As 2025 closes and 2026 approaches, God’s call remains simple: move forward. Deliverance often follows obedience, not certainty, and the next season may be waiting on your step.
Months after writing about preparation over prayer, life shifted in unexpected ways. The work was done without a promise, without a timeline—just obedience.
Many men were taught that leadership means staying in control, but control and leadership aren’t the same thing. Control is often rooted in fear, while leadership grows from security and trust.
In an age where everything meaningful is expected to be shared, worship is quietly under pressure to perform. Scripture never requires a camera in the sanctuary—it points us instead to private devotion and pure motive.
Technology has made temptation quieter, faster, and easier to hide, and many of us feel the spiritual weight of that without knowing how to name it. We carry digital struggles into worship, into prayer, and into the places where our hearts should feel most open.
Prayer was never meant to feel like a transaction. God isn’t inviting us to perform for Him—He’s inviting us to come closer.
Balancing faith and technology isn’t always easy, especially in the sanctuary. Phones can support worship or silently pull our attention away. This reflection encourages mindful use, respect for sacred moments, and awareness of how easily distraction slips in. Not every praise belongs online, and not every moment is meant for an audience. Sometimes the most meaningful shift happens when we silence the noise and give God our full focus.
Identity can get tangled in trouble, blessings, or moments that break us, but none of those seasons have the authority to define who we are. I’ve had times when hardship spoke loudly, success distracted me, or pain felt permanent. But God’s voice has always been the anchor. What He says overrules every rise and fall. When His truth becomes your foundation, no moment—good or bad—can rename you.
There are moments when your words simply can’t hold what your spirit feels—whether it’s deep pain or overwhelming joy. Unknown tongues have always existed for those sacred times when English falls short. It’s the Holy Spirit stepping into the gaps, carrying prayers and praises too big for vocabulary. God hears every unspoken syllable, every sound born from joy, pain, longing, or gratitude. Some of the strongest moments with God come through the language your spirit speaks, even when you can’t explain it.
Becoming someone you respect isn’t loud—it’s steady, honest work. It’s choosing healing, accountability, and authenticity over living for approval. I’m learning to honor myself in ways I never used to, letting God reshape how I see my worth and how I show up in my own life. Respect grows with every boundary, every honest moment, every choice to heal. If you’re becoming someone you respect, keep going. You’re building a life rooted in truth, strength, and quiet honor.