Years ago, a prophecy was spoken over my life, one that I didn’t fully understand at the time.
“You think too small.”
I remember hearing those words and brushing them off. I didn’t see it. I thought I had dreams, I thought I had vision, I thought I was believing for big things. But looking back, I realize now that my mindset was limited. I was believing within the confines of what I thought was possible, what I thought I could handle, what made sense within my comfort zone.
But here’s the thing about prophecy: it doesn’t expire. It lingers. It waits. It follows you until the time is right.
And now, I can feel the winds shifting. Something is stirring deep within me. For the first time in my life, I am thinking big. But here’s the difference, this is not about me. This is not about my success, my comfort, or my ambitions.
This is about Jesus. Always Jesus.
I don’t want to dream bigger just so I can have more. I want to dream bigger so His name can be glorified. So His kingdom can expand. So His will can be done.
I refuse to live a life of small prayers when I serve a limitless God. I refuse to let fear, doubt, or insecurity keep me from walking in the fullness of what He has planned. I refuse to keep my hands closed when He is calling me to open them, to give more, to love deeper, to surrender fully.
So here I am, stepping out, believing for the impossible, walking boldly into the unknown. Because if I am going to think big, it will be for Him. If I am going to dream, it will be for His glory. If I am going to live, it will be for Jesus.
No more small thinking. No more safe prayers. No more limiting God to what I think is possible.
I Just Want to Love People and Do Well – It’s That Simple
I’m not a complicated man. I don’t have some grand master plan. I don’t wake up every morning trying to manipulate the world, chase power, or impress people with things that don’t really matter. I just want to love people and do well. That’s it. That’s all.
In a world that often feels chaotic, where people are constantly chasing more, more money, more status, more control, I find peace in keeping things simple. I want to be kind. I want to be honest. I want to treat people with respect, not because I have to, but because that’s what makes life worth living.
I want to love the people around me in the purest way possible. Not just my family, not just my closest friends, but people in general. I want to be the guy who holds the door open for a stranger, who genuinely listens when someone needs to talk, who gives without expecting something in return. I want to be the guy who makes people feel seen, who makes them feel like they matter, because they do.
I don’t need fancy titles. I don’t need to be the richest person in the room. I don’t need to prove myself to people who don’t care about me. What I need is to lay my head down at night knowing that I lived my day with integrity. That I did my best. That I gave love freely, even when the world made it hard. That I didn’t let bitterness win.
I want to do well, not just in a financial sense, though stability is nice, but in a way that means I left something good behind. I want to work hard and do right by people. I want to be the kind of person who makes others feel safe, valued, and respected. I want to be remembered for my heart, not just my accomplishments.
Some people overcomplicate life. They chase validation in all the wrong places, they play mind games, they lose themselves trying to be someone they’re not. That’s not me. I don’t need to impress anyone. I don’t need to be flashy. I don’t need to overthink it.
I just want to love people. I just want to do well. And that’s enough for me.
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?
