Let's Get Ready to Rumble
God apparently looked at one strong-willed person and thought: "You know what this situation needs? Another one."
God apparently looked at one strong-willed person and thought: "You know what this situation needs? Another one."
One of the things this story taught me is how little authority our carefully constructed plans actually have. In a matter of months, jobs disappeared, schedules changed, cities mattered, babies arrived, and lives were rewritten. God was never constrained by the things I thought were immovable.
Complacency is the numbing agent blurring the life within our beautiful marriages.
Cult classic movies taught us love should feel effortless. Real life taught us someone still has to buy toilet paper. A dispatch from the household trenches.
Because every workplace eventually becomes a tiny kingdom: territories, alliances, resource guarding, tone analysis, meeting feuds, documentation rituals, and ancient blood wars over spreadsheet ownership.
But beneath the passive aggression and the muttered cabinet slamming, there exists something strangely holy: the ongoing decision to care for one another in exhausting, repetitive, unglamorous ways.
If work is where you run to avoid real life, you will turn balance into another performance metric. You will optimize rest. Schedule healing. Curate peace. Brand your stillness. I am an overachiever addicted to a job well done. I do not just like excellence. I hide in it.
Labels don’t fail because they’re wrong. They fail because they’re incomplete. And somewhere along the way, we started treating them like truth.
Because the Hustle Gospel teaches you to fight for your worth every day. Grace invites you to lay your weapons down.
This is about dethroning productivity as identity. Surrendering to interruption as a form of healing. Sometimes God doesn’t whisper “rest.” He dismantles your reason not to, and it feels violent.
The most radical thing a leader can do during performance review season is not to abolish the process, but to refuse the gods behind it.
Starting something new doesn’t automatically mean I feel brave. Sometimes it just means I'm willing. Maybe I'm still standing in the winepress— even while taking the next step. And then this scripture surfaced, steady and unmistakable: “I have called you by name; you are mine.” — Isaiah 43:1