All Posts

We have come to the end of our study on making disciples. We’ve spent weeks thinking deeply, reading carefully, and reflecting honestly. We’ve worked through truth that has challenged us, encouraged us, and, I hope, stretched us. When a series ends, there can be a quiet temptation to think the work is mostly done. We finished the lessons. We covered the material. We made it to the end. But when it comes to the Great Commission, reaching the end of the study is not the end of

There’s a question some Christians ask as they think about the Great Commission and Jesus’ call to “go and make disciples of all nations”: Where do I need to go to serve Christ? It’s a valid question. It makes us think about purpose, sacrifice, and calling. It reminds us that the gospel is meant to move, and that the mission of God is bigger than our own lives, cities, and routines. But there is another question underneath it: What if the first place God wants to send us is t

Most of us can name someone who shaped our faith. Maybe it was a parent who prayed with us when we were young. A Bible class teacher who made Scripture come alive. A friend who asked deeper questions than anyone else. A mentor who walked with us through confusion, sin, or spiritual drift. Someone who didn’t just teach us truth, but helped us see what faithfulness looked like in real life. And when we think about those people, one thing becomes clear: the faith was never meant

Most growth in life is quiet. We tend to notice the big moments. The breakthrough. The achievement. The visible result. But most real growth does not happen in a single dramatic flash. It happens slowly, often invisibly, through repeated habits that seem ordinary at the time. A marriage grows through daily conversations, not just anniversary trips or special occasions. A child grows through ordinary meals, bedtime prayers, correction, and encouragement. Strength or weight los

We live in a time that prizes independence. We like flexibility. Privacy. Autonomy. We like the feeling of being self-sufficient, of handling things on our own, of not needing too much from anyone else. These attitudes are core to the culture of the United States. And if we're not careful, that mindset can quietly shape our faith too. We may still attend church. We may still believe the right things. But underneath it all, we can begin to treat our spiritual life like a priva

There is a tendency many of us have when we think about evangelism or disciple-making. We naturally focus on the beginning. We think about the moment someone says yes to Jesus. The moment of conversion. The moment of baptism. The moment everything seems to start. And those moments matter deeply. They are beautiful. They are worth celebrating. There is real joy in watching someone come to faith, and Scripture gives us every reason to rejoice when that happens. But those moment

Most of us did not come to faith because of a perfectly timed speech or a flawlessly delivered presentation. There may have been a moment when things finally clicked through things like a sermon, a conversation, a Bible study, a question that stayed with us, or a truth we could no longer ignore. But if we look a little closer, there was often something behind that moment. A relationship. Someone who showed us what faith looked like in real life. Someone who listened. Someone

Many of us have experienced this moment before. A conversation turns toward something deeper. Someone opens up about stress, purpose, or uncertainty. Faith comes up naturally, or maybe they ask a question we weren’t expecting. And then we sense an opportunity to talk about Jesus. We want to say something. We know the moment matters. But we’re not quite sure what to say. So we hesitate. We search for the right words. We worry about saying it wrong. And sometimes, the moment pa

Most of us have felt this moment before. A conversation turns toward something meaningful. Someone mentions stress, purpose, faith, or struggle. And we sense an opportunity to talk about Jesus. We feel the nudge. We think, Maybe I should say something. And then, almost immediately, hesitation sets in. What if this gets awkward? What if I don’t say it right? What if they don’t respond well? What if this changes the relationship? So we stay quiet. The moment passes. And later,

Most of us can quickly think of someone who helped us grow in our faith. Maybe it was a parent who prayed with us at night. A friend who asked honest questions when we were struggling. A Bible class teacher who made Scripture come alive. A mentor who walked with us through doubts or through hard times. Or someone who simply listened or reminded us of God’s truth at the right time. When we reflect on those moments, something becomes clear: spiritual growth rarely happens in is

There’s a certain kind of excitement that comes with starting something new. A new routine. A new role at work. A new commitment we feel energized about. At the beginning, everything feels full of possibility. We picture the outcome. We imagine who we might become. We feel motivated and ready. But sometimes, we don’t fully understand what it’s going to cost us. We don’t always see the early mornings, the sacrifices, the discomfort, the long-term consistency required. And when

There are moments in sports when a team gathers in a quiet huddle before the game begins. The stadium may be loud, the pressure high, and the season on the line. But in that huddle, the coach usually doesn’t overwhelm the players with complicated instructions. Instead, he reminds them of something simpler and deeper: why they’re there. He reminds them of the mission. The purpose of the game. The reason the team exists. This is at least how it happens in TV/movies. In many way

There’s something exciting about sharing good news. If we find a great restaurant, we tell our friends about it. If we watch an entertaining movie, we recommend it. If we discover a product that solves a problem we’ve been dealing with for years, we end up talking about it without even realizing it. Good experiences tend to naturally spill over into our daily conversations. We don’t usually share those things because we feel obligated. We share them because they mattered to u

There’s a phrase that gets tossed around a lot in the sports world: being a fan. Fans admire their teams. They wear their jerseys. They cheer from the stands. They celebrate the victories and feel the frustration of losses. But at the end of the day, fans go home and return to their normal lives. Players, on the other hand, live inside the game. They practice when no one is watching. They shape their schedules, their habits, and their priorities around the team. Their lives a

There are some passages of Scripture that feel so familiar that they almost fade into the background. Matthew 28:18–20 is one of those for many of us. We’ve heard it quoted in sermons. Printed on bulletin boards. Maybe we’ve even memorized it. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations…” - Matthew 28:19 (ESV) But here’s the question I’ve been thinking about for a while now: What if we’ve heard it… but not fully felt it? Or even fully understood it? What if the Great Comm

I’ve noticed something in my own heart lately. There are seasons where my walk with God can quietly shift from relationship to routine. I still pray. I still read Scripture. I still try to obey. On the outside, not much changes. But on the inside, something feels different. Instead of moving toward God with affection, I start managing my spiritual life like a checklist. Read enough. Pray enough. Avoid obvious sins. Stay within the lines. And while obedience absolutely matters

A couple of weeks ago, I was watching an episode of The Chosen , and there was a particular moment that caught my attention. It wasn’t a big miracle scene or a dramatic lesson from Jesus. It was quieter than that. The scene was from the Last Supper, not just a key Christian moment, but also a traditional Jewish Passover meal. At the table, Jesus and the Apostles were recounting a story Israel had remembered for generations: the Exodus from Egypt. And in the scene, the discipl

Most of us have a mental category for what it means to “serve God.” We think of things like teaching a Bible class, leading a ministry, going on a mission trip, volunteering at church, or helping someone in a visible way. And all of those are beautiful expressions of faithfulness. But I wonder if we sometimes unintentionally shrink the picture. Somewhere along the way, it becomes easy to believe that only certain kinds of gifts really count as spiritual. As if only certain ki

Many of us are pretty good at pushing through. We’ve learned how to carry weight quietly. How to keep showing up even when we’re tired. How to manage responsibilities, expectations, and pressure without letting too much show. Somewhere along the way, especially in this country, strength became synonymous with independence, and asking for help started to feel like failure. I see that instinct in myself more than I’d like to admit. There are seasons where nothing is obviously w

There’s something sobering about living through a winter storm instead of just watching one on radar. Many of us have been inside for days now. Roads iced over. Schools and offices closed. Routines suspended. For some, it’s been inconvenient and disorienting. For others, it’s been far more serious. Friends across Nashville and North Mississippi are still without power or heat, doing their best to stay warm and safe while waiting for restoration crews and clear roads. I’ve bee