What happens to faith when hope is postponed long enough to feel like grief?

That question seems to hover over the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. I don’t read them as people abandoning their faith. Rather, they are carrying it slowly, painfully, and without the vitality it once had. Light steps have become heavy because their belief that Jesus Christ would redeem Israel has been shattered. Luke is careful with his language here. He does not portray them as skeptics or rebels. That detail matters. Instead, he paints a portrait of faithful people whose hopes have collapsed under the weight of unmet expectations. And so they speak one of the most vulnerable sentences in all of Scripture:

That phrase deserves to marinate for a while. There is a quiet dignity in their honesty. They do not dramatize their pain, nor do they spiritualize it. They simply tell the truth. That sentence holds memory and loss together. It honors the fact that hope once lived there. In a strange way, it is itself an act of faith. We do not grieve what never mattered. We do not mourn what never stirred our hearts. Disappointment is evidence that a belief once burned brightly, and perhaps still can.

Hope, when spoken in the past tense, is grief. Imagine a heart that once burned with anticipation now walking under the dim light of disappointment. Many Christians know this road well. Through it all, we still attend worship, still confess allegiance to Christ, still sing the songs, still know the language of belief. But something within us has cooled. Faith becomes a habit rather than a life. It feels correct, even respectable, but no longer alive.

What reels me in about Luke 24 is that after the resurrection, Jesus appears to these disciples in a hidden way. As they speak from the depths of melancholy, he does not interrupt their sadness. He does not immediately announce, “Guess who’s back,” or demand a renewed smile of confidence. He walks with them. He listens. He allows their disappointment to be voiced aloud. The risen Christ meets them precisely where they are. This should reshape how we think about God’s faithfulness toward us. Jesus allows their grief to exhale. Could it be that this is one of the places where God draws near right in the middle of our sorrow?

Many of us are walking our own long Emmaus road, carrying doubts, grievances, and disappointments. Life may look put together on the outside, but the interior story is different. One of my favorite theologians and voices on spiritual formation, Howard Thurman, understood this deeply. He did not write theology from a place of ease or abstraction. He lived and thought as a Black man in America, shaped by the daily realities of racial violence, exclusion, and spiritual distortion. He understood that faith, disconnected from suffering and the soul’s inner life, quickly becomes oppressive rather than liberating. For Thurman, Christianity was never meant to anesthetize pain or bypass disappointment. It was meant to awaken life.

Thurman believed the most dangerous threat to faith was not doubt, but deadness. A religion that remains orthodox yet fails to bring people alive has lost its way. This conviction resonates deeply with the Emmaus story. The disciples know the facts. They can recount what happened in Jerusalem. They are not ignorant of Scripture, tradition, or Jesus’ mission. What they lack is not information, but vitality. Their faith has become something they carry rather than something that carries them.

Here, Luke 24 confronts a common temptation in the Church: the urge to move too quickly past disappointment. We often treat sadness as a problem to solve rather than a truth to honor. I’ve seen this often, especially growing up in church. We rush toward resurrection language without lingering where hope feels buried. But the gospel does not hurry in this way. Jesus allows the disciples to tell their story fully before he begins to reinterpret it. This has taught me something essential about faith in seasons of grief:

One of the great gifts of the Black Church and African American Christian heritage is its refusal of shallow joy. Born in the crucible of suffering, it learned to trust God within despair rather than pretending it wasn’t there. Spirituals, prayers, and sermons emerged not because pain vanished, but because God was encountered inside it. Lament became an act of fidelity. To cry out was not to lose faith, but to practice it honestly. Thurman stood firmly in this tradition, insisting that the gospel must speak to the inner life of those whose outer lives are constrained. Anything that diminishes the soul, even when wrapped in religious language, stands opposed to the God of Jesus Christ.

If our hearts are to burn again, we must first name where faith has become burdensome. Why fear that honesty? Suppressed disappointment is not a badge of honor. Over time, it hardens belief and extinguishes joy. But when disappointment is spoken in the presence of Christ, it becomes the raw material for renewal.

This is why Thurman’s insight remains both unsettling and freeing:

That statement is profoundly theological. It assumes that God is the source of life, and that wherever life is genuinely awakened, God is already at work. Remember this:

Still, we must crawl before we walk. The Emmaus disciples will eventually feel their hearts burn again, but not immediately. This corrects a culture accustomed to immediacy, microwave ministry, and quick fixes. Renewal is rarely instant. Enjoying the faith again often comes through slow reengagement, patient walking, and honest conversation.

What if the heaviness many Christians feel is not a sign that faith is failing, but that it is asking to be renewed at a deeper level? What if God is less concerned with preserving our certainty than with restoring our aliveness? Luke 24 suggests that Christ walks patiently with disappointed believers, teaching them again how to see, listen, and live.

Having our hearts burn again does not begin with new answers. It begins with truth. It begins by admitting when the gospel has become more of a burden than a joy. It begins by trusting that Christ is neither offended by our weariness nor distant from it. Perhaps this is the first lesson of Emmaus: faith does not come alive again by force. It comes alive by accompaniment, by being heard, by being taught slowly, and by walking in the presence of love.

The road may feel long, but it is not empty. Christ is already walking there, listening for the moment when we finally dare to say,

“We had hoped.”

Practice for the Road

This week:

• Name one place where your faith feels tired rather than life-giving.

• Offer it to God without fixing it.

• Walk with the question instead of running from it.

Here is the truth: Jesus is waiting for you to lay it out before him.

Resources

• Thurman, Howard. The Creative Encounter: An Interpretation of Religion and the Social Witness. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1954.

• Thurman, Howard. Deep Is the Hunger: Meditations for Apostles of Sensitiveness. Richmond, IN: Friends United Press, 1951.

• Thurman, Howard. Jesus and the Disinherited. Boston: Beacon Press, 1949.

• Thurman, Howard. Meditations of the Heart. Boston: Beacon Press, 1953.

• Thurman, Howard. With Head and Heart: The Autobiography of Howard

• Thurman. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1979.

— bW

There is a moment in the Gospel of Luke when faith does not fail, but it does grow tired. If this is where you are in your faith journey, lock in to this article series! The story tells us of two disciples who walk away from Jerusalem, away from hope, carrying their faith with heaviness and disappointment. Imagine the despair on their face. Better yet, feel these words:

That statement could be the quiet confession of many Christians today.

This mini-anthology is an invitation to confront the disappointment and lack of joy in your walk with God, the creator of heaven and earth. The articles will help you relearn how to love the historic faith we already confess. To enjoy it. To feel it burn again for the Lord.

Chapter 24 of Luke’s first account tells us that Jesus sees these disciples. He joins them. He listens. He teaches them slowly, and the outcome is that their hearts catch fire. Do you want that fire again? As our guiding voice, we will listen to Dr. Howard Thurman, who once wrote:

For the disciples in Luke 24, Jesus opened their minds and poured the scriptures into them, causing their hearts to burn again for the risen King. May these next few articles be a blessing to you!

-bW

Well, let’s get to the heart of the matter on this last installment of a few leadership lessons from King Solomon.

….Guard your heart

1 Kings 11:4

“His heart was not wholly true to the Lord his God.”

Do you see that statement? Quite the contrast to his father (King David), who was a man after God’s own heart (1 Samuel 13:14). King Solomon’s heart was turned from the Lord. He gave God the military “About Face.” His actions expose the danger of an unguarded inner life that spiritual leaders will face, no matter who we are. Godly leaders must pursue obedience to God’s command. We need a perpetual “Yes” in our hearts.

What I learned about Solomon’s collapse is that it was not sudden sin; it was a slow drift. What makes a spiritual leader drift? The same as any son or daughter of the Lord: an unguarded heart full of hubris and disobedience.

The Bible consistently treats the heart as sacred ground.

“Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life” (Proverbs 4:23).

Ironically, these words come from Solomon himself. It’s a warning written with wisdom, yet proven by his experience. I believe he was begging us to know that guarding the heart is not optional for leaders. More like, foundational. Everything else flows from it. Our judgment, worship, obedience, and influence.

Solomon is a serious case study. His unguarded heart first revealed itself in defiance. He knew better. Divine loyalty was in his DNA. He defied God, who fiercely warned Israel not to intermarry with nations that served other gods (Deuteronomy 7:3–4), not out of prejudice, but protection. Solomon ignored the warning, trusting his wisdom to manage what God had clearly forbidden.

In other Scriptural headlines, we find out that:

“His wives turned away his heart.”

Notice that his mind was still sharp, his kingdom still functioning, but his heart was being reshaped. That is how the drift works. In my estimation, it rarely attacks our doctrine or intellect; it targets our affections.

Jesus preaches on this principle in Matthew 6:21, when He says,

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

If you keep reading in his story, Solomon’s treasures multiplied. He possessed more gold, influence, and relationships than any other person. It’s a clear message for Christ-centered leaders: the more hubris we experience, the more our affections will spread thin, and our allegiance weakens. It’s almost as if the heart is relocating love for the one true God to the false idols of the land.

Solomon begins by building altars to the gods Chemosh and Molech, which are directly opposed to the Lord. This is diabolical if you are familiar with his prayer in 1 Kings 8, where he dedicates the temple and pleads for Israel’s faithfulness. So, let me get this straight: the same hands that lifted in worship now sanction idolatry? That’s the cost of neglecting the inner life:

Now, God responds. He does not immediately remove Solomon, but He speaks clearly:

“Since this has been your practice and you have not kept my covenant, I will surely tear the kingdom from you” (1 Kings 11:11).

What’s important to know is that leadership continues outwardly, but divine favor withdraws inwardly. Pay close attention, though. Solomon’s first loss is not the throne, but influence with God. Scripture teaches this in many places for spiritual leaders. Samson loses strength when he gives away what was meant to be guarded (Judges 16). David does not fall on the battlefield, but at rest, when his vigilance fades (2 Samuel 11). In each case, the spiritual leader has drifted away from the assignment’s instructions. Haven’t we all been there?

Contrasting Solomon with Jesus Christ, we see that Jesus lives a relentless heart-guarding life. He withdraws to pray (Luke 5:16). He resists temptation by anchoring Himself in Scripture (Matthew 4). He loves people deeply without surrendering obedience. When offered the kingdoms of the world without the cross, He refuses (Matthew 4:8–10). Where Solomon opened doors, Jesus closed them. Jesus fulfills what Solomon warned but could not sustain: a heart wholly devoted to God. As my father used to say to me:

What does this mean for spiritual leaders today?

• Guard your heart when life is quiet.

• Guard it when success multiplies.

• Guard it when compromise feels reasonable.

• Guard it when you think wisdom alone will keep you safe.

• Guard it by praying it hot in the Lord’s presence.

• Guard it because your children’s divine purpose is attached to its obedience to God.

Solomon’s leadership story teaches us that we will lose any crown we willingly hand over to the enemy, who will gladly take it through the wandering of our affections. Stay in the Lord and on guard!

-bW

It’s a mix of theology, protest, and compassion meant to challenge, comfort, and, hopefully, shift perspectives.

You can view it below in addition to the full article. I’d love to know what it stirs in you.

Full Written Post:

There is a moment when suffering becomes inconvenient, not because it has ended, but because it has begun to speak too loudly. A mother crying at a border. A grown man pressed against a fence. A chant rising in the public square thousands of miles away. At first, these images trouble the conscience. Then they threaten the narrative. Finally, they are rebranded as dangerous. Now we know how victims become villains.

The “Empire” always needs a villain. When it runs out of monsters, it manufactures them from the wounded. When power feels fragile, it does not first reach for violence; it reforms the language. It decides who may be seen as human and who must be framed as a problem. The stranger becomes an “illegal.” The grieving become “rioters.” The desperate become “threats.” Language does the first act of violence, so that policy can finish the job. I love how the Proverb warns that death and life are in the power of the tongue (Proverbs 18:21).

In the United States, the people are to uphold its laws, but a proper observation of Scripture never confuses legality with righteousness. The law has always been accountable to God, not the other way around. The prophet Isaiah spoke: “Woe to those who make unjust laws to deprive the poor of their rights and withhold justice from the oppressed” (Isaiah 10:1–2). Again and again, the biblical story exposes the same pattern. The Israelites arrive in Egypt as guests and leave as enemies of the state (Exodus 1:8–14). We see that prophets are labeled traitors for telling the truth (Jeremiah 38:1–6). Healers (ministers of the land) become criminals once the crowds grow too large (Acts 7).

Jesus Himself was executed for disruption. The Gospels are explicit: Rome and religious leaders conspired because they feared losing control (John 11:48–53). The “Empire” speaks loudly and demands strongly. When compassion threatens control, compassion is labeled dangerous. When protests erupt around the world, we are instructed to focus on broken windows instead of broken lives. See the flames, not the funerals. Hear the sirens, not the silence. Believe the lie told in the media, not the truth the video shows.

Yet, Scripture shows that public lament has always been holy. The Psalms cry aloud in the streets. The prophets interrupt public order with grief. Jesus overturns tables and weeps openly over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41–44). Protest is grief that has nowhere else to go.

I pose a question: Are safety and compassion opposites? They are not. What truly frightens the empire is not disorder; it is radical compassion. Radical compassion closes the distance. It turns “them” into “us,” and “I” into “We.” And once that happens, the story breaks. So the wounded must be renamed. The displaced must be feared. The protesters must be punished because they are visible. Scripture has a Rhemah word for this:

“Then I looked again at all the acts of oppression which were being done under the sun. And behold I saw the tears of the oppressed and that they had no one to comfort them; and on the side of their oppressors was power, but they had no one to comfort them” (Ecclesiastes 4:1).

Across cultures, continents, and centuries, humanity has shared a moral intuition beyond its many differences: life is sacred. It bears meaning beyond utility. Genesis 1:27 names it plainly: human beings are made in the image of God (given purpose, dignity, value, and worth). I was not aware that this image expires at birth or diminishes at a border, disappears under poverty, accent, stress, or paperwork.

We claim to honor life, yet show astonishing comfort in degrading grown adults who bear that same image. Men and women with histories, memories, children, and names. Scripture never limits dignity to the unborn or the innocent alone. It commands honor for the stranger (Leviticus 19:34), justice for the poor (Amos 5:24), and protection for the vulnerable regardless of status (Deuteronomy 10:18–19). To deny dignity to adults is to confess that our theology of life is incomplete. #Breathe

Sanctity must not stop at the act of preventing death. What about degradation? Jesus not only kept people alive, but He also restored their dignity. He touched those deemed untouchable (Mark 1:40–42). He spoke with those society silenced (John 4). He warned that how we treat “the least of these” is how we treat Him (Matthew 25:40).

Objection, sir!

The Bible commands obedience to the law. Yes, and that same Bible honors those who disobeyed unjust laws in obedience to God. Hebrew midwives defied Pharaoh to preserve life (Exodus 1:15–17). Daniel defied the king’s decree (Daniel 6). The apostles defied the state and said plainly, “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). Biblical obedience has never meant moral silence.

Objection, sir!

Jesus was not political. Jesus was executed by the state, charged as a threat to public order, and killed under Roman authority (Luke 23). He confronted power, disrupted exploitative systems, and condemned religious leaders who used Scripture to burden the vulnerable (Matthew 23).

Objection, sir!

This is too emotional. I haven’t found in Scripture where emotion is treated as the enemy of truth. The prophets wept. The Psalms screamed. Jesus Himself wept (John 11:35). The problem is that indifference, not compassion, is what Scripture condemns (Revelation 3:15–16).

See, the real objection is not theological. It will be costly in proportion. To accept that victims are being turned into villains requires a change in language, a pivot in allegiance, and a willingness to be misunderstood. Until then, this is how the “Empires” objections multiply. Victims do not become villains by nature. The “Empire” reforms them. And the measure of our humanity will be found here: whether we accept that story, or refuse it.

-bW

Back again. In 1 Kings 3, Solomon asks for “an understanding heart to judge Your people and to discern between good and evil.” It’s a request that runs counter to how leadership usually works in our secular world.

What interests me about Solomon at the moment is that he is asking for a heart that listens or can assess properly during the heavy affairs of the people he will govern. If we were to peel back the layers of what an understanding heart is, we would learn that it isn’t about being soft, but more about being spiritually sharp in the right way.

The Hebrew idea behind “understanding” points to a heart that can hear. Hear language, core concerns, and sounds of the moment. I am imagining Solomon asking God to tune his inner life so he can catch what others miss. I think it is wise for us to pursue and model in our leadership.

How would we know the motives that exist beneath words, good and evil beneath appearance, or even what is true without the spirit of God leading our hearts? One could argue the street smarts that come from growing up fast, business tenure, relational wars, or surviving hard things, but that is not the divine level of discernment needed for God’s people. In our human brokenness, we still fail to stand close enough to God to see people the way He sees them.

That matters because leaders are constantly tempted to judge from the surface. In many cases, it is a misjudgment. Today, we call this stereotyping (a mistaken idea or belief many people have about a thing or group based on how they look on the outside, which may be untrue or only partly true). As I think on this more, I realize it is one of the biggest problems we face in terms of gospel unity, embracing and platforming diverse leadership, and more specifically, leading diverse people groups in the local church. It is hurting us more than it is helping us accomplish God’s mission individually and corporately. Sometimes, I wish we could be like Solomon and admit what we don’t know, so God can help us overcome those barriers.

The point I am making here is this: I don’t know whether Solomon knew better, but it was humble of him to ask God for the understanding to rule or judge rightly. Human eyes tend to misjudge.

• What looks like strength can be insecurity.

• What looks like opposition can be pain.

• What looks like righteousness can be pride.

• What looks like legacy can be ego.

• What looks like reputation can be rejection.

• What looks like love can be self-hatred.

Without God’s understanding heart, we will miss it every time. Now, I am hopeful because Solomon’s granted wisdom was always meant to help us see the past and to point us forward. Scripture keeps pressing the same pain point: humanity is horrible at defining good and evil on its own. From Eden onward, the issue is dependence on God’s spoken and established truth. When leaders decide good and evil without God, we always get it twisted. It’s playing out on a vast scale in our society. Pick any category (Economics, Immigration, Politics, Religion, Culture Wars, Violence, Humanity, etc).

Moving along, Solomon’s prayer is powerful because it admits that moral clarity doesn’t originate in us. It descends from God and reached its fullness in Jesus Christ.

Jesus was discernment in flesh (John 1). He walked into crowds and immediately read hearts (John 2:24-25). He calls out religious leaders without hesitation and restores broken people without confusion. He never confused volume for authority or appearance for truth. Where others judge by the outside, Jesus spoke directly to the core of humanity (Matthew 5-7).

Even at the cross, human judgment declared Jesus guilty, dangerous, and expendable (Luke 23). Heaven showed Him righteous, obedient, and necessary (Philippians 2:5-10). The cross exposes the gap between human discernment and God’s will. Without God, we will call good evil and evil good. With Christ, that confusion is finally confronted as He is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6)

What I am re-learning from Solomon on my spiritual leadership journey is this:

• I can be experienced and still misjudge people.

• I can be gifted and still miss what God is doing.

• I can be loud, respected, and wrong.

• I can give way to my default sin nature of performance and overlook God’s people.

What about you? Are you playing smart or allowing God to inculcate His heart of discernment in you?

Here is what I know: the way a leader judges God’s people reveals whether they are listening to culture, confidence, or Christ. My prayer is that God will slow His leaders down enough for us to listen, humble ourselves, and stay close enough to Him to borrow His sight. His people need Him, not us.

I hope this encourages you as much as it is encouraging me!

-BW

There was a tug in my heart today to take a look at King Solomon. So, I pulled up 1 Kings 3:1-15 today and observed Solomon at a defining moment of leadership with a posture that feels almost offensive to modern notions of authority. He has assumed the throne from his father David, and rather than boast of readiness, he humbly pours out his inability for such a great task.

Standing before God in a dream at Gibeon, Solomon confesses:

“I am but a little child. I do not know how to go out or come in.”

Who talks like this? Who would even refer to themselves at this low level while in a position so high? See, this is why I love the bible and the Old Testament in particular. Many men were more honest about their shortcomings. Much different than leadership today. We often feel we were born ready and graced for leading. Scary to even think about. However, Solomon’s confession rocked me.

Is the confession giving weakness? Absolutely not. It is wisdom. Solomon, a man who never governed a people, rightly acknowledged that I have no idea what I am doing in leading God’s people. If I hadn’t seen humility on display, this is surely it. Solomon honestly shows that true spiritual leadership begins where self-assurance ends. A child’s self-description reveals a heart that understands the full weight of responsibility. I appreciate Solomon deeply because he knew they were not his people. They are God’s people. And only God knows them fully.

Now, what Solomon asks for is nothing, like we have seen before in the scriptures. When God asks Solomon for his wish, he does not request long life, wealth, material possessions, or the destruction of his enemies.

He asks for:

“an understanding heart to judge Your people, to discern between good and evil.”

Does this sound like elite intelligence? No. It shows that He desired God’s way of leadership for His people. We know this by the question he poses to God in v.9:

For who is able to Judge this great people of Yours?

I mean, sit with that for a moment, why don’t you? Solomon recognizes that justice among God’s people cannot be administered solely on the basis of anthropology. Secular culture, psychology, therapy culture, and lived experiences are insufficient. God’s people require leaders who see from God’s vantage point.

Maybe this is the spiritual leadership gap where we are faltering today. The breakdown occurs when we lead from expertise rather than servanthood, or when we lead as analysts rather than intercessors. Hear me; if we rely on our understanding of people, our experiences, traumas, successes, and failures as the metrics of knowing humanity, we will automatically limit ourselves in shepherding and leading those who belong to God. At some point, we must admit, we don’t know them.

The good news is that the Scriptures are a sufficient and reliable help, and I am learning that God’s people are a sacred trust. To lead them well requires divine discernment that only God can give.

As the encounter continues, God is pleased with Solomon’s request because it reflects alignment with His heart. Do you see that Solomon wants what God wants: righteous leadership rooted in divine wisdom and proper administration of justice. And God responds by granting him wisdom that transcends human categories, discerns motives, weighs truth, and administers justice according to heaven’s standard, not his kingly ego (v.10-15). How did this happen?

Well……Solomon did something for God before the dream encounter.

He brings the sacrifice (v.4-5)

“The king went to Gibeon to sacrifice there… Solomon offered a thousand burnt offerings on that altar.”

Sacrifice created space for the encounter with God. Before Solomon received wisdom, he surrendered something costly. This detail matters, my friends. Slow your reading of Scripture down.

Spiritual Leadership that seeks God’s wisdom must pass through the altar, or in “New Covenant Creation” terms, the cross of Jesus Christ. The person and work of Christ have afforded us an open throne room to offer up self-sufficiency, ego, ambition, knowability, and control. When leaders give themselves fully to God, we pivot our hearts to receive what cannot be engineered: understanding, discernment, and the knowledge of good and evil shaped by God’s heart for His people.

What an invitation for leaders today! Stop leading as if you already know. Let us return to God as a child. Ask Him for help. Ask Him how to shepherd or lead “who” belongs to Him. God’s people deserve leaders whose authority flows from intimacy, whose decisions are marinated in prayer, and whose wisdom is born not of experience alone, but of surrender. The future of spiritual leadership depends not on stronger personalities but on humble hearts. Leaders willing to kneel before they govern, to sacrifice before they speak, and to ask God for what only He can give.

I hope this encourages you as much as it encouraged me!

-BW

Have you ever noticed that the life of a shepherd is quieter than most of us imagine? As a matter of fact, when was the last time you witnessed a shepherd in the pasture with their sheep? It’s not a site you see often due to its off-grid placement, but it also serves as a metaphor for our daily lives. Similar to shepherds, we have been blessed with our own pastures that allow us to care for our people, families, and responsibilities.

Something to note here is that pastures don’t buzz with excitement. There are no flashing lights, smoke machines, conference stages, big screens, elite audio/visual presentations, and no applause. There is only open space, slow rhythms of grass swaying in the breeze, sweat from the work of herding, and the quiet call to keep watch over the sheep.

It’s in the pasture where one can pay closer attention to the sheep in their fold. Many are not called to the hard obscure mission of the pasture. It’s a hard, demanding, and weighty position. I often think about the intimate dinner Jesus had with Peter after the resurrection. I can see Jesus looking his disciple in the eyes before giving him the great command, as it was time to restore Peter. When Jesus restored Peter on the shore of Galilee, he did not hand him a 100-page strategic plan or a list of ministry metrics to obsess over. Jesus gave him one task:

Look at John 21:15-17

“Feed my Sheep.”

It was a singular call, profound in its simplicity and demanding in its constancy. Therefore, it is inherent in the essence of pastoral ministry and Christian mission itself. Whether one is a local pastor, a missionary in a faraway field, or a believer shepherding their own family, the pasture is where God calls us, where He molds us, and where He steadies us.

I'd like to take the rest of the article to unpack three key notes briefly. They are not glamorous notes, but they form the melody of God’s shepherding mission: simplicity, ordinariness, and consistency—a framework I was given by my dear friend, Steve Gunter.

One sec….Don’t think of these like bullet points in a leadership manual, but more like notes in a jazz tune. Each on its own is modest, but together they create a harmony that echoes the voice of the Good Shepherd.

Note 1: Simplicity

The first truth of pasture life is its simplicity. Shepherding a ministry, at its heart, is about God’s people.

Jesus’ words to Peter remain our central charge:

“Feed my sheep.”

Of course, ministry can be complicated. Congregations have budgets, buildings, conflicts, and crises. The same in our own households. But beneath all of that lies one unchanging reality: God entrusts shepherds with people. The task is not scattered across a hundred goals but unified in one: to tend the flock.

Eugene Peterson, in The Contemplative Pastor, wrote that pastors must be “unbusy.”¹ This is not a simple statement to live by because it implies we are willing to unearth the corporate system in us. By that, he did not mean idle, but undistracted, resisting the constant pull toward programs, strategies, and reputations. The shepherd is called to be fully present to the sheep, not lost in administrative noise or cultural expectations.

John Piper struck a similar chord in Brothers, We Are Not Professionals.² He argued that the pastor is not called to be a corporate manager, a motivational speaker, or a religious CEO. The pastor is called to be a shepherd, absorbed in the Word of God and in the care of souls. To professionalize ministry, Piper insists, is to trade the pasture for the office, the sheepfold for the boardroom.

In a society obsessed with productivity and numbers, simplicity is itself a form of resistance. It insists that ministry is about souls, not spreadsheets. It holds fast to the truth that the shepherd’s success is measured not in platforms or applause, but in the flourishing of the flock.

Simplicity reminds us: one task, one flock, one pasture.

Note 2: Ordinary (Ordinariness)

If simplicity names the task, ordinariness names the setting. Shepherding ministry does not usually take place on stages or in spotlight moments. It happens in kitchens, hospital rooms, coffee shops, and pews (or modern) that creak on Sunday mornings.

The pasture is not glamorous. Sheep don’t applaud their shepherd. They don’t marvel at the skill of the one who tends them (Psalm 78:72). They wander, they graze, they require patience. Much of shepherding is repetitive and unseen.

The apostle Paul urged the Thessalonians (1 Thessalonians 4:11)

“aspire to live quietly, and to work with your hands”

Christian ministry often flourishes in such obscurity. Karl Barth once described the pastor’s task as “a small, quiet work, done faithfully for these people, in this place.”³ That line captures the essence of ordinariness.

At times, our modern life can distract us from this reality. Eugene Peterson criticized the contemporary tendency to view pastors as “religious managers,” constantly chasing relevance.⁴ Against that backdrop, ordinariness is not weakness but faithfulness. It is the courage to stay small, to live in hidden places, to believe that God works most powerfully through quiet faithfulness.

Jesus himself lived this way. For thirty years, the Son of God lived an unremarkable life as a carpenter in Nazareth, working with wood, eating meals, and walking in obscurity. When he entered public ministry, it was not as a celebrity but as a carpenter from a forgotten village.

Ordinariness is not a detour from God’s mission. It is the very soil in which God’s kingdom grows.

Note 3: Consistency

If simplicity is the focus and ordinariness is the setting, consistency is the rhythm. Shepherds cannot appear only when it feels inspiring. Sheep require daily attention for feeding, guiding, protecting, and correcting.

Paul put it plainly in 1 Corinthians 4:2:

“It is required of stewards that they be found faithful.”

Faithfulness is not occasional brilliance but steady presence. It is showing up, day after day, week after week, year after year.

This steady rhythm mirrors God’s own covenantal consistency with His people.

Jeremiah sang of this 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”

God’s faithfulness is not seasonal; it is unbroken. His mercies do not take days off.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in ‘Life Together,” described the Christian community as built not on extraordinary experiences, but on daily practices: prayer, Scripture, confession, and service.⁵ Ministry, likewise, grows in the repetition of ordinary acts done faithfully. Consistency is unglamorous. It rarely draws applause. But it builds something lasting, a people formed into maturity in Christ.

The Weight of the Pasture

However, let us be honest: life in the pasture is not without its hardships. Shepherds walk in storms, defend against wolves, and sometimes tend sheep who bite the very hands that feed them. The work is demanding, often lonely, and at times unbearably heavy.

If you feel weary in your calling, you are not alone. Moses once cried out in exasperation (Numbers 11:14)

“I cannot carry all this people alone; the burden is too heavy for me” (Num. 11:14).

The pasture is not an easy place, but it is a holy place.

And here is the richer truth: shepherds are not left to pasture alone. The Chief Shepherd (Jesus) not only entrusts sheep to your care, but He cares for you. He restores your soul beside still waters (Ps. 23:2–3). He carries the lambs in his arms, and sometimes that lamb is you (Isa. 40:11). Before you are a pastor, you are a sheep. Before you are a missionary, you are a beloved child.

The pasture is God’s before it is ours, and he sustains those who labor in it.

Patience with the Slow Work of God

One of the hardest parts of shepherding is the slowness of the work. Grass grows slowly. Sheep mature gradually. Fruit ripens only in season. Many ministers wrestle with discouragement when change is not immediate.

But Scripture calls us to a long view (James 5:7)

“See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains”

Faithfulness in the pasture means trusting the Spirit to do in decades what we cannot accomplish in days. God is never hurried, and yet he is never late. What may feel like obscurity or stagnation is often the hidden work of grace, forming lives, shaping hearts, and cultivating maturity that will only be seen in time.

Ok, I’m Done

There is the sweet melody of the pasture. Simplicity. Ordinariness. Consistency. These are the three notes of pastoral life. Alone, each seems modest. Together, they form a melody that echoes the music of Christ’s own shepherding love.

Life in the pasture is not about speed, brilliance, or spectacle. It is about faithfulness to a simple call, lived out in ordinary places, with the steady consistency of presence. This is the life Jesus lived, and it is the life he calls us to follow.

The Good Shepherd still leads us into the pasture. And those who follow him—whether as pastors, missionaries, or everyday disciples—will discover that the pasture is not barren but abundant. Here we find the slow, steady work of the Spirit, who grows people into maturity not through flash or frenzy, but through faithful shepherding.

The world may never notice the shepherd’s quiet work. But the flock will. And more importantly, the Chief Shepherd will. And on that day,

Peter reminds us in (1 Peter 5:4)

“when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory” (1 Pet. 5:4).

That is the reward of pasture life. And it is worth everything.

References

1. Eugene H. Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor: Returning to the Art of Spiritual Direction (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989),

2. John Piper, Brothers, We Are Not Professionals: A Plea to Pastors for Radical Ministry (Nashville: B&H, 2002), xiii.

3. Karl Barth, The Word of God and the Word of Man (Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1978),

4. Peterson, The Pastor: A Memoir (New York: HarperOne, 2011),

5. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (New York: Harper & Row, 1954),

“The great ethical decisions of life are not to be taken lightly, for they become part of the very fabric of the self.”
— Howard Thurman, Disciplines of the Spirit

Some ethical conflicts arrive with headlines or unexpected text messages. Others arrive quietly in a late-night prayer, a disturbing pastoral conversation, or a high-stakes leadership decision no one else may ever see. These are not always matters of life-threatening persecution, nor are they rooted in personal sin, as many would like to think. They are ethical trials, not simply decisions of right and wrong. More accurately, tests of who we are becoming through the inward moral wars that expose and form our spiritual selves.

In this two-part series, I aim to frame such ethical issues as spiritual trials distinct from external life trials (suffering, persecution) and internal sin (lust, pride, rebellion). After reading Howard Thurman’s Disciplines of the Spirit, I observed that ethical crucibles test our new covenant identity, biblical convictions, and formation in Christ.

In Part I, I’ll do my best to lay the theological and biblical groundwork, drawing from Daniel’s story, the work of Soren Kierkegaard (although I will not criticize like he did), and Howard Thurman’s book Disciplines of the Spirit. In Part II, we will turn toward practical strategies for navigating ethical trials with spiritual integrity, or what Thurman eloquently positioned as the “Inward Journey.”

The Groundwork of Ethical Trials: Between Suffering and Sin

I now understand ethical trials are distinct from the other two major categories of spiritual testing: Suffering and Sin. However, what is interesting to me is that they are still a part of the spiritual testing that, in many cases, will cause us to sin or honor God.

Where life trials are endured and sin is confessed, ethical trials must be discerned because they require soul-searching (Psalm 139:23), identity-rooted clarity (Psalm 32:8), and often, painful obedience (Psalm 39:10-11). I synthesize these into a triangle playbook for the spiritual formation of our inner and outer struggles in becoming what God demands of His people.

I just learned this word, so I’m not flexing, but the Scriptures provide a range of categories for testing, using the Greek term peirasmos (trial, temptation, or test). Using a framework, we can broadly identify this as the triangle playbook of spiritual challenge:

1. Life Trials – External suffering not caused by moral decision: illness, persecution, loss (Job 1; Genesis 50:20; Romans 5:3-5). The believer’s pursuit ought to be endurance and trust in their faith.

2. Sin – Internal disordered will or rebellion (Romans 3:23; Psalm 51; Galatians 5:17). The believer’s pursuit ought to be repentance and renewal.

3. Ethical Trials – Decisions that test spiritual character and identity (Daniel 6; Esther 4; Matthew 4:1-11). The believer’s pursuit ought to be moral courage and Christlike formation.

I’ll phrase it this way in terms of applied theology,

Ethical trials are the moments when the outer culture demands an action, but the actual battle takes place in the minister’s inner life.

Case Study

I am very impressed with the life of this young teenager named Daniel. Scholars believe he was between the ages of 14 and 17 (based on the Babylonian elite training program requirement). For me, he leads a life of conviction and not mere belief. He should be studied well beyond workplace success methodology.

Speeding up a bit, Daniel’s confrontation with Babylon’s decree (Dan. 6:6-10) is not a matter of outward rebellion but inward resolve. He does not posture or protest. He continues his life of deep prayer, even when it becomes politically dangerous.

He is faced with ethical decisions that are both private and public in their consequences (God’s allegiance and Nebuchadnezzar’s public policy), yet habitual and courageous in their depth. Daniel's ethical trial teaches us that spiritual discipline is the soil from which ethical clarity grows. His moment in Scripture is beyond Daniel avoiding sin or suffering unjustly. It is a test of moral conviction and Godly transformation. Will he remain faithful to his disciplined life with God when the costs rise? Scripture shows that he did.

Look at the scripture on his resolve in Daniel 6:10:

“When Daniel knew that the document had been signed, he went to his house… and got down on his knees three times a day and prayed…”

Immersing myself in this topic, I stumbled across Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855), a Danish philosopher, thinker, and Christian. His reflections in Fear and Trembling and The Sickness Unto Death highlight ethical trials as matters of identity and vocation, which are beneficial to our ministerial life. In philosophical depth, he is an excellent addition to Thurman’s work on the trial of the self.

In Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaard describes Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac as a teleological suspension of the ethical—a test not of moral logic but of radical obedience rooted in trust. I recently preached James 1:19-27 (Responsive Faith), and this is the whole reality James is getting after.

v22…

“But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves…”

What James is showing us through the inspiration of the spirit is that our Soteriology must be trained in our Bibliology and acted out in our Physiology. Theology in our hearts. The scriptures in our hands. Obedience in our bodies. Soren's observation that Abraham exudes radical obedience is spot on.

In The Sickness Unto Death, Kierkegaard reveals that despair arises when one refuses to become the self that God intends. This was striking to me because this is where spiritual or missional formation manifests. If I am reading him rightly, ethical trials are moments of either alignment with or avoidance of our true selves before God.

Ethical Trials as Spiritual Disciplines

Howard Thurman’s Disciplines of the Spirit blessed my whole life. He gave a theological roadmap for understanding ethical trials as tools of inner formation. I’ll unpack more in article 2, but for now, here is one that strikes deeply:

Commitment

Thurman is determining that ethical clarity requires spiritual and moral commitments. When we encounter difficult choices in life, we must lean on the commitments already forged through prayer, scripture, and formation, not our default human impulse. Inserting Daniel once again (1:8):

“But Daniel resolved that he would not defile himself with the King’s food, or with the wine that he drank...”

Thurman challenges ministers and believers alike to cultivate ethical strength not by reacting to crisis, but by nurturing a life of disciplined spiritual practice.

Jesus Gives the Devil that Ethical Work:

Jesus' temptation by the devil in the wilderness is an ethical trial of His messianic vocation (Matthew 4:1-11). Jesus displays the “Triangle Offense” towards the devil.

1. Stones to bread – Misusing power to serve self (vv. 3-4)

2. Throw yourself down – Demanding God to prove His care (vv. 5-7)

3. Bow to Satan – Gaining power without the cross (vv. 8-11)

Each temptation is framed by Scripture, but resisted by gospel identity. We must know that “It is written...” is not merely a quote to plug into a sermon; it is the outpouring of a life deeply shaped by Scripture, discipline, and divine sonship.

Jesus, like Daniel, shows that ethical trials are not to be won in the moment, but our pre-formed souls are to endure them.

So, what does all this mean? Why are ethical trials so important? What are we ministers to do with this reality? Two simple points:

1. The Scripture demands a deeper standard: Christlikeness formed in the wilderness of ethical testing.

2. Ethical trials will come. The question is: Will our souls be ready?

Reflection Questions

1. What recent ethical decision have you faced that required spiritual rather than strategic clarity?

2. Are your current spiritual disciplines forming the kind of soul that can withstand ethical pressure?

3. In what ways do you need to recover or deepen your spiritual commitments to Christ?

4. Where might your public ethics be outpacing your inner formation?

Resources:

1. Howard Thurman, Disciplines of the Spirit (Friends United Press, 1963).

2. Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling, trans. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton University Press, 1983).

3. Soren Kierkegaard, The Sickness Unto Death, trans. Hongs (Princeton, 1980).

Behind the calling of preaching sermons, planting churches, building businesses, hiring staff, developing leaders, caring for many people, and implementing strategies, lies a quiet internal crisis: a battle for identity. An identity that secretly craves love, affirmation, validation, and association.

It’s a resonant battle whether new, in between, or seasoned. Line up any person in a leading capacity and assess them through what philosophers call the “Examined Life,” and you will witness the evidence. Leaders are not immune to the pull of performance, living for the approval of others, building an impressive image, or compensating for inadequacy with overwork.

The intersections of impressions, validation, and overcompensation are not unique to marketplace or ministry calling; they are universal in our humanity. However, when they remain unaddressed in the minister specifically, there is a distorted calling and drain on spiritual vitality, turning soul-caring shepherds into stage performers, which leads to burnout, comparison, and, in some cases, collapse.

The way forward is not to abandon our leadership but to reclaim our God-designed identity in Christ. I believe the gospel message we hold fast to offers multiple layers of transformation. One layer of transformation is freedom from the exhausting need to prove ourselves.

Paul the Apostle addressed the Galatians on this. It’s more than a statement; it’s a true learning that Paul had done deep work to overcome.

“For am I now seeking the favor of men, or of God? Or am I striving to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a bondservant of Christ.” (Galatians 1:10)

At some point in Paul’s life, he was a people pleaser. As he testifies, he reveals that the power of the gospel had changed that appetite. A prerequisite to serve the Lord fully. This is our hope as well.

Honest moment: I was excited that people would call me pastor during my first pastorate. In retrospect, I carried the wrong intentions of thinking of the divine position in a modicum of ways. It spoke to my desire and identity as a younger man with the ambition to work for the position rather than for the Lord.

It was not an intentional choice, but a pull I did not recognize until a deep assessment years later. It’s a tricky spike strip because outsiders seem to take the minister's life more seriously than the minister at times. So, calling ourselves ministers alone can subconsciously hype up our position and roll the spike strip across the journey’s road if we are not careful.

The Trap of Impressions

Impressions are about optics, determined by how we’re perceived, packaged, and positioned. This matters, but not to the degree most believe. A spirit of excellence and clarity in the mission has its proper place, but danger emerges when our internal disposition needs to appear spiritual, competent, or “anointed” while going unchecked.

Jesus made a cold warning in Matthew 6:1:

“Beware of practicing your righteousness before others to be seen by them”

Jesus knew how deeply the demands of the heart would reach, starting with your impressionable right deeds. Ministers and leaders obsessed with impression management will inevitably neglect soul care and rely more on persona than on God alone to complete the work. Think of it this way: our calling becomes a performance for others while the heart grows hollow beneath the surface, simultaneously.

The Addiction to Validation

I'd like you to hear me and read this well. Validation is not wrong. We were made for relational affirmation. It happens within the sustenance of the beloved community. But when validation becomes the fuel for ministry, platforms, and influence, we are trapped in spiritual quicksand. Look, the temptation to derive validation from growing numbers, social media praise, intentionally constructed “Yes People" teams, or constant affirmation is real.

Jesus rebuked this tendency in John 5:44:

“How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from only God?”

The implications of this verse are about raising your gaze to receive the glory only God can give. My favorite movie is Gladiator. Maximus has been sold into slavery and now has to fight for freedom. There is a scene where Maximus has been summoned to the quarters of Proximo. Proximo asks Maximus what he wants. Maximus replies, “I want my freedom.” Proximo responds, “Win the crowd, win your freedom.”

For Maximus, it meant that he needed to bring Rome’s general out, perform, and give the crowd what they wanted. I often think about how deeply this action is embedded in many leaders.

Overcompensating for inadequacy

Overcompensation is often rooted in a fear of failure and feelings of inadequacy. Insecure leaders frequently become high-capacity performers, covering inner doubts with outward excellence. Hiding insecurity with hyper-competence is unsustainable and must be desperately healed with a soul-care resting system.

Recently, my wife and I finished the “House of David” on Amazon Prime. Afterward, I wanted to reacquaint myself with the biblical narrative to extract leadership principles that I could apply and teach for discipleship development. I considered overcompensation while asking if it was evident in my life.

The example of King Saul is telling. In 1 Samuel 13-15, under pressure, Saul disobeys God and offers unauthorized sacrifices. His fear of public opinion and insecurity led him to overreach. Samuel confronts him:

“Though you are little in your own eyes, are you not the head of the tribes of Israel?” (1 Sam. 15:17)

The irony of overcompensation is that it increases anxiety, not peace. Rarely do we want to be viewed as weak. However, God has determined it to be a good thing, as it is the place where He will do His best work through us.

Paul writes,

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor. 12:9)

To be comfortable in your weakness is to be secure in the grace of God. This ought to spill over into our calling. We do not have to impress, seek validation, and overcompensate for what Jesus has freely endowed us with because of His work on the cross.

Before we are ministers and leaders, we are sons and daughters. Before we lead others, we must let Christ lead us. If we do not confront our need for false identity, we produce an output that is externally fruitful but internally rotten.

Paul reminds us:

“It is not the one who commends himself who is approved, but the one whom the Lord commends.” (2 Cor. 10:18)

Here it is…

God has affirmed and commended us. He has not bestowed upon us the power to commend ourselves. We need to realize our true position.

Let me give you a few soul care practices:

• Silence before calling – to reset approval from God, not people.

• Prayer of renunciation – rejecting identity rooted in praise, platform, influence, or productivity.

• Confession with trusted leaders – naming where false identity and insecurity are driving behavior for you.

• Scripture meditation – focus on passages about being chosen, hidden, and secure in Christ.

May the grace of our Lord strengthen you immeasurably and free you from being caught in the traps of impressions, validations, and overcompensating for people.

-BW

The Identity Crisis

One evident aspect of modern culture is that we live in a world that equates identity with productivity. Identity chains of performance pursuits shackle Western culture. As ministers walking worthy of the call, I urge awareness that performance cultures are integrated in the local church and corporate environments, where output, competence, and visible results measure our leadership worth.

I don’t take offense at the climate because I understand both immensely. One world is at the mercy of the client (Corporate), while the other is at the mercy of the congregant (Local Church). What is a business without clients? What is a church without congregants? How do you keep both?

As someone who has lived on both sides as a hybrid of that divide—corporate and ministry—I know the inner pull of success and the outer demands of high-capacity leadership. By nature, I am high-functioning, multi-gifted, high-driving, and hard-stopping. My self-awareness is not a flex or boast. While it might be more of a blessing to others, it’s a burden to me. However, it is how God has wired me, but I lived in the middle of these worlds for years, delaying my ability to find divine rest or soul care.

Scripture doesn't call us to abandon skill or capacity; it calls us to place them at Jesus' feet for Him to redeem them into the proper identity and pace of purpose. If we are to walk worthy of the call, let us realize that rest doesn’t begin when the calendar clears but when the heart surrenders in His presence.

I need you to know that “Rest” is the declaration that Christ is enough in a world that demands more.

Overengineering

More often than not, I have to preach to myself: Stop Overengineering. I am a recovering life planner and driver. My life and background are reasons why, but that is another article. Overengineering prevents us from resting because we’ve attached our identity to inner ambition. Only in ministry can you hide your secret to be number one. This is why you must interrogate your desires through deep fellowship in Christ.

Consider this question deeply for a moment: “If I stop striving, who am I?” This is not merely a psychological issue. It’s theological. That statement is mainly for those who understand the necessity of a robust faith life, but it is still one to ponder if you are reading this without a proclaimed faith in Jesus Christ. The answer lies in whether you believe the Creator of all things created you, or that you are the creator of all things. However, the point here is stillness or a hands-off approach.

Here is a reality: Unchecked desires or ambitions will drive us to overengineer our schedules, family, work, and worth. You might not want to hear this, but it is idolatry of the self. It’s hard to stop when you are “Winning.”

I’ll speak for myself. It was time to confront this reality. I did not need the Lord to work on me; I went to His feet as a beggar asking Him to heal me. When I talk about divine rest, it’s not the absence of activity; it’s the presence of submission. It's the refusal to build identity on anything but Christ.

As Augustine of Hippo, a theologian and philosopher in the 4th and early 5th centuries, rightly said:

“You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.”- Confessions, Book I

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Deconstructing Secular Business Mindsets

If you are reading this, you probably think I am against creating a life worth living. Rest assured: I am not. Pursue a full life. This journal is focused on helping you walk worthy of God's calling on your life. I am thankful that God renewed my thinking. So, let’s start with a business-renewing mindset. All business is an opportunity to glorify God. #Thatpart

In Business for the Glory of God, Wayne Grudem affirms that business and productivity are not just necessary—they are morally good, when rightly stewarded:

“Ownership, productivity, employment, and profit—all are fundamentally good and provide many opportunities for glorifying God.”- Wayne Grudem

Grudem taught me that there is no separation between ministry and marketplace. They are both sacred, good things created by God for us to pursue and lift to our creator. Not subscribing to a view that the marketplace is neutral, but seeing it as a divinely given realm for love of neighbor, stewardship, and creativity, will alter how you see the business world. But Grudem does insert a caveat that is just as vital:

“if these good things become ultimate, they distort our calling and damage our souls.- Wayne Grudem

Your true rest is determined by how well you are re-centered to a Christ-centered ambition while establishing your business around serving, not striving. Remember that work is stewardship, not self-justification.

How to Resist in a Culture of Overproduction

This topic reminds me of Daniel’s story in the Bible. He was in exile, and his story speaks directly to those working under high pressure and performance expectations. Babylon was a place of results, image, and institutional power. Does this remind you of another place? Yet Daniel, a high-performing leader, resisted the idolatry of ambition. Here are some reference points to study more in your quiet times.

1. Daniel Refused Cultural Identity Desires (Daniel 1:8)

I love Daniel because he was young and had a spiritual standard. He had a conviction about the God he served. His refusal to defile himself with the king’s food was more than dietary; it was spiritual. He understood the slow, seductive power of being fed by a system that wanted to rename and reshape him. He stood on spiritual business: God defines my provision and my worth.

2. Daniel Chose Presence Over Productivity (Daniel 6:10)

Despite the high pressure and real danger, Daniel kept sacred intentional rhythms of prayer. Prayer was his secret weapon. He did not try to fit God into Babylon’s schedule; he had to fit Babylon around God’s presence. #Bars. In a performance culture, you must know that rest is a declaration of allegiance.

3. Daniel Waited for God’s Word (Daniel 9–10)

Daniel didn’t engineer/overengineer a strategy in crisis like many. He fasted, lamented, and waited. See, his life skill of getting to the feet of God yielded room for God to speak rather than rushing to solve his problems.

So, don’t stress out or reject your talents. Take them to Jesus.

His invitation in Matthew 11:28–30 is not to do less but to do justly. When He says, “Take my yoke, and I will give you rest,” He recalibrates our labor efforts toward relational trust. That does not mean we are unyoked from responsibility, but are yoked with Him.

Therefore, our talents are not to be abandoned, but renewed. When we do, here is what will happen: Our innovation becomes a service. Our leadership becomes worship. Our efficiency becomes mercy.

Ministers do the Work First

This orientation is essential for those called to ministry. A minister cannot lead people out of restlessness if they have not first submitted their identity. Paul’s command to walk worthy of the calling (Eph. 4:1) includes a call to lay down ambition disguised as calling.

If our ministries or platforms are built on the same performance ethos as the world’s systems, they may succeed outwardly but fail spiritually. We will no longer carry a Shepherd’s Heart, but will continue with a Manager’s Heart. The intrinsic fruit of the Spirit will not grow from an unrested root.

A pure heart is the first platform of fruitful ministry.

Before we preach to others about rest, we must enter it ourselves. Before we bear fruit in the lives of others, we must allow our hearts to be pruned of restlessness, entitlement, and overidentification with our ministry roles.

Practices of Redemptive Rest

• Watch your desires. What do you most fear losing? What are you trying to prove? Let those questions lead to surrender.

• Reclaim your rhythms. Like Daniel, stand on business. Create sacred spaces of prayer, Scripture, and silence that resist the speed of culture.

• Submit your talents. Lay your capacities before the Lord, not as trophies, but as tools for kingdom work. He is not surprised by your gifts because He gave them to you. Let Him redefine their purpose.

• Rest as worship. Practice rest not as an escape, but as an act of allegiance. Let your resting declare: “God, You are enough.”

Rest is Identity Reclaimed, Not Activity Removed

Rest is not the absence of work; it is the absence of striving to be someone you're already declared to be in Christ. Say this:

“I am not what I do. I am who God says I am.”

Let the gospel renew your talents. Let your ambitions be filtered by grace. And let your leadership be grounded in the presence of the One who has already finished the most important work.

Recommended Resources

• Wayne Grudem, Business for the Glory of God: The Bible’s Teaching on the Moral Goodness of Businesshttps://www.crossway.org/books/business-for-the-glory-of-god-tpb/

• Tim Keller, Every Good Endeavor: Connecting Your Work to God’s Workhttps://www.amazon.com/Every-Good-Endeavor-Connecting-Work/dp/0525952702

• Hugh Whelchel, How Then Should We Work? Rediscovering the Biblical Doctrine of Workhttps://tifwe.org/resources/how-then-should-we-work/

• John Mark Comer, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurryhttps://www.amazon.com/Ruthless-Elimination-Hurry-John-Comer/dp/0525653090

Sticky Note: Rest is when we can walk into Jesus' open arms with our burdens and anxieties in exchange for His soul-nourishing rest.

I can only imagine seeing Jesus with His arms stretched wide open in anticipation of the readiness of His people to lay their burdens down at His feet. Yet, many skip out on His rest as if it were leg day in the gym.

I’ve heard many sermons and podcasts on the subject of rest. Pastors have imparted wisdom for the ages around the realities of busyness and burnout. As I considered the subject in preparation for this article, I desired to deconstruct what I have heard, learned, and adopted for a fresh idea. To me, the ability to find rest for your soul is in the discipline to implement this posture as a life skill to reap the spiritual benefits that tag along with believing faith.

In the faith journey, rest is often treated as optional or a spiritual luxury to be pursued when time allows or stress demands. If I look at the man in the mirror, I see that it was previously deployed in my life as a practice of “self-care” or a recommended task. But biblically, rest is not a suggestion or a temporary strategy; it is an invitation (1 Peter 5:6-7) to the instruction of Jesus Christ to cast our burdens.

Peter the Apostle writes it like this in 1 Peter 5:6-7:

Therefore, humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you."

Peter preaches that to receive the care we need for our anxiety, we must humble ourselves under God's mighty hand (power). By doing so, we are in a position to be lifted by Him to cast everything on Him. I mean, He wants our anxiety? Interesting….

So my fresh idea is biblical, leading to a newfound understanding that “Rest” is a life skill we need to learn to implement daily.

Ministers must know that rest is also a life skill—a learned, habitual posture of the soul that responds to God’s invitation to care. It is a discipline, but more than that, it is an intentional way of living. However, this life skill is not merely ethical but also theological and redemptive. In simple terms, it is only possible because of the completed work of Christ.

In Hebrews 4:9-10

“There remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God; for whoever has entered God’s rest has also rested from his works as God did from his.”

Stay with me, now….Rest is not merely a spiritual discipline to be cultivated as often touted, but must be strengthened. Rest is a posture at its core: willing submission without internal emotional resistance to the complete trust in God’s known care. This thought hit me like a Muay Tai elbow. I started connecting the dots. The doctor is responsible for my annual physical exam. The optometrist is responsible for my eye exam. The dentist is responsible for my oral care.

However, I had no idea I was missing this life skill of going to Jesus for His care because I never asked the question: “Who is responsible for my anxiety and heavy burdens?” Why? Maybe I had resistance because I did not know how to trust God with my anxiety. I learned that when we resist rest, we are not simply refusing peace; we are resisting God’s lordship over our time, our anxieties, and ultimately, our souls.

I believe Peter is inviting us into God's presence. I like his language of casting. It’s an action word. When I was in the financial industry years ago, I would train my clients to transfer their risk to financial institutions. There was a risk of dying prematurely, a life-threatening illness, or living too long. I guided them to a plan because all three cost money. It is a willful act of transferring the burden to the care institution of God.

Listen to the invitation of Jesus. It’s the best invite you have ever seen.

Matthew 11:28-30

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

One thing to note: When Jesus says to come, it’s an invitation of peace and rest. At the cross, Jesus declared, “It is finished” (John 19:30). His work secured our peace. I want you to have peace while working to accomplish something with your life. But remember that we do not rest because our work is done. We rest because His work is done.

Almost done…

I discovered that I am not at rest if I am engineering my life. As a driver and planner, I had to make a hard switch to give that part of me to the Lord for His guidance. Managing my whole life became an internal burden as I was always in the future. Of course, I needed rest galore. But was it rest?

Eh…

I call it false rest. We drift into false rest when we withhold submission and attempt to manage life ourselves. This often takes the form of escapism, overachievement, or avoidance. These are nothing but counterfeit expressions that offer temporary relief but ultimately lead to burnout.

Tell your neighbor:

"False rest is peace without presence, relief without trust, and rhythm without redemption.” -Brentley Wright

Scripture is clear: to refuse rest is to refuse trust. As Hebrews warns, “They were not able to enter God’s rest because of unbelief” (Heb. 3:19). Resistance to rest reveals resistance to faith.

Alright, I’m done. Let me close this….

Rest is more than a good habit. It is the renewal outcome of trusting Jesus. If developed as a life skill, it will be both a discipline and a delight. It is a life skill with an eternal garden that cultivates fruit of humility, deep dependence, and roots us in Christ’s finished work.

Rest is not something we find. It is something we receive as Jesus gives it. No one else can or has the capacity.

“Come to me,” Jesus still says, “and I will give you rest.”

Reflect:

• What would “casting your cares” look like in your life today?

Go to Jesus!

-BW

Welcome to Ministerial Life!

“Ministry does not begin in the pulpit. It begins in a born-again transformed committed heart.” - Brentley Wright

Ministerial Life is a journal for those who know that the call to ministry is not merely about what we do but who we are becoming as image bearers of Jesus Christ. This space was born from the conviction that lasting impact flows not from performance but from discipleship formation, character, and the never-ending unseen divine work of becoming a servant before bearing fruit as a shepherd.

Paul’s words in Ephesians 4:1 frame the heartbeat of this journal:

"I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received."

If there is one thing I have learned about God’s calling, it is that there is a life to be lived before the sermon is written, the hand is laid, and the title is accepted. And that life must be formed in Christ, trained by godly faithful believers, shaped by the Church, and integrated into the real world of ministry. That’s why this journal exists.

There are plans to evolve the journal into a bigger resource later. Still, we are committed to building a community with pastors, leaders, and aspiring ministers who live lives that make the gospel believable and the Church stronger.

Why This Journal Matters

We live in an age where platform often outpaces preparation, where charisma can outshine character. And yet, God is still calling ministers to lead—not just with gifting but with integrity while living by faith, not perfection.

Here’s what sets Ministerial Life journal apart:

Christ-Centered

Jesus isn’t just the message—we believe He is the model. Every post aims to deepen our discipleship and center our leadership on the One who called us.

Church-Oriented

Ministry is never a solo act. We exist to build leaders for the Church, not apart from it. The Church is the God-ordained institution that re-aligns, trains, and commissions ministers to the work of our Lord. Our hermeneutic is always on loving, caring, sharing, serving, and leading the local church faithfully and fruitfully.

Practically Integrated

You won’t just find egghead theology here—you’ll find tools and resources. Expect practical frameworks, spiritual rhythms, and leadership habits that translate into everyday ministry life.

The Ministry of Becoming Before Doing

Paul wrote in 1 Timothy 4:16: (My favorite Scripture)

“Watch your life and doctrine closely. Persevere in them, because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearers.”

Quick Observation: Notice the order: life first, then doctrine.

• This journal is about that order.

• It’s about becoming the kind of person whose ministry is sustainable—not because it’s flashy, but because it’s faithful.

• It’s about addressing the internal wars, not just the external battles.

• It’s about encouraging those who may feel overlooked, exhausted, rejected, depressed, or unsure—reminding them that God shapes leaders slowly, deeply, and personally.

What You Can Expect

Ministerial Life will drop content designed to build up your countenance in the calling. For now, count on the following:

• Biblical insights to anchor your leadership in the Word of God. Scripture is sufficient and more than able to anchor our souls.

• Leadership reflections drawn from real ministry experiences, legends of the faith, and my personal life at times.

• Practical tools for missional formation, family cohesion, parenting habits, and non-negotiable soul care.

• Encouragement for those leading from the margins, the trenches, or the front lines.

This isn’t for spectators. It’s for those in the trenches of becoming for the service of God’s people.
If you’re in seminary, on staff, in the field, or just answering the whisper of God’s call—this space is for you.

One More Thought

Ministry is hard. But it’s holy. And Ministerial Life exists to remind you that you’re not alone in the becoming.

So, welcome.
Let’s build lives worthy of the call.

-BW

Photo Credit: AP News

My words will feel insufficient to Californians facing the devastation of wildfires. The loss of homes, memories, friends, family, and permanence is an unexpected pain that cuts deeper than the ocean's depth. I can only imagine, through secondhand information, how your world is burning, but it may feel more like the fire is inside you, threatening to consume the very hope you’ve been clinging to.

I acknowledge this: your weight is heavy, and the “why?” question is real. The tears are real, so let them flow. Yet, even in these raw moments, some truths can anchor us. Truths not to dismiss the pain but to walk through it with strength UNFAZED.

Where is God?

It’s okay to scream and question this moment. There is a psalmist in the bible that modeled this countless times. In Psalm 13:1-2, David cries:

“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?”

Like many of us, David felt forgotten in his suffering. But he didn’t stop there. He asked God his questions rather than question God because he knew something deeper: God is present. I am sure you may be praying and feel that God is nowhere to be found, but I need you to know He is still present, even when it’s impossible to trace Him.

“Faith begins with honesty before God.” - Brentley Wright

If I have learned anything in my journey with God, I know that if all you can do is cry out, “God, where are You?”—then do it. Honest prayers are compounding acts of faith. They open the door for God to meet you, even in the ashes.

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A Little Faith is All You Need

Your faith may feel like you are barely hanging on at this moment. That’s okay. I will keep repeating that it’s okay. Jesus said faith the size of a mustard seed is enough (Matthew 17:20).

Visualize a seed so tiny you can barely see it. That’s all God asks for. I hope you realize that your faith doesn’t have to look bold or unshakable right now. It can look like taking the next step hour by hour, even when terrified, confused, and exhausted.

Finding God in the Ashes

In Isaiah 43:2, God says:

“When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.”

This verse doesn’t promise that we won’t face fires—it reveals that God is with us in them. As you are fighting for your life and the protection of your family, God is working in ways unfathomable to you right now. Scripture reminds us that God is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18). He sees you. He grieves with you. He will lift your head.

“God doesn’t always remove the fire, but He always walks us through it.” - Brentley Wright

The aftermath of a wildfire may feel like nothing is left. Yet the ashes are not the end of the story. Fight for your hope. In Isaiah 61:3, God promises to bring “beauty instead of ashes.” This is not Christian jargon—it is a timeless truth about God. He specializes in rebuilding what looks and is destroyed.

Look for the Grace Moments

As the news updates the world, we understand you are in an overwhelming position, but I encourage you to look for the small grace moments. Here are a few starters:

• The firefighters risking their lives to save homes and people.

• A neighbor lending a hand.

• A friend sending a kind word.

• Rescue and support organizations flying in to meet the pressing need.

• Governmental support.

• Prayers sent from the four corners of the world.

These are glimpses of God’s care breaking through the wildfire chaos.

Don’t Limit Your Prayers

Whisper in your heart to God for what you need. If it’s strength for the next hour, pray for it. You don’t have to muster up heroic prayers. I teach my sons that a simple “God, help me” is enough.

Let’s hold on together.

Of Grace,

-BW

Faith. It’s a word that screams across Scripture, yet its depth often escapes us. In Hebrews 11, often called the “Hall of Faith,” the writer offers a robust case study of lives lived in trust and obedience to God. The appealing factor in this chapter is that it doesn't just define faith; it is a biblical docuseries that explains what faith looks like in action. It reveals a faith that pleases God and transforms lives.

This year, our household has set a simple pursuit: to live “By Faith.” Our foundational scripture prescribes that we should walk by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).

Building upon our journey, Hebrews 11 encourages us to want every decision, action, and step to reflect a conviction of trusting in God’s promises, guidance, and instruction. It reminds us that faith is not only essential but transformative—a call to embrace the unknown with the confidence that God is faithful.

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What Is Faith?

Hebrews 11 opens with a declaration:

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1).

Faith is not merely wishful thinking; it is a confident trust in God’s past promises, even when we don’t see the desired outcome for which we might be praying or currently believing Him for. Faith is the foundation of our relationship with God—a conviction rooted in His character and faithfulness toward us. Without this trust, Hebrews reminds us, “It is impossible to please Him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who seek Him” (Hebrews 11:6).

Faith in Action

A quick note: The author of Hebrews highlights individuals whose lives exemplify faithful habits.

• By Faith - Abel - SACRIFICED

• By Faith - Enoch - PLEASED GOD

• By Faith - Noah - PREPARED & BUILT

• By Faith - Abraham - OBEDIENCE

• By Faith - Sarah - CONCEIVED BY BELIEF

The scriptures reveal that faith has consistent, actionable habits that flow from our relationship with God. Here are a few more notes:

Faith Obeys God’s Call

If you read the passage, you will see Abraham, who “obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going” (Hebrews 11:8).

Obedience to God is required from your faith, even when the destination is unclear. We learn from Abraham because he trusted God’s promises and instruction over his myopic understanding. You and I do not have to know every detail, but we must trust God to lead the way.

Reflection: Is there a step of obedience that God is calling you to take, but you are resistant because you do not see the whole picture?

Faith Sees Beyond the Present

Moses “considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward” (Hebrews 11:26).

Moses did not focus on earthly riches, power, and comfort because his eyes were fixed on a greater reality—God’s eternal promises. I understand this can sound weird, but being able to see beyond your nose is critical for consistent faith in action. Your faith ought to be mature enough to look beyond temporary struggles, knowing that God’s purposes are far more valuable than anything the world offers.

Reflection: Are you living with eternity in mind, or are temporary concerns clouding your faith?

Faith Perseveres Through Trials

Sometimes, you have to read and hear the stories of those who endured incredible suffering:

“They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword. They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated... of whom the world was not worthy” (Hebrews 11:37-38).

Contrary to popular surface-level preached sermons on faith, it’s wise to know that faith pleases God and is steadfast in trials, confident that God’s promises are worth the cost. These individuals understood that their ultimate faith destination was to be in God's glory, allowing them to die with honor during heavy trials.

Reflection: How can you anchor your faith in God during seasons of trial or uncertainty?

The Trusted Example of Faith

The Hall of Faith ultimately points us to the trusted example of faith: Jesus Christ. Hebrews 12:2 exhorts us to fix our eyes on Him:

“...looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Jesus is the patterned son or example of trust and obedience. He endured the cross because He knew the joy of fulfilling the Father’s will. His life, death, and resurrection show us that faith is not just about believing in God but entrusting every part of our lives to Him until He returns. That requires faith.

Reflection: How will your story reflect a faith that pleases God?

Perhaps your faith won’t make headlines, go viral on social media, or be recorded in history books, but it matters to God. So, live out your faith. Know that the same God faithful to Abraham, Moses, Noah, Sarah, Enoch, Abel, and the saints of old is loyal to you.

Live as a person of faith, confident in God’s past promises and steadfast in your belief for future promises. May this year, you believe:

“God is faithful, and His promises are sure.”

Of Grace

-BW

Photo Credit: Triangle Fellowship Church Community

Happy Holidays, my friends!

Has it occurred to you that it is possible that true joy can seem far away? Especially during the holiday season. For many, joy is a distant memory of lost loved ones or current difficult times and pressures. What should we do? Do we go about life as is, or should we dare to do something we have never done to discover joy?

Our church is currently in our Advent series focused on the coming of Christ, our Savior. Each week has been a reminder of the peace, joy, hope, and love Christ brought through his birth. This week, I was privileged to preach to our congregation about Christ fulfilling our joy.

Joy is not to be misconstrued with happiness. External circumstances determine happiness, while joy is intrinsic.

As I work to be an efficient and effective pastor, preacher, and theologian in our context, I hope this will bless you.

I want to thank my church community and the extraordinary trusting leadership to come before the people of God.

I would love your feedback, musings, and personal reflections here! We are in this together!

Before I forget - I am often asked a few questions:

What am I Reading?

• Unfazed by Dr. Tony Warrick (Tony has become one my favorite authors. In this work, he is helping me to fight back through difficult times with the help of the Lord.)

• A Long Obedience in the Same Direction: Discipleship In An Instant Society by Eugene H. Peterson (Spiritual formation or formative practices of the Christian faith pushes us to deeper levels of discipleship. However, it’s a journey. I’ll give more of an update and review later on this work).

• Leading with the Heart, Coach K’s Successful Strategies for Basketball, Business, and Life (Arguably one of the greatest coaches in coaching history. I am learning the discipline to the craft development and dedication to your task.)

What am I Listening to:

• The Grimke Podcast (This is the seminary where I am pursuing theological education and pastoral practitionership. A podcast was recently started, and it has been a blessing).

• Jackson 5 Christmas Album (What more do you want to say?)

Instead of watching TV, I am planning for 2025!

Happy Holidays, my friends!

-BW

Opening Reflection:
Joy often feels like something fleeting, tied to our circumstances—here, one moment, and gone the next. But what if joy isn’t something we chase but something we receive? What if joy is rooted not in what we do but in who Christ is?

Sit still for a moment:
Take a moment.
Close your eyes.
Breathe in deeply—let your fears and anxieties rise.
Breathe out slowly—release your worries.
Hear this truth:

"In Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore." (Psalm 16:11)

A Prayer for Joy:
Jesus, You are the source of my joy,
Not my plans, not my successes,
Not the absence of hardship,
But You.

You came to bring the good news of great joy,
Joy for all people—including me.

When I feel empty, remind me that Your joy is not a feeling, But it’s you.
When my joy feels far, remind me to draw close to You.
I was hoping you could fill me with a fullness of joy that is unshaken.

A Moment to Reflect:
Ask yourself:

• What has been stealing my joy lately?

• How can I reconnect with Christ today?

Marinate on this:
"These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full." (John 15:11)

Your New Declaration of Joy:
Even when life is crazy, joy is absolute. Joy is possible.
Even when the world feels uncertain, joy is steady.
Even when joy feels far, My God is near.

So, here is what I will do. I will abide in You, Jesus.
I will rest in Your love and bear its fruit.
And I will trust in Your promise:
Your joy is my strength.

-B.W

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