In my younger years, when someone betrayed or hurt me, I would hold on to that hurt for dear life, determined not to forget what they did to me. As the years passed and I matured in my faith, I realized two things. First, there was no need to hold on to it, because doing so only kept me angry and anxious. Second, the person who hurt me often didn’t care that I was hurt. They just moved on.
Now, at this ripe old age, I can say that it is easier for me to forgive someone who has hurt or betrayed me. What I don’t do, however, is put myself in a position for them to do it again. I won’t pretend that I don’t think about the betrayal; I would be less than human if I did not. But I don’t wallow in it anymore.
Forgiveness and trust are not the same thing. Forgiveness is something I give, because God asks it of me. Trust has to be earned back, and sometimes it never is. Proverbs 4:23 says, “Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.” Forgiving someone does not mean walking back into the fire. It means I stop letting that fire burn inside me.
If you are dealing with something similar today, I will offer a little advice that has helped me move beyond it. First Peter 5:7 says, “Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you,” and Psalm 55:22 says, “Give your burdens to the Lord, and he will take care of you.” Focus on these scriptures for a moment. Can you see what they are saying? They are telling us that whatever we are facing, whether anxieties, betrayals, burdens, or hurts, we can give them to God.
You might say that’s easier said than done, and I would agree. But here’s the real truth: we do not have to rely on our own strength to do it. We need to remember to ask the Holy Spirit to help us where we know we fall short. Our human brains tell us to lash out, to find a way to get them back, to destroy them. But the spiritual side says, “Give your worries and cares to God, for He cares about you.”
So, regardless of what you are going through today, you have someone who faced the same thing: Jesus. He was betrayed by Judas, one of His own disciples, and denied by Peter, one of His closest friends. Yet from the cross He said, “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). Hebrews 4:15 reminds us, “This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testings we do, yet he did not sin.”
I am in no way saying we are Jesus, but if we follow Him, we can overcome the temptation to get back at the one who betrayed us. We can lean into doing what is right and away from anything that would weaken our witness for Him.
So forgive, but don’t return to the fire. God will take care of you.
Life will hand every one of us disappointments. A door closes. A proposal is turned down. A plan we poured ourselves into falls apart. Someone we trusted lets us down, or we let ourselves down. I have been in leadership for a long time, and I can tell you that none of this means something has gone wrong with your life. It is simply part of living. What matters is what we do next.
When failure comes, we have a choice. We can let it define us, sit in the disappointment, replay it again and again, and slowly decide that we are not capable of more. Or we can acknowledge the loss, feel it honestly, and then rise and start looking for a way forward. Resilience is not pretending it did not hurt. Ecclesiastes 3:4 says, “A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” Grief is not weakness. If you were disappointed, it is because you cared. If you cried, it is because you were invested. Give yourself permission to feel it.
But notice that the Scripture says there is a time to weep. The danger is not in grieving. The danger is in moving in and unpacking our bags. I believe in setting a season for sorrow. Take a day, a week, or whatever the loss honestly requires, and let yourself feel it fully. Talk to someone you trust. Pray about it. Write it out. Then decide that the grieving has a limit, because your purpose does not. The longer we linger in disappointment, the louder it gets, until it starts to speak over our calling. A failure is an event. It becomes destructive only when we turn it into an identity.
I know something about this from my own life. I spent almost thirty years in federal service, and I am grateful for every one of them. Those years gave me wonderful colleagues, meaningful work, and the chance to grow as a leader. That career also opened the world to me. It gave me the opportunity to live internationally and to engage with cultures I would never have encountered otherwise. Living among people whose customs, languages, and ways of seeing life were different from my own widened my perspective and deepened my appreciation for diversity, and I carry those lessons with me every day. I had real successes during those years, and I even completed my doctoral degree along the way. I would never want anyone to read my story and think those years were wasted, because they were the foundation for everything that came after.
Like every career, though, mine had its share of disappointments. There were seasons, especially in the later years, when I hoped for the next opportunity and found myself passed over. If you have ever given your best to an organization and watched the recognition go somewhere else, you know how heavy that can feel. I did not pretend it did not sting. I let myself feel it, and then I chose to keep doing my best work, keep learning, and keep trusting that my value was not determined by any one decision made about me.
When I retired in 2011, I did not leave in defeat. I left with gratitude and with a sense that a new chapter was calling. Stepping into higher education lit a fire in me. I was noticed, I was seen as an expert, I was not dismissed, and my voice was valued. That season taught me something I want to pass on to you: a disappointment in one chapter does not cancel the successes of that chapter, and it certainly does not write the next one. You can honor where you have been, hold both the victories and the letdowns with an honest heart, and still walk boldly into what is next.
That window on the world only grew wider once I began taking students to places like India, Sri Lanka, Ukraine, and Romania. I have had the privilege of walking alongside communities that face challenges most of us can hardly imagine, and I saw people rebuild, replant, and start over with a kind of faith and determination that humbled me. Today, in my work at Lutheran Social Services of Southern California, I meet families who have lost jobs, homes, and hope, and who are still choosing to take the next step. They remind me that resilience is not reserved for the strong or the fortunate. It is a decision available to all of us.
Once you have grieved, the practical work begins, and it starts with asking better questions. Instead of asking why this happened to you, ask what you can learn from it. Every setback carries information about what worked, what did not, and what you would do differently next time. Then ask what is still within your control, because we cannot change what happened, but we can always choose our next step. Ask who can help you, since resilient people do not go it alone. They seek wisdom, mentors, and community. And finally, ask what one small step you can take today, because momentum matters more than perfection, and one step forward breaks the paralysis.
The people who succeed over the long run are rarely the ones who never fell. They are the ones who kept getting up, adjusting, and trying again with more understanding than before. Proverbs 24:16 tells us, “For a just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again.” Notice that the verse expects the falling. It does not say if you fall. It celebrates the rising. And Galatians 6:9 encourages us with these words: “And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” So often, the harvest arrives right after the point where quitting felt most tempting.
So if you are in a season of disappointment right now, hear this: you are not finished. What you are facing is real, and it may be painful, but it is not the end of your story. Take the time to grieve, then lift your head, dust yourself off, and ask, “Where do we go from here?” There are solutions you have not found yet, people you have not met yet, and doors you have not walked through yet. Your resilience is not just for you. Someone is watching how you handle this, and your getting up will give them permission to get up too.
Keep going. Your breakthrough may be closer than you think.
There is a rhythm built into everything God made. Winter gives way to spring. Night surrenders to morning. The tide pulls back so it can rush forward again. Nothing in creation stays the same forever, and if we are honest with ourselves, neither do we.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us that “to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” We accept this truth easily when we are talking about weather or calendars. It is harder to accept when the season that is ending involves a person, a role, a relationship, or a version of ourselves we have grown comfortable holding on to.
Sometimes we hold on to a friendship that stopped being mutual years ago. Sometimes it is a job that no longer stretches us or a title we have outgrown. Sometimes it is a relationship that quietly stopped nourishing us and started draining us instead. We keep holding on anyway, not because it is still good for us, but because letting go feels like loss, and loss is uncomfortable.
But here is what I have come to understand: holding on past the season God intended is not loyalty. It is often fear dressed up as faithfulness.
People, like things, come and go. That is not a cold truth. It is actually a merciful one, because it means God is always making room for what is next.
Isaiah 43:19 says, “Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.” God cannot do a new thing in a life that refuses to release the old one. Our hands can only hold so much. If they are clenched around something we should have let go long ago, they are not open to receive what God has next.
This is not permission to abandon commitments or walk away from hard but necessary relationships. Discernment matters here. But there is a difference between a hard season worth pressing through and a closed season we are refusing to close. One requires endurance. The other requires obedience.
If you are holding on to something or someone who may be holding you back, I want to gently ask you today: what is it costing you to keep holding on? What could God be waiting to give you once your hands are finally empty enough to receive it?
Letting go is not losing. It is trusting that the God who authored the last season is trustworthy enough to author the next one.
Seasons come and go because they are supposed to. Let them.
There comes a moment (sometimes quietly, sometimes all at once), when you realize that life is not meant to be lived cautiously from the sidelines. It is meant to be lived fully, boldly, and with intention. Not halfway. Not when it feels safe. Not when everything is perfectly aligned. But now.
This month, that truth has been sitting with me in a deeper way.
We often move through life assuming there will always be more time. More time to pursue the dream. More time to mend the relationship. More time to say the words that sit on our hearts. But the reality is, tomorrow is not promised. And while that may sound sobering, it is also incredibly freeing. Because it reminds us that today matters.
Living life out loud is not about being loud in volume; it is about being clear in purpose. It is about showing up fully as who God created you to be; unapologetically, faithfully, and with courage. It is choosing to live with conviction, rather than hesitation. It is deciding that your life will reflect your values, your faith, and your calling, not your fears.
There is something powerful that happens when you stop shrinking yourself to fit into spaces that were never meant for you. When you stop waiting for permission to walk in your purpose. When you stop allowing uncertainty about the future to silence what God has already placed inside of you.
Jesus reminds us in John 10:10 (NIV), “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” That means the life you have been given was never intended to be small, hesitant, or muted. It was designed to be lived fully—rich in purpose, grounded in faith, and expressed with boldness.
Living fully also means embracing joy without guilt. Too often, we convince ourselves that joy must be earned after struggle, or that peace can only come once everything is resolved. But God offers both in the present—even in seasons of uncertainty, even when the path ahead is not fully clear.
It also means taking risks; not reckless risks, but faith-filled ones. The kind that stretch you. The kind that require you to trust God beyond what you can see. The kind that remind you that growth never happens in comfort.
And yes, it means loving people well. Saying what needs to be said. Extending grace. Offering forgiveness. Being present. Because at the end of the day, it is not the meetings, the titles, or the accolades that define our lives; it is how we showed up for others and how we allowed God to work through us.
There is urgency in this message, but not fear. It is a holy urgency. A reminder that your life has meaning today. That your voice matters today. That your purpose is active today.
So this month, I am choosing to live differently. I am choosing to lean into every opportunity, to speak life where it is needed, to pursue what God has placed before me, and to walk boldly in faith. Not waiting. Not hesitating. Not holding back.
I encourage you to do the same.
Do not wait for the “right time.” Do not silence your calling. Do not postpone your joy.
Live your life out loud. Live it with faith. Live it with purpose. Live it fully.
Because today is a gift—and it was always meant to be lived to the full.
There is something powerful about passion. It is not always loud or attention seeking, yet it is steady, persistent, and deeply rooted within us. Passion is the quiet force that keeps you moving forward, even when no one else sees the vision the way you do. It is the inner drive that nudges you to keep going, to keep building, and to keep believing long after the initial excitement fades and the work becomes real.
We often think of passion as something emotional, something tied to moments of excitement or inspiration. However, true passion goes much deeper than that. It is not just what excites you. It is what sustains you. It is the reason you continue to show up, even on the days when progress feels slow or unclear. It is what pushes you to take one more step, try one more time, and remain committed to what you set out to do.
When something is placed inside of you, whether it is an idea, a vision, or a goal, it is not there by accident. There is a reason it keeps coming back to you, a reason it stays on your mind, and a reason you cannot easily walk away from it. That persistence is often the clearest sign of passion. When passion is nurtured, it begins to create momentum. It transforms thoughts into action, ideas into plans, and over time, it turns goals into reality.
Passion alone, however, is not enough. It must be supported by consistency, discipline, and a willingness to keep moving forward even when the path is not perfectly clear. There will be moments of energy and focus, and there will be moments of fatigue or uncertainty. That is part of the process. The difference is that when you are driven by passion, you do not stop. You adjust, you refocus, and you continue. Not because everything is easy, but because something within you will not allow you to give up.
That is what makes passion so powerful. It is not dependent on circumstances, recognition, or immediate results. It is internal, and because it is internal, it is sustainable. It shows up in the way you care about your growth, your well being, and the life you are creating for yourself. It reveals itself in your commitment to your goals and in your willingness to become better each day.
As you move through your journey, passion often expresses itself as resilience. It is the ability to keep moving forward, step by step, even when the outcome has not yet fully revealed itself. It is the steady belief that what you are working toward matters, even if you cannot yet see the full picture.
This leads to an important question. What is it that you cannot let go of? What continues to come back to you, no matter how busy life becomes? What is that one thing that keeps pulling you forward? Those questions are worth sitting with, because the answers often point directly to the passion that is meant to guide you.
When you lean into that passion, when you commit to it, nurture it, and take consistent action, you begin to notice a shift. Momentum starts to build. Clarity begins to form. What once felt distant starts to feel attainable. The journey may not always be easy, but it becomes meaningful. When something is meaningful, you will find the strength to continue.
Keep moving forward. Keep building. Keep showing up for what has been placed inside of you. What you carry was not given to you lightly. It was given to you with intention. As Scripture reminds us, it is God who works within us, shaping both our desire and our actions so that we can fulfill His purpose (Philippians 2:13, NIV).
When you allow your passion to lead, you are not simply chasing goals. You are becoming the person capable of achieving them.
One of the unexpected benefits of fasting is not just physical discipline, but spiritual clarity.
Fasting sharpens your awareness. It reveals what normally goes unnoticed. Distractions become louder before they fall away, and emotions rise to the surface so they can be examined instead of ignored. In that way, fasting is not only about what you deny your body, but what you confront within your spirit.
One of the quiet struggles of this fast has not been hunger. It has been restraint. Not restraint from food, but restraint from explaining myself, defending myself, and shrinking just enough so someone else can feel more secure.
Fasting has a way of exposing how often we feel compelled to justify who we are, what we know, and why we move the way we do. It reveals how easily the need for approval can slip into places where confidence once lived. And it shows us just how much energy can be spent trying to be understood by people who are not actually seeking understanding.
If you have lived long enough, you learn that there will always be people who see you and people who search you. Some meet you with grace. Others arrive already looking for fault. No matter how carefully you speak, how thoughtfully you move, or how much good you bring, they will find something to question.
That realization can be unsettling, especially in a season of consecration and prayer.
The Apostle Paul asked a question that is rarely quoted, but deeply revealing: “Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God?” (Galatians 1:10).
That question lands differently during a fast.
Because fasting strips away the illusion that every opinion deserves equal weight. It reminds you that obedience to God will not always be comfortable to people, and clarity of purpose can sometimes make others uneasy. Not every reaction requires a response. Not every criticism requires correction.
Scripture also tells us, “A person’s wisdom yields patience; it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense” (Proverbs 19:11).
Overlooking is not weakness. It is discernment.
There will always be a thorn. Someone who presses, provokes, critiques, or unsettles you. The mistake is not their presence. The mistake is allowing them to redirect your focus, dilute your confidence, or pull you into defending what God has already affirmed.
Fasting teaches restraint. Restraint in speech. Restraint in reaction. Restraint in the need to be validated.
It teaches you how to stop chasing clarity with people who benefit from misunderstanding you. It reminds you not to make yourself smaller just so someone else can feel bigger. And it strengthens your resolve to keep walking in purpose without dragging every critic along with you.
You already know who you are. You already know what you have been called to do. You already know the fruit of your labor.
So do not chase people who are committed to misunderstanding you. Do not shrink to make someone else comfortable. And do not abandon your assignment just because someone else is uncomfortable with your obedience.
Brush it off. Keep walking. Let God deal with what you cannot fix.
In moments of profound grief and reflection, I find myself leaning into the unwavering faithfulness of God. Life’s seasons often challenge us, stretching us in ways we could not anticipate—times of refining, recalibration, and silent reliance on His grace. Recently, I have walked through such a season. Some days have been marked by uncertainty, where clarity was elusive, and burdens felt especially heavy. Yet, amidst the unknown, God’s presence has remained steadfast and certain.
Time and again, I have witnessed His hand at work in circumstances beyond my control and in places I could not reach. As scripture reminds us, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still” (Exodus 14:14). Even when I felt unseen, unheard, or uncertain, He has stood in the gap, offering His grace, protection, and peace. His love is unwavering.
At the same time, I have been strengthened and renewed through the blessings present in my personal life—celebrating meaningful milestones with family, exploring new places that awaken a sense of wonder, and being surrounded by faithful friends whose prayers and presence carry me through difficult times. These moments serve as sacred reminders that God’s goodness often sustains us in the midst of life’s trials.
I have come to understand that God’s benevolence is not dictated by circumstances. Psalm 34:19 declares, “Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.” When the path is steep, He provides the strength we need to continue climbing.
And while challenges certainly arise, I stand firm on His promise in Isaiah 54:17: “No weapon formed against you shall prosper.” This does not mean life is without battles, but it reinforces that we serve a God who equips us to overcome them.
I ask myself—and invite you—to consider: what season are you facing right now? Are there moments in your life where you need to be reminded that God’s presence remains active, His protection unceasing, and His work behind the scenes ongoing? Perhaps now is a moment to pause and offer gratitude—not solely for victories, but also for the lessons learned within the valleys.
Be encouraged by the everlasting truth in Lamentations 3:22–23: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” Cling to this truth, for God’s faithfulness endures, here and now, even in our most vulnerable moments.
May we all find comfort and strength in His unchanging love and unwavering grace
One of the blessings—and sometimes the challenges—of life is that if we live long enough, we’re bound to encounter offenses. Someone might say something untrue, or say something true that we simply don’t like or that rubs us the wrong way. It could be a careless word from someone or a dismissive attitude that sets us off. And when we feel misunderstood or treated insensitively, our reactions can become overwhelming.
Honestly, I believe that being offended itself isn’t the biggest problem. The real challenge is when we hold onto those offenses, refusing to let them go. That’s when we hurt ourselves the most. As believers, we have a divine guide for every area of our lives—including how we handle offenses.
Ephesians 4:31-32 (NIV) gives us clear instruction: “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”
Recently, I observed a situation that had been developing over time. An individual received feedback from colleagues regarding their communication style. The feedback highlighted concerns about tone and approach, including comments related to interactions with others.
This is not the first time I have discussed responses and attitudes with this individual. Previously, it was noted that responses to feedback could sometimes be defensive or withdrawn. The individual often maintains their own perspective, which can impact team dynamics.
In response to recent feedback, the individual chose to share their perspective openly. Their intentions appeared to be genuine, and they expressed a willingness to clarify their position. This situation underscores the importance of how perceptions and responses can influence working relationships and the overall team environment.
As believers, we are called to humility and self-examination. Whether we are right or wrong, we should be mindful of how our words and actions impact others. When someone points out an offense, let’s remember Ephesians 4:31-32—get rid of bitterness, rage, anger, slander, and malice. Instead, be kind, compassionate, and forgiving—just as Christ forgave us.
If we truly value unity and collaboration, our behaviors must reflect our words. Let’s choose humility, address offenses quickly, and demonstrate Christ’s love through our responses. When we do, we foster environments of healing, growth, and trust—becoming true reflections of His grace.
Life is not always easy. In fact, it rarely is. It’s a beautiful, complicated tapestry woven with threads of joy and pain, celebration and sorrow, triumph and setback. And yet, as I sit with all of it-the good and the hard-I’m reminded of a word that often gets overlooked: Long-suffering.
The Bible speaks of long-suffering not as weakness, but as strength. In Galatians 5:22, it is listed among the Fruits of the Spirit: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith…” (KJV). Other translations use patience, but I’ve come to love the word long-suffering-because it tells the truth. It acknowledges that sometimes we suffer, and sometimes we suffer long. But through the Spirit, we do so with grace.
I recently heard someone say, “If you truly appreciate life, you have to appreciate all of it.” That means not just the mountaintop moments, but also the valleys-the disappointments, the losses, the betrayals. And when I look back, I see it clearly: I’ve been so deeply blessed. I’ve lived a life that far exceeded anything I dreamed of as a child. But that same life has brought me sickness, death, heartbreak, and setbacks I never saw coming. Still, I wouldn’t trade it.
Long-suffering has taught me how to be still when everything inside me wants to fight or flee. It’s taught me how to love people who are hard to love, and how to trust God when I don’t understand His ways. It’s stretched my faith, deepened my compassion, and reminded me that even in the pain, God is present.
Romans 5:3-4 says it best: “We glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope.” Long-suffering doesn’t just help us survive-it makes room for hope to take root.
So if you’re in a hard season right now, take heart. The suffering isn’t the whole story. It’s a chapter-yes, even a long one-but not the end. And through it all, you are being shaped, strengthened, and prepared for even greater joy.
