I never thought I would be writing a Christian blog.
I really didn’t.
I never pictured myself doing anything that resembled a personal ministry, writing about God, talking openly about my failures, my marriage, my money mistakes, fatherhood, discipline, or the seasons when my spiritual life wasn’t where I knew it should be.
For a long time, vulnerability was difficult for me.
I cared too much about how I would be perceived.
What would people think?
Would somebody judge me?
Would somebody take something I said the wrong way?
Looking back, I can see that a lot of that was insecurity.
And yet here I am.
Writing this.
Maybe that is part of what God is changing in me too.
I don’t want to write from a place of pretending I have arrived.
I want to write while I’m still walking.
And right now, one of the biggest things happening in my life is that I feel God pulling me back to the basics.
Prayer.
His Word.
Fasting.
Stewardship.
Discipline.
Listening.
Being present.
Trusting Him instead of trying to control everything myself.
Because if I’m being truthful, somewhere along the way I drifted.
Not necessarily in a dramatic way.
I still believed in God.
I still talked about God.
I still prayed.
I still thanked Him.
But there is a difference between believing in God and really making room for God.
And I started noticing that difference in my own life.
I Didn’t Walk Away From God. I Just Slowly Gave Him Less of Me.
I think this is how spiritual distance happens for a lot of us.
It isn’t always some dramatic rebellion.
Sometimes it is just life.
Work.
Children.
Bills.
Phones.
Goals.
Marriage.
Exercise.
Content.
Entertainment.
Trying to solve problems.
Trying to plan the future.
Trying to keep everything moving.
And then one day you realize something.
You have time to listen to another podcast.
You have time to watch another video.
You have time to research something you suddenly decided you absolutely need to know.
You have time to scroll.
You have time for another audiobook.
But picking up the Bible somehow feels difficult.
That realization hit me.
I believe 100% in the Bible.
I believe it is God’s Word.
So why was it sometimes easier for me to read another personal-development book than to read one chapter of Scripture?
Why could I listen to people talk about discipline, success, money and mindset for hours, but spending quiet time with God could somehow get pushed until later?
And “later” has a funny way of becoming tomorrow.
Then tomorrow becomes next week.
Then you look up and realize you haven’t seriously opened your Bible in a long time.
I don’t say that proudly.
I’m saying it because somebody else reading this may be there too.
You still love God.
You haven’t stopped believing.
But you’re dry.
And you know it.
I Can Tell When I’m Spiritually Dry Because It Starts Showing Up Everywhere Else
This is one of the biggest things I’ve learned about myself.
My spiritual life does not stay neatly contained in one section of my life.
When something is off there, eventually I feel it everywhere.
My patience changes.
My thoughts get noisier.
I become more controlling.
Little problems feel bigger.
Marriage tension hits differently.
Financial stress becomes heavier.
Fear becomes louder.
Things start sitting in my head instead of being placed before God.
For me, spiritual dryness has a ripple effect.
I can sometimes spend so much energy trying to fix the symptoms that I forget to look at the root.
Maybe I need a better budget.
Maybe I need to be more productive.
Maybe I need a better routine.
Maybe I need to solve this marriage issue.
Maybe I need to make more money.
Maybe I need to organize this.
Maybe I need to control that.
And sometimes those practical things absolutely need attention.
But lately I’ve been asking myself a more uncomfortable question:
When was the last time I simply sat with God?
Not asking Him for ten things.
Not trying to solve anything.
Not multitasking.
Just sitting down with my Father.
That question has been following me.
Financial Regret Became Part of My Wake-Up Call
One area that forced me into a lot of self-reflection was money.
My wife and I were not living some crazy luxury lifestyle.
We weren’t buying Ferraris.
We weren’t flying private.
There wasn’t one ridiculous purchase I could point to and say, “There. That’s where everything went.”
And maybe that’s what bothered me even more.
It was the little stuff.
Convenience.
Eating out.
Not tracking.
Buying things without really thinking about the accumulation.
Letting money flow without giving every dollar enough direction.
And eventually I had to look at it honestly.
Our finances were under my watch too.
And I had not handled everything with the level of discipline I should have.
That hurt.
I thought about the things that money could have represented.
A larger down payment for a future home.
More savings.
Something invested for my son.
Money available to help somebody in real need.
More peace for my household.
And I found myself asking God:
How do I come to You asking for help when I was reckless with what You already gave me?
That was a hard question.
But I also started seeing the situation differently.
Repentance cannot simply mean feeling terrible forever.
At some point repentance has to produce a change in direction.
So instead of staying in:
“Look what I did.”
I’m learning to move toward:
“What are You teaching me now, Lord?”
There is a big difference.
One keeps me trapped looking backward.
The other allows regret to become wisdom.
I Started Seeing Money as Stewardship Instead of Just Money
Something shifted in me.
Money started looking less like something I owned and more like something I was responsible for.
That changed the way I thought about spending.
If God provides something, how am I managing it?
If He gives me time, how am I managing it?
If He gives me a healthy body, how am I managing it?
If He gives me a wife and a child, how am I treating those relationships?
If He gives me influence, what am I doing with it?
Everything started connecting.
Stewardship wasn’t only about finances anymore.
It was my whole life.
And strangely enough, looking at the mistakes also made me more grateful.
Because despite my financial undiscipline in some areas, my wife and I had consistently invested over the years.
We had put money into retirement and other investments.
There were times we did it aggressively.
Looking at those decisions now, I remember thinking:
Thank God we did that.
At certain points that discipline became a tremendous safety net.
And I couldn’t help wondering whether God had been preparing provision before I even understood why I would need it.
He knew me.
He knew my weaknesses.
He knew what was coming.
He knew what I didn’t know.
That thought humbled me.
Fatherhood Completely Changed How I Think About God’s Timing
I have a young son.
And if you’re a parent, you probably understand this.
I think ahead for him constantly.
I think about school.
His health.
His safety.
His future.
What he eats.
Where he goes.
What he watches.
What he learns.
How much time I’m spending with him.
Things he won’t understand for years.
There are things he could ask me for today that I would not give him.
Not because I don’t love him.
Because I do love him.
Timing matters.
Readiness matters.
Safety matters.
Maturity matters.
At his age, he simply cannot understand every reason behind every decision I make.
And one day that thought hit me differently.
Jesus said:
“If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!”
— Matthew 7:11
If I, with all my limitations, think years ahead for my son…
how much farther ahead can my Father see for me?
That has changed the way I think about unanswered prayers.
There are things I prayed for years ago that I desperately wanted to happen immediately.
Looking backward now, I’m thankful some of them didn’t.
I wasn’t ready.
The circumstances weren’t ready.
Maybe other people involved weren’t ready.
Maybe God saw ten turns down the road while I could only see the next traffic light.
I’ve started thinking of Him as my ultimate GPS.
I may know the destination I want.
But He sees the road.
The traffic.
The accident ahead.
The detour.
The bridge that’s closed.
The route I don’t even know exists.
And sometimes God’s “not yet” may be protection.
I Missed Fasting
Another thing that started coming back into my spirit was fasting.
Years ago, fasting was much more present in my spiritual life.
I listened to teachings from people like Myles Munroe, Jentezen Franklin and Derek Prince, and fasting became something I genuinely valued.
I remember the clarity.
The peace.
The feeling of intentionally removing something so I could give more attention to God.
Then life changed.
I went through a health scare, and fasting became something I approached differently.
But recently I found myself thinking about it again.
I realized how comfortable I had become.
Eat something.
Get tired.
Find something entertaining.
Eat again.
Make the flesh happy.
Repeat.
And I thought:
I miss the discipline of telling myself no.
Not because food is evil.
Not because suffering makes God love us more.
But because sometimes I need to remember that every appetite I have does not get to control me.
For anyone dealing with medical conditions, medication, pregnancy, eating disorders or other health concerns, fasting from food is something to approach wisely and with appropriate medical guidance. There are also other things we can fast from.
But spiritually, for me, fasting represented something bigger:
God, You have my attention.
And I want that again.
Maybe Getting Closer to God Means Going Back to Very Simple Things
At this point in my life, I’m less interested in complicated formulas.
I don’t need a 47-step spiritual morning routine.
I need the basics.
Open the Bible.
Read.
Pray.
Listen.
Be quiet.
Repent.
Forgive.
Obey.
Be grateful.
Watch what I allow into my mind.
Spend time with God even when I don’t have some huge emotional experience.
I think sometimes we become too familiar with Christianity.
We’ve heard the verses.
We’ve heard the sermons.
We’ve heard people say “pray” so many times that the word almost becomes background noise.
And pride can quietly creep in.
“I know that already.”
But knowing something and living it are two different things.
I can know that prayer matters and still not pray enough.
I can know the Bible is God’s Word and still not open it.
I can know forgiveness matters and still replay what somebody did to me.
I can know God is in control and still try to control everybody around me.
So right now I’m learning not to despise the basics.
The basics may be exactly where God is waiting for me.
One Chaotic Morning Taught Me Something About Peace
One morning my son and I went outside before school.
There is a little area close to our home where he likes to bring his cars and play.
We were getting sunlight.
He was having fun.
I was enjoying spending time with him.
Everything was peaceful.
Then suddenly we realized what time it was.
He needed to be in class.
Breakfast still needed to happen.
Everybody had to get ready.
And the quiet morning turned into noise.
My son was getting agitated.
My wife was stressed because he needed to get to school on time.
Normally, at some point, I might have added my own frustration to the situation.
Then we would have three upset people instead of two.
But that morning something came to my mind:
Maybe they need to borrow my calm.
So I stopped trying to control the room.
I stayed quiet.
Not passive-aggressive quiet.
Not the kind of silence where you’re actually screaming internally and making sure everybody knows it.
Just calm.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
And something happened.
Eventually the whole thing dissipated.
They calmed down.
The emotional temperature of the house changed.
And I remember thinking:
That’s interesting.
Maybe spiritual growth isn’t always some dramatic mountaintop experience.
Maybe sometimes it’s staying calm in the kitchen at 8:30 in the morning.
Maybe sometimes victory is not saying the thing you normally would have said.
Maybe sometimes God is working on you in a moment nobody else will ever know about.
David Had Private Victories Before Anyone Saw Goliath Fall
I’ve been thinking a lot about David lately.
Everyone remembers Goliath.
That’s the public part.
The dramatic part.
The part that gets painted.
But David had a history with God before Goliath ever stepped onto that battlefield.
When David spoke to Saul, he explained that while taking care of his father’s sheep, he had already faced a lion and a bear.
See 1 Samuel 17:34–37.
Those victories happened in private.
No giant audience.
No army cheering.
No public recognition.
Just David being faithful with sheep.
And then eventually the private preparation met a public opportunity.
That makes me think about my own life.
What am I doing when nobody is watching?
Am I praying when nobody will know?
Am I controlling my spending when nobody sees the purchase I didn’t make?
Am I treating my wife with respect when there is no audience?
Am I putting the phone down and playing cars with my son?
Am I doing the workout?
Am I reading the Bible?
Am I forgiving the person I’d rather get even with?
Those things don’t look dramatic.
But I’m starting to believe private victories build public strength.
I Don’t Want to Build Something Great and Miss My Son Growing Up
This one has been weighing heavily on me.
I love writing.
I love creating content.
When I’m working on something I’m passionate about, time disappears.
But I have a young son.
Sometimes I’m writing and he wants to play.
Cars.
Magnets.
Some game he just invented that makes absolutely no sense to me but makes perfect sense to him.
And there is always another thing I could finish.
Another article.
Another edit.
Another YouTube video.
Another Pinterest post.
Another idea.
Another email.
Another “important” thing.
Then I started asking myself:
God willing, ten years from now, what am I going to wish I did?
Published one more blog article that afternoon?
Or played cars for another twenty minutes while my son was four?
That question hurt a little.
Because being in the same house with my child does not automatically mean I’m being present with my child.
So I’m learning to structure my work around the hours when he’s at school or occupied elsewhere.
I’m trying to become more efficient precisely because I want to be less distracted when he’s with me.
That is becoming part of my discipline too.
Spiritual growth is showing up there.
Getting Closer to God May Not Start With Feeling Close to God
This may be the biggest thing I’m learning.
Sometimes we wait for the feeling.
We wait to feel spiritually motivated.
We wait for the perfect worship song.
We wait for the emotional moment.
We wait until we’re inspired enough to pray for an hour.
Maybe that happens.
But what if getting close to God starts before the feelings return?
Open the Bible anyway.
Pray anyway.
Sit quietly anyway.
Go back to church.
Turn off something distracting you.
Apologize.
Forgive.
Write down what you’re carrying.
Ask God what needs to change.
Take a walk and talk to Him.
Read one chapter.
Not ten.
One.
Then do it again tomorrow.
James 4:8 says:
“Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.”
There is movement in that verse.
Draw near.
Maybe you’re waiting for God to make you feel close again while He’s inviting you to take one step.
God Already Knows What You Did
One thing fatherhood keeps teaching me is how differently a parent sees failure.
When my son does something wrong and comes back to me, I don’t think:
Great. Now I finally have an opportunity to shame you for the next fifteen years.
He’s my son.
I may correct him.
There may be consequences.
I want him to learn.
But I also want him close.
I don’t want him hiding from me.
That makes me think about God.
How much greater is His mercy than mine?
The Bible is filled with people who failed.
David failed.
Peter failed.
Moses failed.
Jonah ran.
Thomas doubted.
The disciples misunderstood Jesus repeatedly.
And yet failure was not always the end of their story.
That’s important for me because sometimes shame disguises itself as humility.
We think sitting in guilt forever proves we understand how badly we messed up.
But eventually God calls us to get up.
Repent.
Learn.
Change.
Walk.
I can acknowledge that I mishandled things financially without deciding I am permanently irresponsible.
I can acknowledge mistakes in my marriage without deciding I am incapable of being a better husband.
I can acknowledge spiritual laziness without deciding I am far beyond restoration.
I can look at the truth and still have hope.
I’m Learning to Control Less and Trust More
Control has been a huge thing for me.
I like knowing what’s happening.
I like driving.
Literally and figuratively.
For most of our life together, I’m usually the one driving the car.
I’m the one thinking ahead.
I’m the one planning things.
I’m the one trying to solve the problem.
And some of that comes from love.
But I’ve started realizing something:
Too much control eventually becomes fear wearing responsible clothes.
I cannot control everything.
I cannot control every financial outcome.
I cannot control another person’s emotions.
I cannot control what happens five years from now.
I cannot control whether every decision works perfectly.
I can be responsible.
I can plan.
I can prepare.
I can work.
But somewhere after that, I have to release the outcome.
That’s difficult for me.
Which is probably why I need it.
My Goal Right Now Is Not to Become a Perfect Christian
I don’t even know what that would look like.
My goal is closeness.
I want to know God more.
I want prayer to become normal again.
I want His Word to become part of my everyday life again.
I want to be more sensitive to the things that disturb my peace.
I want to manage what He gives me better.
I want to be a better husband.
I want to be completely present as a father.
I want to become disciplined without becoming prideful about discipline.
I want to work hard without worshiping work.
I want to dream big without turning my dreams into my god.
I want money to serve the purpose God gives it instead of controlling me.
And I want the courage to write about the process honestly.
If You Feel Far From God, Start Here
I’m not going to give you twenty-seven steps.
I’m doing something much simpler myself.
Start with one honest prayer.
Something like:
“Father, I know I’ve drifted. I want You again. Show me where I need to change, and help me come back.”
Then open your Bible.
Read one chapter.
Sit quietly for a few minutes.
Put your phone somewhere else.
Write down what’s been sitting in your mind.
If you’ve wronged someone, make it right.
If there is something you know you need to stop, begin dealing with it.
If you haven’t been to church in a long time, consider going back.
If you’re carrying financial chaos, put the numbers on paper.
If your spouse has been trying to talk to you, listen.
If your child wants you to play, maybe play.
Not because doing those things earns God’s love.
But because sometimes drawing near to God changes the way we handle everything He has already placed around us.
I’m Still in the Middle of This Story
That’s probably the most important thing I can tell you.
I’m not writing this from some mountaintop.
I’m rebuilding too.
I’m working on our finances.
I’m listening more in my marriage.
I’m trying to spend intentional time with my son.
I’m becoming more disciplined.
I’m returning to Scripture.
I’m thinking seriously about fasting again.
I’m learning to control less.
I’m writing.
I’m reflecting.
I’m failing at some things.
I’m doing better at others.
I’m learning.
And somehow, through all of this, God put it in my heart to write a Christian blog.
I still find that funny.
Maybe someday I’ll look back and understand exactly why.
For now, I just know that hiding all the imperfect parts doesn’t help anybody.
Maybe somebody needs to hear from someone who is still rebuilding.
Maybe somebody needs to know that you don’t have to wait until you’re spiritually impressive to turn toward God.
Maybe the turning itself is the beginning.
If you feel like you’ve drifted, don’t make the mistake of thinking distance means the relationship is over.
Turn around.
Take one step.
Then another.
And another.
I’m doing the same thing.
God willing, one day we’ll look backward and realize that the small decision to return to Him changed the entire direction of our lives.
To God be the glory.