I’ve spent a large part of my life around Christians. I’ve preached in churches, led ministries, built businesses with people of faith and sat with people through some very difficult seasons. So I know the language pretty well. “We’re trusting God.” “It’s in His hands.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “God has a plan.” There’s nothing wrong with those words. I’ve used most of them myself. What I’ve learned, though, is that saying something about God and actually trusting H

I’ve probably said the words “trust God” more times than I can count. I’ve preached them. I’ve prayed them. I’ve said them to people sitting across from me while their lives were falling apart. I’ve also said them to myself in seasons when I had no idea what was going to happen next. They’re good words. I just think they can become too easy to say. Trust sounds simple when nothing important is on the line. It becomes a different conversation when the business is under pressur

I've always had a fairly high capacity for work. Give me a problem and I'll usually want to solve it. Put something in front of me that needs building and I can get pretty absorbed in it. There have been plenty of seasons in my life where working harder genuinely helped. The danger is that you can start believing you can live that way forever. You can't. I've watched leaders produce incredible results while running at a pace that was slowly wearing them down. I've done versio

I've spent a lot of years building things. Businesses, churches, nonprofits, teams. One thing I've noticed is how easily the thing you're responsible for can start taking up more space in your life than you ever intended. It rarely happens all at once. You get busy, something needs your attention, and you deal with it. Then another problem comes along. Before long, being available for everything starts to feel normal. I've certainly had seasons like that. There was always a g

There is a side of leadership we spend a lot of time learning about because it's relatively easy to see. We learn how to communicate, manage people, build teams, set goals, make decisions and create a culture people want to be part of. There are books, courses and entire industries built around helping us become better at those things. Then there is another side of leadership that is much harder to put into a framework. Why did that person's criticism bother me so much? Why d

For a long time, I thought leadership began when someone gave you something to lead. A business. A team. A church. A nonprofit. Maybe just a handful of people who suddenly looked to you for answers you weren't entirely sure you had. I've had the privilege of leading all of those in one form or another, and looking back, I don't think that's where leadership began at all. By the time people start following you, much of the groundwork has already been laid. You bring yourself w

When we're young, success seems fairly straightforward. Build the business, earn more money, buy the house, reach the next promotion, achieve the goal. There's nothing wrong with any of those things. The question is what happens after you've done them. I've met people who were incredibly successful and quietly empty. I've also met people who had very little by the world's standards but whose lives had influenced hundreds of others. The difference wasn't achievement. It was si

It's interesting how much attention we give to what people build... Businesses. Homes. Ministries. Careers. Families. We admire what rises above the ground. Very few people stop to admire the foundation underneath it. Yet the foundation determines everything. No one celebrates the months spent preparing the ground. No one drives past a construction site and says, "Look at those incredible footings." They're invisible. But without them, nothing else lasts. I think life works m

Most people hear the word accountability and immediately think of being corrected, being watched or being judged. It's no wonder we often resist it. But I've started wondering if we've misunderstood accountability. The people who have shaped my life most weren't the ones who simply encouraged me. They were the people who loved me enough to ask difficult questions. Not because they wanted control but because they wanted me to become better. Left to ourselves, we all have blind

Shortcuts are appealing for a reason. They promise the same destination with less effort, less sacrifice, and less waiting. Who wouldn't want that? But I've noticed something over the years. Most shortcuts don't actually shorten the journey. They simply postpone the lesson. You can shortcut building trust but eventually you'll have to earn it. You can shortcut developing your skills and eventually you'll meet a challenge your confidence can't overcome. You can shortcut diffic