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Preparation has to happen long before the spiritual wrestling begins. It is what ensures you arrive ready, not scrambling once pressure shows up.

How Sons Respond to Resistance Resistance doesn’t always look the same. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes it’s quiet drag.

A Re-Examination of Leadership in Confused Times** I first wrote about clarity and leadership years ago. I’m returning to it now — not to revise the idea, but to restate it plainly. Some convictions don’t fade with time. They sharpen. The original piece was written from a simple belief: leadership exists to bring clarity, not confusion. Everything else grows from that. A recent statement by Mel Gibson forced that conviction back into focus. After the passing of Pope Francis,

There will be moments when you feel the urge to fight

People came forward trembling — some to give, some to receive. Tears flowed freely. Praise and thanksgiving broke out from those participating and from those simply watching. It felt like the book of Acts had quietly stepped into the room.

A new year doesn’t ask for your resolutions. It asks for your honesty. You already know the patterns you’re carrying forward — the habits you excuse, the questions you keep at arm’s length, the inner resistance you dress up as independence. You’ve learned how to function without clarity. How to stay busy enough to avoid stillness. How to manage life without ever fully yielding it. And for a while, that works. But if you’re honest, something in you knows this: you’re standing

Day was crazy. Bought a new car. But my commitment was to post ... back at it tomorrow. I will post on how God has been gentle with me... -seven

We sat down today — my wife and I — on a simple day date. No big production. No rush. Just space. We laid our plans before the Lord. We talked honestly through the past year — what carried weight, what cost more than we expected, what surprised us. We embraced together what this next year should be shaped by. We named our high priorities out loud. We spoke the hopes of our hearts instead of assuming the other already knew them. Then we got practical. We synced calendars — her

When the noise returns, when the storm breaks, when the pressure mounts — you won’t scramble.

I’m from Louisiana. That is home. Always will be.

I don’t want to use a version of “holy rest” as an excuse to avoid the responsibilities I’ve been entrusted with. Sons are called to build. We’re meant to carry weight. Ambition, when ordered, isn’t a flaw — it’s fuel.

Christmas doesn’t ask you to strive harder or prove anything — it invites you to remember who you are. Sons don’t perform their way into belonging; they receive it. In the quiet between the moments, when the noise fades and expectations loosen, let this be enough: you are wanted, entrusted, and already held. That’s how sons honor the gift — they remember the gift, and they receive the gift. Remembering anchors a son in truth. It reminds him that what he carries was given, not

He and his wife are at the end of themselves. They have done everything right. They opened their home. They adopted two boys and loved them with their whole hearts. They showed them the love of Christ — not just in words, but in daily, costly faithfulness.

This season isn’t about running harder. It’s about ordering my life so I can remain present — with God, with my family, and with the work I’ve been given — in the years ahead.

If you ever sat with him, even for a few minutes, you’d see it: the pride, the gratitude, the joy of a man who knew he was blessed. He talked about his family the way some men talk about their accomplishments.

You’ve been told: Don’t trust your gut. Don’t be too decisive. Don’t act until it’s all figured out. Play it safe. Be reasonable. Slow down. Be softer. And over time the sharp edge of your instincts got dull. You stopped listening to that inner pull.

But then something rises in your spirit — a calling, a nudge, a conviction — that demands more than another cautious adjustment. It demands a swing. Not a bunt. Not a tap. Not a safe little poke into right field.

When I pulled into Asheville yesterday, it was warm and sunny. Twenty-four hours later the temperature dropped fifty degrees and the snow started to fall. A full season shift in a single day.

And there I was, somewhere in the middle, standing between “Bo Duke” and a former White House press secretary.

The story begins with God dividing the nations and ends with nations worshiping Him. National identity is not a threat to the gospel. It’s one of the canvases on which God paints His glory.