Author: Derrick Hurst (Page 5 of 150)

I am husband to Carrie, dad to Matthew, Lucas, and Natalie. I have a desire to see people grow in their relationship with Jesus. My personal mission is to move people forward in their faith life.

When What’s Buried Needs to Come Out

December 17, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Every bourbon drinker knows about the angel’s share, the part that evaporates.
But there’s another part most people don’t think about.

The Devil’s Cut.

That’s the portion of bourbon that gets trapped inside the oak staves of the barrel.
It doesn’t evaporate into the heavens.
It doesn’t pour out with the rest of the spirit.
It sinks deep, hides out, and clings to the wood fibers like it’s got something to prove.

Distillers have to work hard, really hard, to pull it out once the barrel’s emptied.
Steam. Pressure. Water. Time.
They literally have to extract what’s hiding inside.

And once again… bourbon ends up telling the truth about us.

We All Have a Devil’s Cut

We’ve all got parts of our story we don’t talk about.
Old wounds.
Buried insecurities.
Hidden habits.
Unresolved grudges.
Memories we’ve shoved down so deep we’d rather pretend they never happened.

Call it whatever you want trauma, pride, self-protection, “I’m fine.”
But God calls it something else:

Stuff that needs to come out.

Not to shame you.
Not to expose you.
But to heal you.

Because the Devil’s Cut the part trapped deep inside may not be visible… but it still has influence.
It still flavors the spirit.
It still shapes who we’re becoming.

What stays hidden doesn’t stay harmless.

You Can Fake Fine, But You Can’t Fake Healthy

The crazy thing about the Devil’s Cut is this.
You can empty a barrel, polish it, display it proudly in your living room.
But it will still have ounces and ounces of spirit trapped deep inside the staves.

Looks empty.
Isn’t empty.

Looks clean.
Isn’t clean.

Looks finished.
Isn’t finished.

Remind you of anyone?

We’re masters at curating the exterior the good Christian image, the polished reputation, the “strong enough” persona.
But inside?
Deep in the spiritual staves?
There can still be hurt, bitterness, anger, shame, fear, or unforgiveness lurking.

Not evaporated.
Not poured out.
Just trapped.

And if God doesn’t work it out of us, it will eventually work its way through us.

God Steam-Cleans the Soul and It Isn’t Always Comfortable

There’s a reason distillers call it the Devil’s Cut.
It takes force to get it out.
Heat. Pressure. Flooding. Extraction.

Sometimes God applies heat through a hard conversation, a moment of conviction, a season of discomfort.
Sometimes God applies pressure with a challenge we can’t avoid, a weakness we can’t deny, a pattern we can’t hide behind anymore.
Sometimes God floods us with His grace not the soft, fluffy kind, but the kind that goes deep enough to loosen the things we’ve held onto too long.

It’s not God being harsh.
It’s God being holy.
And loving.
And committed to your transformation.

God refuses to leave you with a Devil’s Cut still locked inside you.

Because what’s buried in you eventually bleeds into the people around you – your family, your marriage, your leadership, your faith.

Better to let God extract it now than let the darkness seep out later.

Let God Get to the Deep Stuff

If you’re honest, you already know what your Devil’s Cut is.

That hurt from years ago you don’t want to name.
That insecurity you’ve duct-taped over with accomplishment.
That resentment you tolerate because it feels justified.
That private sin you think you have “under control.”
That pain you don’t want Jesus touching.

But He’s not asking for an apology tour.
He’s asking for access.

To the real stuff.
The deep stuff.
The buried stuff.

The part that needs refining, cleansing, extracting.

Not so He can shame you, but so He can free you.

Because the truth is:

You can’t be fully poured out for God until He brings out what’s been trapped inside you.

So let Him do the work.
Let Him apply the heat.
Let Him press where it hurts.
Let Him draw out what’s been buried.

It’s not punishment.
It’s purification.

And when the Devil’s Cut comes out, you don’t lose yourself you finally get your whole self back.

The Rep You Don’t Want to Do

December 16, 2025 / / 0 Comments

From the series: “What I Learned Between Reps (And Why You Probably Need It Too)”

I want to talk about the rep you hate.
You know the one.
The one where your muscles are screaming, your brain is negotiating, and suddenly your water bottle looks like a fantastic life choice.

Yeah. That rep.

Here’s the truth nobody wants to admit:
That rep is the one that actually changes you.

Not the warmup.
Not the reps that feel smooth.
Not the reps that make you look strong in the mirror.

It’s the ugly one.
The shaky one.
The one where your face contorts into something that belongs in a wildlife documentary.
That’s where growth hides.

I’ve hit those moments more times that I can count. Those “I could stop right here and no one would know” moments. But the problem is, I would know. And so would you because every time you skip the hard rep, you train your brain to settle.

You’re teaching yourself that comfort is more important than progress.

And hear me on this. Comfort is not evil. It’s just sneaky.
Comfort whispers: “You’ve done enough.”
Comfort lies: “This is fine.”
Comfort smiles while you stay exactly the same.

But strength?
Strength doesn’t whisper.
Strength growls.
Strength demands something from you.
Strength shows up when you push past the point your excuses were built to protect.

Here’s the lesson I learned between reps this week:

Your breakthrough is almost always on the other side of the rep you don’t want to do.

Not just in the gym.
It happens in conversations you’ve been avoiding.
In goals you keep rescheduling.
In decisions you keep pretending are not urgent.
In dreams you’ve pushed off because they feel too risky.

Everyone wants transformation.
Almost no one wants the burn that comes with it.

But the burn is the signal.
The burn means you’re in the right place.
The burn means your limits just got punched in the teeth.
And if you stay there even for one more rep you’re already a different person than you were a minute ago.

So here’s your challenge:

Do the rep you don’t want to do. Today. Not later. Not “when things calm down.”

Send the message.
Make the call.
Hit the gym.
Have the hard conversation.
Apply for the thing.
Stop numbing the fear and start confronting it.

Because here’s the secret you only learn under the barbell:
Your limits aren’t walls. They’re invitations.

And you’re tougher than your comfort zone wants you to believe.

From Forgotten to the Front Row

December 15, 2025 / / 0 Comments

When you think about the Christmas story, what do you picture? Maybe the wise men in their fancy robes or maybe the angels singing. But Luke’s Christmas spotlight isn’t on the powerful or the prestigious. It’s on the shepherds.

Shepherds weren’t the VIPs of their day. They were society’s leftovers. They were blue-collar workers, often looked down on, sometimes even considered unreliable or at worst unclean. If this were a modern concert, they’d be the folks stuck way in the nosebleed seats, ignored and forgotten. Yet in the very moment God sent the news of Jesus’ birth, He put those shepherds front and center. God brought the forgotten to the front row.

He did it because God’s kingdom doesn’t run on our human ideas of status and worth. Instead, it flips the script. The overlooked, the marginalized, the quiet and uncelebrated that’s who God chooses to carry His message. And here’s the kicker: God still does this today.

This means that no matter how “forgotten” or overlooked you feel in life, whether at work, in your family, or in your own mind God’s call can find you and put you at the center of something bigger than you ever imagined.

But here’s the challenge: Are we living like the shepherds? Are we embracing the role of being front-row followers? Those who see what others miss? Those who listen when the world is too loud to hear? And who step boldly into the light instead of hiding in the shadows?

Too often, we shrink back. We stay on the sidelines because we think we’re not “enough” not smart enough, not talented enough, not important enough. But the shepherds remind us this is a lie.

God’s invitation is for everyone, especially those who think they don’t belong. The shepherds went from watching sheep in the dark fields to being the very first to hear the best news in history. And they didn’t keep it to themselves. They ran to tell others. They became the original front-line messengers.

In our lives, this means stepping off of the sidelines of comfort and fear. It means taking risks to speak up, to show kindness where it’s unexpected, to bring hope to places it’s missing. It means lifting others who feel forgotten and making room for them to sit at the front with us.

This Christmas story isn’t just about a baby born long ago. It’s a call for us today to live boldly, to trust that God sees us even when the world doesn’t, and to be the kind of people who bring others from the back row into the spotlight of grace and love.

A final coaching question for you:
Where in your life are you choosing to sit in the back row? What would it look like to step into the front row and live like the shepherds bold, unafraid, and ready to share the good news?

Frozen Chicken Waterers & Faithfulness

December 12, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Sometimes it’s about showing up in the hard moments of Advent.

There’s nothing quite like the sound of cracking ice out of a chicken waterer at 5:15 a.m. in December to remind you that life isn’t always inspirational.

The sun isn’t up.
The wind is disrespectfully strong.
Your gloves are never as warm as the advertisement promises.
And the chickens, God bless them, stare at you like you caused winter.

This is the part of acreage living nobody puts on Instagram.
This is the part of ministry no one writes worship songs about.
This is the part of December that Hallmark keeps pretending doesn’t exist.

But here’s the undeniable truth: Faithfulness rarely feels glamorous. Most days it looks like freezing fingers, stubborn chores, and showing up anyway.

While I’m kicking an ice block out of a bucket before the first cup of coffee, Advent hits me with another lesson:

God didn’t wait for ideal conditions to show up. So I can’t either?

He came when the world was cold.
He came when the night was long.
He came when the people were tired, worn, frustrated, waiting, fed up, and spiritually frozen.

He came into the mess not after the mess cleaned itself up.

That little water bucket in the coop preaches the Gospel better than half the sermons I write:

Faithfulness is doing what’s needed even when it’s inconvenient, unseen, and uncelebrated.

Advent reminds me that God Himself is faithful in the same way. Not flashy. Not loud. Not waiting for me to be impressive.

Just showing up. Every day. Every moment. Every season.

Jesus didn’t come because the world finally got it together. He came because we couldn’t.

And He kept showing up…
in Nazareth,
in the wilderness,
in people’s pain,
in their questioning,
in the overlooked corners of life.

If God can show up in a manger, He can show up in my frozen chicken coop. He can show up in your stress-filled December. He can show up in worship number three of the week. He can show up when the schedule is too full, the emotions are thin, and the to-do list is laughing at you.

So here’s the heart of Advent Week 2:

Advent faith isn’t built in warm moments. It’s built in cold mornings.
It’s built when you show up even when you don’t feel like it.
It’s built in small, faithful steps that nobody sees but God.

The chickens never say thank you. Life doesn’t always say thank you. Ministry certainly doesn’t always say thank you.

But faithfulness was never about applause. It’s about presence.

God’s presence with us. Our presence in the small things. His steady love. Our steady steps.

Even if those steps involve a frozen chicken waterer and breath you can see in the air.

Advent continues one cold morning at a time. And yep…God is still faithful.

The Angel’s Share

December 10, 2025 / / 0 Comments

If you’ve spent any time around bourbon, you know the distillers have a strange way of talking about loss.

You see every year a portion of the aging bourbon evaporates through the barrel.

Nope. It’s not spilled. Not wasted. Not mismanaged. Just… gone.

They call it the angel’s share. That phrase has to be read in a deep and mysterious kind of voice by the way.

I remember the first time I heard that term. I thought, Only the bourbon world could romanticize losing product and actually celebrate it.

But the longer I sit with this idea. And frankly the longer I sit with life, the more I realize they’re actually onto something spiritual.

The Loss No One Likes… but Everyone Needs

The angel’s share can take 2–5% of the barrel every single year. Yeah! That adds up fast.

Imagine running a business where a chunk of your inventory literally disappears into the air and you just shrug and smile.

But distillers understand something we often forget: If the bourbon isn’t evaporating, it isn’t maturing.

The loss is a sign that transformation is happening deep inside the wood. Something slow, hidden, and impossible to reverse.

You don’t get complex, rich bourbon without the angel’s share. And you don’t get deep, resilient faith without losing some of yourself along the way.

The Parts of Life You Think You’re Losing…May Be Exactly What God Is Using

Friends, here’s the part no one likes to say out loud:

Some of the losses you grieve were never meant to stay with you.
Some dreams needed to evaporate.
Some plans had to leave the barrel of your life so something stronger, wiser, and more Christlike could form in their place.

We don’t think that way, at least not naturally. We see loss as failure. We see change as disruption. We see evaporation as a problem to fix.

But in the hands of God? Loss becomes formation. Surrender becomes strength. Letting go becomes freedom. And the things that slip through the cracks may very well be the things that were holding you back.

What evaporates is not always what’s essential. Sometimes it’s what’s excess.

Distillers don’t panic when the angel’s share takes its portion. They expect it. They plan for it. They even build their warehouses knowing that warm summers mean more loss and more flavor.

Loss is built into the process.

When was the last time you saw your life that way?

Instead of saying, “Why is this happening to me?”
What if the question became, “Lord, what are You forming in me through this?”

Instead of asking, “Why did I lose that opportunity?”
What if the real question is, “What space is this creating for the next one?”

Instead of gripping tightly to the past, maybe we ask, “What are You freeing me from so I can grow into who You’re calling me to be?”

The angel’s share reminds us that maturity always costs something.

Let the Right Things Evaporate

Sometimes we need to let expectations evaporate. Or our need to control everything. Or our obsession with certainty. Or the pressure to be everything to everyone.

And sometimes we need to let old versions of ourselves fade, so Christ can form something new, something deeper inside us.

Don’t fear what God removes. Fear only the things you cling to that keep you from becoming who you were called to be.

A bourbon that never loses anything never gains anything. And neither do we.

So here’s the invitation: Trust the process. Trust the loss. Trust the God who knows exactly what needs to evaporate so your life can mature.

The angel’s share isn’t stealing from you.
It’s shaping you.

Stop Waiting. Start Showing Up.

December 9, 2025 / / 1 Comment

From the series: “What I Learned Between Reps (And Why You Probably Need It Too)”

If you’ve ever struggled to put those feet on the floor early in the morning, you know what I’m about to say. If you made that New Year’s resolution only to walk away from it by mid February, then you’ve felt this same thing.

Motivation is a liar.

It shows up when it wants, leaves when it wants, and it never texts you back.

Routine? Routine is a completely different animal. It’s not sexy, it’s not inspirational, and it doesn’t care how you feel at 5 a.m. But routine is the quiet beast that actually builds your life.

I forgot that until I walked into Fit One Four, the new gym I joined this week.

It’s small. Raw. No hiding behind crowds. No room for ego. Just you, the weights, and the truth. And if you haven’t stepped into a new gym in a while, let me tell you… that first day feels like dropping into a cold lake. Shocking. Energizing. Exposing. But man it wakes you up.

And here’s the first lesson I relearned between reps:

Show up before you feel ready. Always.

Your body won’t change if you keep waiting for a perfect moment.
Your mind won’t reset if you keep negotiating with yourself.
Your life won’t level up if you keep telling the same old story about “someday.”

The weights don’t care about your excuses.
They don’t care about your past.
They don’t care about your comfort.

But they will respond to your consistency.

And that’s the point not just in fitness, but everywhere.
Want more clarity? Show up.
Want deeper relationships? Show up.
Want to grow as a leader? Show up.
Want to stop feeling stuck? Show up.

Not tomorrow. Not next Monday. Not when the stars align.

Now. Today. Before you feel ready.

Every rep in that gym is a reminder that the smallest act of discipline beats the biggest burst of inspiration. Because inspiration fades fast. But discipline compounds.

And here’s the wild part. They talk about gains at the gym, but the real gains start long before anything shows up on your body. They start in your resolve. Your grit. Your willingness to be uncomfortable again and again.

You don’t need a whole new plan.
You don’t need a new mindset podcast.
You just need to walk through the door and do the work.

That’s it.

So if you’re reading this and waiting for a sign to get moving. This is your sign.

Don’t wait for motivation.

Be the person who shows up anyway.

That’s the power of the first rep.
That’s the start of strength.
And that’s only Week 1.

The Quiet Field

December 5, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Finding Stillness on Acres in Advent

There’s a kind of silence that you only get on thirteen acres in early December.

It isn’t peaceful in one of those “spa with music and scented candles” kind of way. Not that I’d find that peaceful anyway!

It’s peaceful in the “everything is frozen and refusing to move” kind of way.

The grass is brittle. The garden is dead. The mud is solid. The trees creak like old bones every time the wind pushes through. Even the chickens give me that look that says “really… you came out here for this?”

And honestly? I feel the same way.

December doesn’t ask permission before it steamrolls you. It shows up with a clipboard full of expectations:
Christmas programs.
Three worship services every week.
Sermons.
Meetings.
Family plans.
Shopping.
School programs.
Year-end everything.

The month demands so much noise from me… while the land around me goes completely quiet.

And that’s the first gut-punch lesson Advent always hands me: The world gets loud, but God often whispers.

You’d think the “holy season” would feel holy. But Advent rarely starts that way for me. It usually starts with me trying to figure out how to beat the sun to the chicken coop, how to not slip on the icy slope behind the barn, and how in the world I’m going to get everything done before the 24th.

But out there on that cold, stubborn ground I’m reminded that God does His best work in the quiet places.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”  Psalm 46:10 (ESV)

Be still?
In December?
Sure, God. Let me just pencil that in between “fix frozen coop door” and “write sermon number three for the week.”

But that’s exactly the point. Stillness isn’t what happens when everything calms down. Stillness is what happens when I stop pretending I can carry everything myself.

The fields don’t fight the season. The garden doesn’t resist the freeze. The trees don’t argue their way out of winter. They simply… stop. Rest. Wait.

Advent is the Church’s way of reminding us: You can’t force fruit in winter. But you can prepare your heart for the Light that’s about to break in.

So this week, here’s my Advent invitation not just to you, but to myself:

Step into the quiet field, even if it’s only for five minutes.

Bundled up. Breath in the cold air. Let the noise fall off you. Let your soul settle for a moment so you can hear the whisper again.

Because while the world is screaming for more, God is quietly preparing to give us what we could never give ourselves:

A Savior.
A Light in the long night.
Hope wrapped in flesh.

Out here on the acreage, Advent begins with a frozen field and a quiet whisper. And honestly? That’s enough.

It’s Not About Getting Over It, It’s About Moving Forward With Hope

December 4, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Grief is a beast that doesn’t play fair. It doesn’t show up on a schedule or follow a timeline even though you’d wish it would. Some people carry it quietly for years while others face a storm so fierce it shakes every part of their soul in days. And that’s okay. Everyone travels grief at their own pace, with their own pain.

There’s no “normal” when it comes to loss. No checklist or rulebook. You can’t rush it, hide from it, or power through it like a mountain to be conquered. Grief isn’t a problem to fix; it’s a journey to walk sometimes stumbling, sometimes crawling, sometimes walking with surprising strength.

The point isn’t to just “get over it.” The point isn’t to pretend the loss never happened or shove it deep down where no one can see. The point is to keep walking, even when every step feels heavy, every breath feels sharp, and every memory cuts like a knife.

Hope is what carries us through. It’s not a vague, feel-good sentiment, but a deep, unshakable hope rooted in the promise that loss isn’t the end. That one day, healing will come in ways we can’t imagine right now. That light breaks through even the darkest of nights.

The Bible reminds us in Psalm 34:18 (ESV): “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” You may feel crushed, shattered, or lost but you are not alone. God is near, holding you close through every tear and every step.

You don’t have to have it all together. You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to cry, to rage, to feel lost. It’s even okay to be pissed off at God. But don’t stop moving forward.

Lean into hope. Let it hold you when the weight is too much. Reach out to someone a friend, a counselor, a community because grief was never meant to be carried alone.

If you’re walking through grief today, this is your call: Keep going. Take one more step. Hold on to hope. You’re not alone, and healing is possible even when it feels impossible.

The Barrel Matters

December 3, 2025 / / 1 Comment

You can tell a lot about a bourbon long before you ever pop the cork. Not by its label. Not by the hype. Not even by its age.

If you really want to know what a bourbon is becoming, you’ve got to look at the barrel.

Ask any distiller and they’ll tell you the same truth every time. Up to 70% of a bourbon’s flavor comes from the barrel it rests in.

The wood. The char. The warehouse. The seasons. The environment shapes the spirit.

And sitting with a glass the other night, it hit me: It’s the same with you and me.

You Become Whatever You Soak In

Bourbon doesn’t get to choose its barrel, but you and I often do.

We decide what environments we rest our souls in. We choose what voices we let season our thinking. We choose the habits that fill our time. The people we run with. The rhythms we tolerate. And the noise we allow to flood our heads.

And then we’re shocked when the final product of our life tastes a little… off.

Look. If you spend your days soaking in anxiety, outrage, endless scrolling, and the opinions of people who don’t actually know you, then your spirit will reflect that. If you surround yourself with cynics, don’t be surprised when your joy feels watered down. If your faith is marinating in hurry, distraction, and an inch-deep spirituality, don’t wonder why you feel spiritually thin.

Your barrel shapes your spirit. Every single time.

Here’s the wild thing about bourbon barrels. They don’t just hold the bourbon. They actually transform it.

Over time the liquid pulls flavors out of the wood. The bourbon slowly takes on its color, its warmth, its depth. It becomes like whatever it rests in.

Your soul works the same way.

Spend enough time around people who love Jesus, who call out the best in you, who pray for you, who challenge you, who remind you who you are and you’ll notice your own character start to deepen.

Your thinking gets clearer. Your reactions get slower. Your compassion grows. Your faith gets steadier.

Spend enough time in Scripture, prayer, worship, and simple, quiet obedience and you’ll start tasting like the fruit of the Spirit.

You don’t become like Jesus by trying harder. You become like Jesus by staying close.

Just like bourbon in the right barrel, transformation happens through proximity, not pressure.

Check Your Barrels

Maybe the most spiritual thing some of us could do this week isn’t reading another book or listening to another podcast or heck even skimming the latest blog from our pastor. Maybe it’s doing a little inventory of the barrels we’re sitting in.

So sip on these things.

  • Who’s shaping you?
  • What are you soaking in?
  • What environment is slowly, silently forming your character?

If the answer is “I’m not really sure,” then you might already have your answer.

Friends, faith doesn’t grow in a vacuum. It grows in an environment.

And here’s the good news. You get to choose yours.

Choose the barrel that brings out the best in you.
Choose the people who speak life, not drama.
Choose the rhythms that draw you closer to Christ, not further into chaos.
Choose the habits that deepen your soul rather than drain it.

Because at the end of the day, everybody matures into something. The question is simply: What are you becoming like?

So here’s your bourbon-fueled reminder for the week: Bourbon becomes what it rests in, and so do you.

Choose your barrel wisely.

When the Toughest Choices Are the Only Right Ones

December 2, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Hard truth – Life isn’t about the easy road. Sometimes, the thing you don’t want to do – the move, the job change, the painful goodbye is exactly the thing you have to do. There’s just no sugarcoating it.

Maybe it’s walking away from a dream you built with vast amounts of your own sweat and tears. Closing the business you poured your heart into. Selling the church property that once felt like home to make way for a new ministry that’s more alive.

It sucks. It hurts. It feels like betrayal. But guess what? Sometimes the hardest things are the right things.

If you’re waiting for clarity, it might come wrapped in heartbreak. If you’re hoping for peace, it might arrive after the storm hits hardest. The hard choices? They strip you down, shake you up, and break you open to something new which is often something better.

Jesus didn’t promise comfort. He promised transformation. The path to growth is littered with tough calls and goodbye tears. The right thing rarely feels easy or convenient. It often feels like the end of everything you know.

But that’s exactly why it’s right.

So stop waiting. Stop running. Do the hard thing. Because on the other side of pain is power. On the other side of loss is life.

And if you don’t do it? You’re stuck. Stuck in yesterday’s story. Stuck in a life that’s smaller than what God has for you.

Do the hard thing. Do it bold. Do it now.

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