has it together. Sharp. Confident. Capable. Maybe you are him. Or at least, that’s the image you’ve carefully constructed. It’s not just a persona — it’s armor. It’s survival.

On the journey to sonship, the path forward is often interrupted by voices from the past. Not people — idols. The things that used to own you. The habits that gave you false comfort. The approval you used to chase. The image you crafted to hide the ache.

There’s a quiet pressure that haunts nearly every man who wants to lead, speak, or influence. We check the numbers. We track the likes....

I'm on a flight returning from a trip across some of the most breathtaking and historically rich places on earth — Rome, Florence, Corsica, Ibiza, and Barcelona. Cities crowned with cathedrals, castles, and colossal statues. I stood in places where emperors ruled, popes rose to power, and ancient warriors fought to claim a legacy of greatness.

We live in a culture obsessed with ease. With safety. With avoiding pain and rejecting sacrifice. But manhood — real manhood — is built on the exact opposite. Sacrifice. Conviction. Doing the hard thing when no one else will.