God’s Word is clear: “Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” – Exodus 20:12
Too many grown adults today are disrespecting the very people who gave them life, forgetting that dishonoring your parents isn’t just disrespect, it’s disobedience to God. When you reject His command, you step out of His will and remove yourself from His divine protection and blessings.
A long and prosperous life is connected to honoring those who raised you. If you’ve been neglecting or mistreating your parents, it’s time to repent and realign yourself with God’s Word. You can’t expect His favor while breaking one of His fundamental commandments.
Honor your parents. Honor God. Walk in His promise.
The Power of Living in the Present: Freeing Yourself from Depression and Anxiety
Life is a delicate balance between the past, present, and future. The past holds our memories, lessons, and regrets. The future is filled with hopes, dreams, and uncertainties. But the present? The present is the only moment we truly have control over, the only place where real life happens.
Yet, so many of us get trapped in the past or the future, and in doing so, we invite suffering into our lives.
Living in the Past: The Road to Depression
When you dwell on the past, you anchor yourself to moments that no longer exist. You replay mistakes, relive traumas, or long for “the good old days” that are gone. You might find yourself saying:
“I should have done this differently.”
“If only things had turned out another way.”
“I miss how things used to be.”
This constant reflection can lead to deep sadness and regret. It becomes a weight on your shoulders, dragging you down into depression. The truth is, you cannot change what has already happened. No amount of overthinking will rewrite history. And yet, the more you live in the past, the more you disconnect from the possibilities of the present moment.
Living in the Future: The Source of Anxiety
On the other hand, living in the future means constantly worrying about what might happen. You overanalyze every decision, fear the unknown, and anticipate worst-case scenarios. Thoughts like:
“What if I fail?”
“What if things don’t work out?”
“What if something bad happens?”
This mindset breeds anxiety. The future is uncertain, no matter how much we plan for it. The more we try to predict or control it, the more we stress ourselves out. We rob ourselves of peace by fixating on things that haven’t even happened yet.
Living in the Present: The Path to True Happiness
The only place where life actually happens is now. When you live in the present, you free yourself from the regrets of the past and the worries of the future. You become fully engaged in what’s happening in front of you, whether it’s enjoying a good meal, having a conversation, or feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin.
Living in the present doesn’t mean ignoring the past or neglecting the future. It means accepting what has happened, learning from it, and planning wisely without letting fear dictate your life. It means embracing this moment, because it’s the only moment that truly belongs to you.
How to Stay Present
Practice mindfulness – Focus on your breathing, your senses, and the world around you.
Let go of what you can’t control – Accept that the past is unchangeable and the future is unpredictable.
Express gratitude – Find joy in the small things, and appreciate what you have right now.
Engage fully in what you’re doing – Whether you’re eating, working, or spending time with loved ones, be fully there.
Happiness isn’t something you chase in the future or retrieve from the past, it’s something you create in the present. The past may shape you, and the future may guide you, but the present is where you truly live.
Choose to be here, now. That’s where happiness is waiting for you.
Listen, I’ve had my fair share of clumsy moments, tripping over air, knocking my own drink off the table, even managing to stub my toe on something soft. But nothing, I repeat nothing, could have prepared me for the icy betrayal that awaited me that fateful day.
It all started innocently enough. The air was crisp, the world covered in a deceitfully beautiful blanket of ice. The kind of morning where you think, “Wow, winter is magical.” Spoiler alert: It’s not. Winter is out for blood. And on this day, it got mine.
I approached the stairs with confidence, mistake #1. I even thought, “I’ll be fine, I’ve got good balance.” Mistake #2. The moment my foot touched that first step, physics decided to stop working in my favor and instead turned my existence into an Olympic-level slapstick routine.
One second, I was upright. The next? I was airborne. Not in a graceful, slow-motion movie kind of way, but in a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel kind of way. My feet went sky-high, my dignity plummeted, and my spine? Well, it experienced things.
The landing was… catastrophic. We’re talking one fractured disc, three herniated ones, and two that decided to take an unscheduled field trip to places they do not belong. My back sounded like a glowstick at a rave. If there had been a live audience, they would have gasped first and then immediately burst into laughter.
I just lay there for a second, contemplating my life choices. Do I move? Do I call for help? I managed to make noises that I’ve never made before as I tried to get the air back into my lungs. Do I just accept that this is my life now, living on this cursed patch of ice? Eventually, I managed to peel myself off the ground with the grace of a newborn deer, my spine now resembling a stack of Jenga blocks mid-collapse.
Of course, in true human fashion, the first thing I did was look around to see if anyone saw. Because let’s be honest, pride is more fragile than a spine. Fortunately, my neighbors did not see.
So now, here I am. Walking (sort of). Sitting (painfully). And forever haunted by the sheer audacity of those icy steps. If you ever see me in winter, moving like a suspiciously cautious penguin, just know, I’ve learned my lesson. Ice wins. Always.
P.S. If you were wondering, yes, I did go back and glare at the steps. No, they did not apologize.
It’s not always easy to be real in a world that constantly pushes people to fit a mold. But I refuse to be anything other than who I truly am. Difficult sometimes? Absolutely. A few screws loose? No doubt. But through it all, I remain unapologetically myself.
I carry no hate in my heart. I don’t have time for negativity, grudges, or tearing others down. I want to see people win. I want to see others reach their goals, find their purpose, and step into their greatness. If I can encourage, uplift, or inspire even one person, then I’m doing something right.
My biggest motivation is my family, I want to make them proud. I want them to look back and say, “He lived with purpose. He loved deeply. He never wavered in their faith.” More than anything, I want to leave a legacy that outlives me. A legacy of kindness, strength, and faith. A legacy that makes a real difference in people’s lives.
Above all, I want it known that God was always first in my life. Through every struggle, every success, every decision, I walked in faith. I trusted in His plan. I may not be perfect, but I’m perfectly committed to staying true to who He made me to be.
At the end of the day, I can rest easy knowing that I was never fake, never anything but me. And that? That’s something to be proud of.
I’m not a tough guy, nor do I try to pretend that I am. I don’t walk around acting like I’m invincible, like nothing ever bothers me, or like I have to prove myself to anyone. That’s not who I am, and frankly, that’s not who I ever want to be. I don’t hide behind a hard exterior, pretending emotions don’t exist. I don’t mask my pain with aggression or silence my feelings just to fit some outdated idea of what it means to be “strong.”
Because the truth is, it takes more courage to be vulnerable than it does to act tough all the time.
We live in a world where people think that being “hard” is the only way to earn respect, that showing emotions is a weakness, and that being open about struggles somehow makes you less of a man, less of a person, less of whatever image society tries to mold you into. But let’s be real, pretending to be untouchable doesn’t make you strong. It just makes you guarded. And being guarded might protect you from getting hurt, but it also keeps you from truly connecting with people, from growing, from healing, and from being your most authentic self.
I refuse to live like that. I choose to be real. I choose to embrace the fact that I feel deeply. I have struggles, insecurities, and moments of doubt, just like anyone else. I have days where I don’t have it all together, where life feels heavy, and where I question things. And you know what? That’s okay. That’s human. That’s strength.
It takes strength to admit when you’re hurting. It takes courage to ask for help. It takes confidence to express how you truly feel instead of bottling everything up. It takes resilience to face your emotions head-on instead of numbing them with distractions or trying to prove to the world that you don’t care.
I don’t need to act tough to know my worth. My strength isn’t defined by how much I can suppress; it’s defined by how much I can overcome. It’s defined by my ability to be open, to be honest, to love deeply, to admit when I’m struggling, and to keep pushing forward despite the challenges life throws at me.
So no, I’m not a tough guy. But I am strong in ways that matter. And if that makes me different, then so be it. I’d rather be real than live a lie.
Jesus Isn’t Concerned About Your Confidence, Only Your Obedience.So many times, we hesitate to follow God’s calling because we feel inadequate, afraid, or unsure of ourselves. We think, “If only I had more confidence, if only I weren’t so scared, then I’d obey.” But here’s the truth: Jesus isn’t concerned about whether you feel bold or fearful, He’s only concerned about whether you obey.
The Bible is full of people who obeyed God despite their fear, and one of the best examples of this is Ananias in Acts 9. His story is brief, but it teaches a powerful lesson about obedience in the face of fear.
Ananias: The Fearful Yet Faithful Servant
Ananias was a disciple in Damascus when Jesus appeared to him in a vision. The Lord told him to go to a man named Saul, lay hands on him, and restore his sight. Now, if you know anything about Saul, you know why Ananias was afraid. Saul was the chief persecutor of Christians, known for arresting and even approving the deaths of believers. To Ananias, this mission seemed dangerous, even suicidal.
Ananias had every reason to protest. In fact, he did:
“Lord,” Ananias answered, “I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to your holy people in Jerusalem. And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name.” (Acts 9:13-14)
Ananias was scared, and understandably so. But here’s what’s important: his fear didn’t stop him from obeying.
Despite his apprehension, when Jesus said, “Go! This man is my chosen instrument” (Acts 9:15), Ananias obeyed. He went, found Saul, and laid hands on him. And because of his obedience, Saul—later known as Paul—received his sight, was filled with the Holy Spirit, and became one of the greatest apostles in history.
Fear is Not an Excuse to Disobey:
Ananias’ story teaches us that fear is not an excuse to ignore God’s calling. Nowhere in Scripture does Jesus say, “Obey me, but only if you feel comfortable.” Instead, He says, “Follow me” (Matthew 4:19), “Go and make disciples” (Matthew 28:19), and “Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me” (Luke 9:23).
Jesus isn’t looking for people who feel fearless—He’s looking for people who will follow Him despite their fear.
Think about it: what if Ananias had let fear stop him? What if he had refused to go to Saul? The story would have been completely different. But because he obeyed, the entire course of Christianity was impacted through Paul’s ministry.
Obedience Over Emotion:
We often think we need to feel confident before stepping out in faith. We wait until we “feel ready.” But faith isn’t about how you feel, it’s about what you do. If God calls you to something, your job isn’t to wait until you feel brave, but to step forward in obedience, even if your hands are shaking.
Consider:Moses was afraid to speak, but he obeyed (Exodus 4:10-12).
Gideon was full of doubt, but he obeyed (Judges 6:15-16).
Mary didn’t understand how she could bear the Son of God, but she obeyed (Luke 1:38).
God doesn’t need you to be fearless. He needs you to be faithful.
Will You Obey?What is God calling you to do today?
Is He leading you to step into ministry, speak to someone about Jesus, make a difficult decision, or trust Him in an uncertain situation? Whatever it is, don’t wait until you feel brave. Move forward in obedience, knowing that the same God who called Ananias, Moses, Gideon, and Mary is calling you, too.
Jesus isn’t looking for confidence, He’s looking for surrender. Say yes to Him, even when you’re afraid. You never know how your obedience might change the world.
American funerals have always felt off to me. There’s something almost rehearsed about them, something that seems more about making people feel good than about truly reckoning with death and what it means. The biggest issue? The universal fast pass to heaven.
I’ve never been to a funeral where the deceased wasn’t declared to be in heaven. No matter who they were, what kind of life they lived, or even how they died, they always seem to get a glowing eulogy, complete with assurances that they’re now “in a better place.” But let’s be honest, does that really make sense?
If you believe in heaven and hell, then logically, some people are not making it to heaven. Yet, in American culture, we gloss over this entirely. We tell ourselves comforting lies instead of facing hard truths. If someone lived a cruel, selfish, or destructive life, why do we pretend otherwise when they die? And if their actions had real consequences in life, should we really be washing all of that away with a few feel-good words once they’re gone?
Of course, this isn’t to say that funerals should be about dragging the deceased through the mud. But at the very least, they should be honest. Instead of false comfort, we should take funerals as moments of real reflection, on who the person was, on the impact they had, and on what we can learn from their life.
American funerals feel more like performances than genuine acts of remembrance. We sanitize death, wrap it up in soft words, and avoid dealing with the real emotions and consequences of a life lived. But we don’t need more empty comfort, we need more honesty. Because if we can’t face death truthfully, how can we ever truly face life?
The Masters of Deception. Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing. Some people are nothing more than masters of deception, living double lives so convincingly that even those closest to them have no idea who they really are. They walk among us, wearing the perfect mask, charming, respected, and even admired. They play the role so well that no one questions them. But behind the carefully crafted façade, their true nature is something far more sinister.They disguise themselves as pastors, teachers, doctors, and community leaders, figures of trust and authority. They speak words of wisdom, offer guidance, and seem to embody righteousness, but it’s all an act. Behind closed doors, in the shadows where no one is looking, they indulge in the very sins they preach against. They manipulate, they deceive, and they prey on the very people who trust them the most.They thrive on control, feeding off the blind faith and admiration of those who never suspect a thing. Their kindness is calculated. Their words are rehearsed. Every move they make is designed to protect the lies they live by. They wear holiness like a costume, morality like a mask, and use their position as a shield to hide the darkness that lurks within.It’s chilling to realize that some of the most dangerous people in this world aren’t the ones who look the part. They don’t stand out in a crowd. They don’t wear their sins on their sleeves. Instead, they blend in perfectly, hiding in plain sight, fooling everyone, even their own families.These are the true fiends, the wolves in sheep’s clothing. They lead double lives without a second thought, lying with such ease that even they start to believe their own illusions. They are not who they pretend to be, and when the truth comes out, because it always does, it leaves devastation in its wake.Be careful who you trust. Not everyone is who they claim to be. And some? Some are far worse than you could ever imagine.
I’m tired of seeing all these “I stand with Ukraine” or “I stand with America” posts as if picking a side in worldly conflicts is the ultimate statement of virtue. Let’s be real, neither side in these earthly struggles is more important than the One who reigns above it all.
Governments rise and fall. Leaders come and go. Borders shift, wars rage, and people pledge their loyalty to flags and nations that will one day be nothing but a footnote in history. Yet, through all of it, there is only One who remains constant, One whose kingdom is eternal, One whose justice is perfect and whose love surpasses all understanding, God.
I don’t stand with Ukraine. I don’t stand with America. I stand with God.
Because at the end of the day, no political allegiance, no national pride, and no social movement will matter when we stand before Him. Nations can argue, economies can collapse, and wars can be fought, but none of it holds weight compared to eternity.
People are fighting for temporary victories while ignoring the eternal battle for their own souls. They are more concerned with supporting governments than seeking righteousness. They will defend corrupt systems with more passion than they defend their faith. They will speak louder about human conflicts than they do about salvation.
This world is not my home. My allegiance is not to a country, a political party, or a trending cause. My loyalty belongs to the Creator of the universe, the only true King, the One who has already declared the final victory.
So while others argue over which side is right and which leader should be supported, I choose to fix my eyes on the only thing that truly matters, God’s truth, His justice, and His kingdom. Because in the end, no nation will stand, no government will last, and no war will be remembered. But God will reign forever.
Church hurt is real. It’s not just a bad experience or a misunderstanding, it’s deep, painful, and often leaves scars that make people question their faith, their worth, and even God. When the place meant to be a refuge becomes a source of pain, it can feel like betrayal.
Maybe it was judgment instead of grace. Maybe it was manipulation instead of love. Maybe it was rejection when you needed acceptance most.
Whatever it was, your hurt is valid. And if you’ve walked away from church because of it, I get it.
But hear this: God is not the church that hurt you. People fail, leaders fall short, and institutions get it wrong, but God is still good. Healing is possible. Safe spaces exist. You are seen, you are loved, and your pain matters.
If you’re carrying church hurt, I’m praying you find healing, whether that’s through community, therapy, or simply time in God’s presence. You don’t have to go back to the place that broke you, but don’t let it keep you from the One who can heal you.
If you’re looking for the perfect church, you won’t find it. Why? Because churches are made up of people, and people are imperfect. We make mistakes, we fall short, and sometimes we even hurt each other.
But here’s the truth: A church doesn’t have to be perfect to be a place of growth, healing, and community. A healthy church isn’t one without flaws; it’s one that acknowledges them, seeks accountability, and pursues grace.
If you’ve been hurt by church before, I get it. And if you’re hesitant to try again, that’s understandable. But don’t give up on finding a community where you can grow in faith, even if it’s messy sometimes. The church isn’t about perfection, it’s about Jesus, and He is worth it.
I was proud to be a part of what I thought was the perfect church for imperfect people. A place where grace covered flaws, and love met you where you were.
Turns out, it was actually the perfect church for perfect people. And I don’t qualify for that vibe.
Because I’m the least of these, the broken, the messy, the one still figuring it out. But if I know anything about Jesus, He’s sitting at the table with people like me. And that’s the kind of church I want to be a part of.
Church hurt is real. And if you’ve felt it, I see you. But don’t confuse people’s failures with God’s heart. Jesus is still for the broken, the outcast, the ones who don’t have it all together. And there’s still a place for us at His table.
