Who Is God?

Mortification is a massive part of leadership. Whether your leadership role is in your home, your workplace, or beyond, people are watching. And as Christians, we are often under a level of scrutiny that feels heavy and constant. How do we walk through fires in life? How do we deal with frustration, lose our tempers, face addictions, shortcomings, and failures? The scenarios are endless, moments where others are watching. And whether we want to admit it or not, they are looking to us to see who Jesus Christ is… or at least to watch us fail. So the question isn’t whether or not we are leading someone. The real question is: what are we leading them toward, and is it worthwhile? And even when we choose to pick up that mantle, that responsibility, we still mess up. Sometimes in very public ways. Sometimes in ways that leave us mortified at our own actions. Sometimes accidental. Sometimes intentional. Sometimes deeply hurtful, until we stop and realize the damage that’s been done. For me personally, I’m no stranger to embarrassment. In many cases, it’s not intentional failure; it’s things that slip through the cracks. Missed appointments. Texts that go unanswered for weeks because they slipped my mind. But then there are the bigger failures, the ones everyone else gets to see. Being a pastor is a lot like living in a fishbowl. And when there’s something wrong in the water, everyone notices, and everyone has something to say about it. I’ve grieved my sister’s loss in front of hundreds of people. I walked through a divorce while pastoring a church of several hundred people and was well-known in the community. I’ve been stopped in Walmart and told how evil I was, because, of course, it happened at Walmart. From that, and too many other situations to list- I’ve learned a few things. 1. Thick Skin Is Not Optional If you are going to put yourself out there and lead in any capacity, someone will have a problem with you. Most likely, multiple people will. And often, they will be people who don’t fully understand what’s actually going on—but know just enough to say something that stings. If I’m honest, that’s frustrating. Because sometimes these are people who contribute nothing to your life, yet their words still hurt. And that can make you even more upset. So you have to learn to prioritize who you listen to and who you work for. Pick five people. Five voices that truly matter. Make sure they are mature, close to you, and trustworthy. Don’t give this privilege to just anyone. Choose people who know you, who love you, and who are willing to speak truth into your life. Then remember who you are ultimately leading for: Christ first, Family second, Friends and those who don’t know Christ next. When you align who you listen to and who you’re doing this for, the hard days don’t necessarily get easier, but they do gain purpose. 2. Approval Is a Trap You Can’t Win Working for the approval of others while leading is a battle you will never win. It’s incredibly easy to fall into the trap of doing what you do because it feels good to be needed… and praised. I’ll be honest, there’s real joy and fulfillment in providing value to others. There’s something deeply satisfying about helping people, leading well, and seeing impact. But that can’t be your driving force. Because there will always come a moment when you do something people don’t like, and they will leave. Often loudly. Sometimes angrily. Take joy, even healthy pride, in leading and serving well. But don’t let feedback define you. Christ should define you. At the end of the day, when my life is over, I want to stand before Jesus and, God willing, hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” That hope drives me. It gives me purpose. It pushes me forward. And yes, there are people who believe that will never be said about me. Some with reasons. Some without knowing the full story. But that’s okay. They are not my audience. Jesus Christ is. And when that perspective shifts, everything changes. 3. Bravery Is Not Optional Whether your leadership role is parenting, pastoring, or leading in a boardroom, you will fail publicly at some point. Why? Because leadership requires risk. And risk is necessary. Pushing limits is good, and stepping out in faith is essential. But sometimes, it will go badly. It takes real bravery to take those risks, knowing you might fail, and to choose to do it anyway. One of the best ways to build that bravery is to remember your wins. Not to inflate your ego, but to remind yourself that failure isn’t the full story. Final Thought Time heals more than we think. What feels like a massive, overwhelming failure right now, one year from now, most people won’t even remember. So don’t give up. Don’t shrink back. Don’t let failure convince you to stop leading. Because mistakes will happen. But they don’t have to define you. They can refine you. And if you keep moving forward, God can still use every part of your story, even the parts you wish never happened.

How Do We Fix Anything? In a world full of war, politics, injustice, inequality, and beyond, how do we fix anything? Over the years, as a pastor, I’ve heard this question asked numerous times in various ways. It usually boils down to a deep sense that we can’t really affect anything. The world’s problems are overwhelming, and they always will be. With the advent of social media and global news at our fingertips, and every other media outlet constantly forcing headlines down our throats, it’s easy to feel helpless. How do we do anything about it? Eventually, many people land in a place of inevitability. The world is going to hell in a handbasket, and there’s nothing we can do about it. That mentality leads us to blame others, develop a defeatist outlook, become jaded and negative, and ultimately lose sight of what is actually important. One of the more recent conversations I had about this was with a very sharp, very driven young man in our church. He genuinely wanted to help. He wanted to make the world a better place. But he didn’t know where to start or how to make a difference. He had recently taken on a leadership role in his neighborhood and was already discouraged by the resistance he was facing. He worked hard, applied creativity to solving problems, and kept running into wall after wall. I’ve heard story after story like this. And over time, I’ve come to believe that generally speaking, people do want to help. They just don’t know how, and eventually they feel defeated. So the question becomes: Why worry about other people’s problems at all, right? While that mentality is understandable, it can lead us into some dangerous places as a society. It can also lead us somewhere very different than what Jesus talked about. Throughout both the Old and New Testaments, God’s Word repeatedly reminds us that true religion includes caring for the vulnerable, widows, orphans, and those in need. “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress…” — James 1:27 “Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed.” — Psalm 82:3 So how do we care without becoming overwhelmed? Over the years, I’ve developed a simple framework that has helped me tremendously. These are three questions I ask when deciding where to focus my energy. First: Is this important to my family and me? Second: Does this affect my immediate community? Third: Is there anything I can actually do about it? If the answer is no to two out of those three questions , I leave it alone. Often, I add it to my prayer list, which is powerful, but beyond that, I let it go. Many times, that means intentionally avoiding conversations, news cycles, arguments, and debates surrounding it. This allows me to focus on what is important , immediate, and doable , while giving to God the things I cannot control. Let me give you an example. Currently, the U.S. military has commenced major operations in Iran. Reactions to this have been wildly different depending on political alliances, media outlets, and personal perspectives. Is that important? Absolutely. Does it affect my immediate community, my church, my family, my business, or my town, in a way I can directly influence? Not really. Can I fix it? Not even close. And honestly, I’m not even sure I would want to. Decisions like that involve layers of information, intelligence, and strategy that most of us simply don’t have access to. So what can I do? I add our troops and our country to my prayer list, and I move on. That may sound harsh, but here’s the reality: You and I only have so much influence and so much capacity. That capacity looks different for everyone, but one thing we all share is that both our influence and our capacity are limited. If I spend all my energy worrying about things I can’t directly affect, then I’ll miss the thousands of people I can affect who are right in front of me. By serving in the church, engaging personally in the community, exerting social influence, praying, and building everyday relationships, I can focus my attention where it can actually make a difference. And when we do that, we become far more effective. Does this mean we don’t care about war or larger global issues? Not at all. Those things should affect us deeply. The loss of life is heartbreaking and tragic. And lives will be lost. That should absolutely weigh on our hearts. But we cannot allow ourselves to drown under the weight of the entire world’s problems. God, and only God, has the capacity to carry the sins of the world on His shoulders. We are not Him. In fact, at its core, believing we can or need to fix everything can become somewhat egotistical. Scripture reminds us clearly of the limits of our role: “Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10 God calls us to be faithful where we are, with what we have, among the people He has placed around us. When we focus there, on what is important, immediate, and doable, we can actually begin to change the world around us. And sometimes, that’s exactly how God changes the world.