Authentically leading and empowering others to flourishing life in Christ
All in Life
As the new year begins, I’m not drawn to bold resolutions or declarations about what I’m going to accomplish—because boldness doesn’t guarantee reality. Instead, I’m committing myself to a posture of process: identifying what matters, trusting God’s work over time, and staying open-handed to the formation He is doing. Growth doesn’t come from chasing outcomes, but from faithful presence within the process God is shaping.
As the year ends, reflection matters—but how we reflect matters just as much. While honesty and responsibility are necessary, harsh self-criticism often leads to paralysis, not growth. Scripture reminds us that God is still at work, faithfully bringing to completion what He began in us. As this year closes, be kind to yourself and allow God the space to continue shaping what comes next.
A night at a basketball game with my parents turned into a reminder I didn’t know I needed. Doing things with people often carries more meaning than providing things for them. Time spent, shared moments, and presence have a way of multiplying the value of whatever else we bring.
High school sports are meant to form character, not erode it. What we model from the stands matters more than we realize. This reflection names how yelling at officials is quietly damaging education-based athletics—and why the responsibility to change doesn’t start with rulebooks, but with us.
Christmas Day arrives quietly, after the noise and expectations begin to fade. At the center of the story is a simple truth: God chose nearness. God did not wait for ideal conditions. He came near anyway. Emmanuel is not something to be explained or achieved, but a presence to be received—right where we are.
Sometimes at Christmas, our best intentions are unattainable and our expectations feel just out of reach. Instead of peace, we find ourselves flooded by emotions that make it difficult to locate the Prince of Peace in the middle of the season. This reflection is for those carrying unmet hopes, quiet disappointment, or unanswered prayers. Christmas reminds us that God draws near even when things remain unresolved.
We’re only a few days away from Christmas, and Advent invites us to pause long enough to let the season sink in. Peace doesn’t come from everything being finished or decorated—it comes when we make room in our hearts for the nearness of Christ. Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is stop and let the season catch up to us.
By the time Friday arrives, most of us are carrying more than we realize. Leadership has a way of quietly adding weight we don’t notice until we slow down. Rest is not a sign of disengagement, but a practice of trust—remembering that God continues His work even when we step away. Rest reminds us that the Kingdom isn’t built on our constant effort, but on God’s faithfulness. Carrying less is sometimes the most faithful thing we can do.
Every day, something is competing for our attention, quietly shaping how we see the world and respond to pressure. As I prepare to teach, I’m reminded that message preparation often requires heart preparation—clarity of words usually follows clarity of attention. In a world that constantly demands reaction, faithfulness begins by choosing what deserves to shape us.
Advent joy is not the same as happiness. Happiness shifts with circumstances, but joy is something we choose to practice. That choice requires honesty. If we want to choose joy consistently, we also have to own the things that get in the way—unresolved grief, comparison, control, disappointment, and busyness that crowds out reflection. Advent doesn’t ask us to manufacture cheer; it invites us to anchor our joy in the nearness of Christ, even when life feels complicated.
Peace is easy to talk about and hard to hold onto — especially in December. I don’t usually lose peace in dramatic ways; I lose it subtly, one small distraction or pressure at a time. Advent reminds me that peace hasn’t left me… I’ve drifted from it. This week, I’m reflecting on the four ways we unintentionally lose sight of peace — and how the arrival of Jesus invites us to return to it. If peace feels far away, this Advent might be God’s invitation to hope again.
Advent doesn’t just invite us to remember Christ’s coming—Advent interrupts us with hope. Mary and Joseph’s entire world shifted before the world even knew a Savior had arrived. And that same hope still interrupts our lives today. The question isn’t whether God is moving. The question is: Are you open to the interruption of hope He may bring this year?
Isaiah’s calling didn’t begin with clarity of purpose — it began with a growing clarity of a Person. Before God sent Isaiah anywhere, He revealed Himself. This post explores the three movements of Isaiah 6 that still shape our calling today: recognizing God, receiving His grace, and realizing the place you already stand is the place God has sent you.
We love to believe God’s going to send someone else — the “better qualified,” the “more spiritual,” the “more confident.”
But what if that someone else is actually you?
When it comes to the One God’s placed in your life, you’re not the backup plan. You’re Plan A.
God’s plan has always been people — and He’s chosen to work through you, right where you are.
It’s easy to coast when your eyes are fixed on what’s safe. But when you start looking for what Jesus looks for — when you decide to see people the way He sees them — it changes everything. Focus isn’t accidental; it’s intentional. And it’s the work that makes transformation possible.
I’ve spent the last year and a half fully engaged in pastoring here at home, but this season feels like a call to give again—to add something to the world through words. I’m convinced this is a season to contribute, not just consume—to offer a voice that helps others slow down, refocus, and run after the one God has placed in front of them.
People will let you down. People you respect. People you look up to. People you lean on. People who have been there for you at one point. People that have encouraged you. People who have invested in you. People will let you down. But that doesn’t mean that they are inherently evil. It means that people are inherently human.
60 years ago, Danny Cocanower and Bonnie Constable said “I do” and committed their lives together until death do they part. Like most couples who say “I do,” they had no clue what the next 60 years would look like, let alone the next 60 days. Happiest of Anniversaries on this very special one. You are a shining example of consistent and constant devotion to being there.
April 14th always brings with It a wave of texts, posts, and messages that always overwhelm me with gratitude for the many people that I have been so blessed to have in my life. To all those that sent those messages - thank you. You are a blessing to me and I’m so grateful for you.
365 days ago, I was sitting at my parents house after a day of visiting with friends and community members who had known my grandpa. I was thinking, praying, and processing what I would say to eulogize him; all that he had influenced in my life, the memories that our family had shared with him, and the life that he had lived in his 80 years.
