Category: Leadership (Page 3 of 24)

3 Life Lessons I Learned on Vacation

August 19, 2025 / / 1 Comment

Vacations are supposed to be about rest and fun, but they have a funny way of teaching you life lessons, too. On my recent getaway, God reminded me of a few things, some lighthearted and some challenging, that I think are worth sharing.

1. There’s always someone less fit than you, so stop hiding from the sun.
It’s easy to get self-conscious at the pool or the beach. But here’s the truth: there’s always going to be someone in worse shape than you and someone in better shape than you. The key? Don’t let insecurity steal your joy. Be grateful for the body God’s given you, flaws and all. Try to just enjoy the moment. Psalm 139:14 reminds us, “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” That truth doesn’t take a vacation.

2. Be content, but never complacent.
I noticed something while on vacation: there are always people who can do more than you…and people who can do less. That’s life. Instead of comparing yourself, focus on growing. Be content with where God has you, but also push yourself to be stronger, wiser, and more faithful than you were yesterday. Philippians 4:11 says, “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content,” but contentment doesn’t mean laziness. It means gratitude in motion.

3. Memories last longer than money.
This one is hard for me. I tend to want to be wise and careful with money (and we should be by the way), but God reminded me that while money comes and goes, memories are what we carry to the grave. The laughter over a shared meal, the sunset you watched with someone you love, the silly inside jokes – those are treasures no bank account can hold. Jesus even said in Matthew 6:20, “Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven.” Sometimes those treasures are the moments we make with the people we love.

Vacations end, the tan fades, the suitcase gets unpacked…but the lessons stick with you. And maybe, just maybe, the best souvenirs aren’t things you buy. They’re truths you carry home in your heart.

Grace Is the Antidote

August 4, 2025 / / 0 Comments

(Part 4 of 4 in the “Performing or Belonging?” series)

Here’s the truth we keep forgetting: Grace breaks the performance cycle.
Not self-help. Not good vibes. Not “trying harder.”
Grace.

You can’t earn it. You don’t deserve it. And you can’t fake your way into it.

That’s why it changes everything.

Because for all our pretending, performing, curating, and impressing we’re still empty. Approval from others can’t fill the ache inside. Belonging built on performance is not real. You know it. I know it. We’ve lived it.

We’ve dressed up our shame in Sunday clothes. We’ve spiritualized burnout. We’ve convinced ourselves that if we do just a little more, serve a little harder, believe a little stronger, maybe then we’ll be enough.

But grace doesn’t play that game.

Grace doesn’t need your résumé.
Grace doesn’t require a filter.
Grace doesn’t say, “Clean yourself up first.”

Grace walks into the mess, locks eyes with you, and says, “You’re loved. Right now. As is.”

If that doesn’t make you uncomfortable, you’re not hearing it right.

Because deep down, we think we have to earn it. We want to earn it. It would feel safer, more predictable. But grace doesn’t reward the impressive, it rescues the desperate.

Jesus didn’t die for your performance. He died for you.

Not the cleaned-up version. Not the leader you pretend to be. Not the parent you wish you were. You. The real you. The you as you are. Warts and all.

The cross is proof that God knows the real you and still chooses you. The resurrection is proof that He didn’t just forgive your past. He’s giving you a whole new way to live.

So breathe.

You don’t have to perform anymore.
You don’t have to hustle for love.
You don’t have to keep pretending that everything’s fine.

Grace means you can finally be honest.
Grace means you can finally rest.
Grace means you can finally belong.

And now? Now we build from that place.

Not out of fear but freedom.
Not to earn love but because we already have it.
Not to impress but to invite others into this same grace-drenched reality.

This is the final part of our Performing or Belonging? series.

We’ve called out the exhaustion of faking it.
We’ve faced our addiction to approval.
We’ve named our deep hunger to truly belong.
And now we end where real life begins: grace.

Not cheap grace. Not watered-down theology.
But the gritty, costly, cross-shaped grace that dismantles our illusions and sets us free.

So here’s your call:
Take off the mask.
Kill the performance.
Step into the grace that says, “You are mine.”

It’s time to stop striving.
It’s time to belong.

We’re Starving for Something Real

July 28, 2025 / / 0 Comments

(Part 3 of 4 in the “Performing or Belonging?” series)

We were made for connection.
Not Wi-Fi. Not group texts. Not “likes.”
Real connection. The kind where someone sees you, hears you, and stays.

But let’s be honest: that’s rare. And that rarity is saddening.

Most of us walk through life surrounded by people but are suffocating from loneliness. We go to parties, small groups, even worship services and still feel like nobody really knows us. We crack a joke, scroll some memes, post a photo, and call it “community.” But deep down, we know we’re starving.

Starving for real conversations.
Starving for safe places.
Starving for the kind of love that doesn’t flinch when we get honest.

Why? Because we’re wired for belonging. It’s not a wish or a pipe dream. It’s built into our soul.

God said, “It is not good for man to be alone.” And He wasn’t just talking about marriage. He was naming a core human need: to be seen and embraced in the context of relationship. Being alone was the first not good thing mentioned in the Bible.

But somewhere along the way, we stopped believing that was possible. So we settled.

We settled for surface-level friendships.
We settled for performative “community” where image matters more than honesty.
We settled for churches where connection ends at the door and vulnerability never makes it past the welcome team.

And that’s not just sad. It’s dangerous.

Because when we don’t belong, we break. Not all at once. Slowly, over time.
We isolate. We numb. We drift. We start thinking something’s wrong with us when really, the problem is we’ve been faking intimacy in systems built for applause, not authenticity.

And the church has sometimes made it worse.

We’ve taught people how to serve before teaching them how to connect.
We’ve emphasized theology without embodying hospitality.
We’ve built programs but neglected people.

But there’s good news: belonging is still possible.
Because Jesus didn’t just save souls. He built a family.
He took tax collectors and zealots, doubters and sinners, introverts and loudmouths, and said, “You’re mine. You belong.”

And if there’s one place in the world where masks should come off and stories should get told, it should be the church.

Not a church full of shiny people pretending everything’s fine.
A church full of real people with real baggage and real grace.
A church where someone says, “I’ve been through hell,” and the reply isn’t silence, it’s “You’re not alone.”

That’s the kind of community the world is longing for.
Not another event. Not another doctrinally packed sermon.
A place to belong before you believe, behave, or have it all figured out.

So here’s the question: Are we brave enough to build it?

Not perfectly. Not instantly. But intentionally.
With small steps, awkward moments, honest stories, and persistent love.

This post is Part 3 of 4 in the Performing or Belonging? series.
Next week we’ll dive into: “Grace Is the Antidote” discovering how Jesus dismantles our need to perform and gives us a better way to live, love, and build something real.

You don’t have to settle for shallow.
You were made for more.
Let’s stop pretending. Let’s build belonging.

When Approval Becomes a Drug

July 21, 2025 / / 0 Comments

(Part 2 of 4 in the “Performing or Belonging?” series)

Let’s be honest, most of us are addicted to approval.

We don’t call it that. We call it being “driven,” “motivated,” “on our game.” But underneath the hustle is a hunger: Please notice me. Please like me. Please tell me I’m enough.

And if you think that’s not you, ask yourself this:

  • Why did you rewrite that text three times before sending it?
  • Why did you say yes when everything in you wanted to say no?
  • Why did that one piece of criticism stick in your head for a week straight?

We perform because we’re afraid.
Afraid of not measuring up. Afraid of being forgotten. Afraid that if we stop doing, we’ll stop mattering.

This world teaches us that worth is earned. That people only love winners. That image is everything. And that grind? It sneaks into every part of life including the church.

Somewhere along the line, we confused Christian faith with Christian performance. “Be a better spouse. Be a better parent. Read more Bible. Serve more. Smile while you do it.” It starts to feel less like grace and more like a spiritual rat race.

And people are tired of it? They are leaving the church over it. Not because they’re rejecting Jesus, but because they’re drowning in pressure they think He put on them.

But He didn’t.

Jesus didn’t say, “Come to me, all you who are killing it and crushing your goals.”
He said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28, ESV)

Rest. Not reward for achievement. Not applause. Not another list of tasks. Rest. The kind that sinks deep into your bones and tells your soul, “You can stop performing. You’re already loved.”

That’s the gospel. And it is absolutely scandalous.

Because it means that the addict doesn’t have to hide.
The burned-out mom doesn’t have to fake it.
The guy battling depression doesn’t need to pretend he’s fine.
The believer with questions doesn’t need to perform certainty.

God doesn’t love the cleaned-up version of you. He loves the real you. The messy, insecure, unfinished, struggling version.

When we chase approval, we end up exhausted and empty. But when we root ourselves in grace, something radical happens. We start living from love, not for it.

And that changes everything.

You don’t have to prove your value. You don’t have to earn your belonging. You don’t have to perform your way into community. Not here. Not with Jesus.

Let’s call it what it is: performing is easier than being real, but it’s a prison.
It gives quick hits of affirmation and long stretches of isolation.

But belonging? That’s the long road to freedom. It’s messy, vulnerable, and sacred. And it’s worth every ounce of the effort.

This is Part 2 of 4 in our series on Performing or Belonging?
Next up: “The Longing to Belong” because every one of us is wired to be fully known and fully loved. And it’s time to stop settling for shallow substitutes.

Why Everyone’s Tired of Faking It

July 14, 2025 / / 0 Comments

(Part 1 of 4 in the “Performing or Belonging?” series)

It often goes without saying – we’re exhausted.

Not from work. Not from parenting. Not from the latest crisis-of-the-week. So many people exhausted from pretending.

Smiling when we’re breaking. Posting like we’re thriving. Walking into rooms, churches included, wondering if we’re being judged for not having it all together.

We’ve been trained to perform. Perform at school. Perform at work. Perform in our friendships. Even perform at church. And somewhere along the way, we got the twisted idea that love, acceptance, and community were things we earn by being impressive.

But here’s the truth: Performance-based belonging is killing us. Slowly, quietly, spiritually.

You feel it, don’t you?

That subtle anxiety before walking into a room, wondering if you’ll be enough. That instinct to sanitize your story before telling it. That inner voice whispering, “Don’t let them see the real you. They couldn’t handle it.”

And the wild part? We’ve made this normal! We celebrate “being polished.” We admire the curated feed. We’ve confused authenticity with oversharing and vulnerability with weakness. But deep down, we all want the same thing: to be known and still loved. No mask. No pretense.

But we’ve bought into the lie that if we’re real, we’ll be rejected. So we keep performing. Keep managing our image. Keep walking into spaces like churches, friendships, even family dinners and thinking, “Don’t screw this up. Be who they want you to be.”

Let’s call it what it is: fake community. It’s shallow, it’s exhausting, and it’s not what God designed us for.

Want to know the truth? You were never meant to perform for love. You were made to belong in it. Real belonging doesn’t ask you to audition. It doesn’t hand you a mask. Real belonging walks into your mess and says, “Yeah, I see it. I still choose you.”

That’s what Jesus does.

No pretense. No filter. He doesn’t wait for you to clean yourself up. He doesn’t bless the fake version of you. He meets the real you tired, broken, guarded and offers something this world can’t: grace.

And if grace is real, then performance can die.

It’s time to stop faking it. It’s time to stop trying to impress people we don’t trust to love us. It’s time to build something better. It’s time for real relationships, real community, where masks aren’t needed and performance isn’t currency.

That kind of community doesn’t happen by accident. It takes guts. It takes honesty. And even a little faith. But I believe it’s possible. And if I’m being honest, I believe the church should lead the way.

Not with cheesy slogans. Not with religious guilt trips. But with raw stories, open doors, and the kind of love that says, “You don’t have to pretend here.”

If you’re tired of performing – then good. That’s the first step to finding something real.

This is Part 1 of 4 in a series exploring the tension between performing and belonging. Next up: The Pressure to Perform and why we chase approval like our lives depend on it (because for many of us, it feels like they do).

Let’s stop performing. Let’s start belonging.

“This Flag Still Stands for Freedom”

July 1, 2025 / / 0 Comments

There’s an American flag flying outside my home, and it doesn’t just go up for holidays. It’s there most every day, through wind, rain, snow, and sun. It flies for the men and the women who stand for me. It flies for my family, my cousins, my grandfather, my brother, and even my son – who have all served this country in one branch of the military or another. And it flies for the ideals that make this nation worth defending: liberty, responsibility, faith, and the freedom to live without fear of tyranny, either foreign or domestic.

The Fourth of July means something to me. It always has. But in recent years, I’ve noticed a shift. The cookouts and fireworks are still there, but so are the protests and hashtags and rallies with slogans like “No Kings” and “Eat the Rich.” It’s as if some folks think July 4 is just about throwing off authority and making noise.

But that’s not what this holiday is about. At least it shouldn’t be.

The Fourth of July is about building something, not just tearing something down. It’s about declaring that people can govern themselves, that our rights come from God and not the government. It’s about vision, courage, and commitment. The men who signed the Declaration of Independence weren’t just rebels. They were founders. They weren’t looking to replace one tyrant with another. They were standing for something better. Something higher. A system rooted in law, liberty, and the recognition that freedom is fragile but worth fighting for.

That’s why the flag matters so much. It’s not just a decoration or a photo-op. It represents the blood, sweat, and sacrifice of generations who believed that freedom isn’t free. That includes the men and women in my family who answered the call to serve. Those who’ve stood and still stand watch for this country every day.

When I look at that flag, I don’t see perfection. I see perseverance. I see a country that’s struggled, stumbled, and sacrificed, but always come back stronger. I see the First Amendment, the right to speak freely even when we disagree. I see the Second Amendment, the right to defend ourselves and our families because liberty must be guarded.

Freedom is not a trend. It’s not a talking point. It’s a way of life. It’s what makes America different from every other nation on earth. It’s why we defend our borders, protect our Constitution, and take pride in our national identity.

I love this country. I’m not embarrassed to say that. I won’t apologize for standing for the flag, teaching my kids to respect it, and raising them to understand that liberty is a gift and a responsibility. You can disagree with policy, criticize leaders, and demand justice that’s part of the beauty of this nation but don’t mistake liberty for lawlessness. Don’t turn the Fourth of July into just another excuse to gripe.

Because this country still stands for something.

So this Independence Day, while I’m grilling with family and sending projectiles vertically and horizontally, I’ll be thinking about what it means to live in a place where freedom still has a home. I’ll be praying for our leaders, for our troops, and for a nation that remembers who we are and what we’ve been blessed with.

Let’s teach our kids the truth about this day not that we just broke away from something, but that we stood for something. And we still do.

Happy Fourth of July. God bless America. Let freedom ring.

We Forgot How to Talk to Each Other

June 17, 2025 / / 1 Comment

Have you noticed it?

How quickly everything turns into a fight.
How often people talk past each other instead of to each other.
How even simple conversations feel like walking through a minefield.

We’re surrounded by noise, not connection.
By opinions, not understanding.
By constant talking, but not much listening.

It’s not just politics or big debates either. It’s in family group chats. School pickup lines. Online threads. Holiday dinners. We’ve forgotten how to talk to each other like human beings instead of headlines.

And here’s the scary part: When we stop listening, we stop seeing each other. And when we stop seeing each other, we lose our capacity for compassion.

But it doesn’t have to stay this way.

What if the way forward isn’t about winning arguments but rebuilding conversations?

1. Get curious, not combative.

When someone says something you don’t understand or disagree with, try this: “Tell me more about that.” Not everything needs a rebuttal. Sometimes people just need to be heard. And sometimes you don’t know the whole story, so ask more assume less.

2. Lead with stories, not stats.

Arguments rarely change hearts, but stories can. Share your experience. Listen to theirs. You don’t have to agree to connect.

3. Assume complexity.

Most people are carrying more than they show. Don’t reduce someone to a label, category, or soundbite. You’d want the same grace. Maybe there’s more to the situation than you realize.

4. Stay offline when it matters.

Social media is not the best place for nuanced conversations. If it’s important, have it face-to-face or voice-to-voice. Real tone. Real eyes. Real humanity. So much of communication is nonverbal, so don’t have hard conversations that could be taken wrong in a venue that doesn’t communicate nonverbally.

5. Choose connection over being right.

You can “win” an argument and lose a relationship. That doesn’t mean you compromise truth, but it does mean you prioritize love. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can say is, “I’m still here, even if we don’t agree.”

You don’t have to shout louder to be heard.
You don’t have to prove your point to prove your worth.

We need people who know how to talk and even more, how to listen.
People who bring light, not heat.
People who choose dignity over division.

Let’s be those people. And it won’t hurt if we start today.

You don’t need all the answers just an open heart and a willingness to stay in the conversation.

You Don’t Have to Do It All

June 10, 2025 / / 1 Comment

We live in a world that subtly, and not so subtly, says the same thing over and over:
You should be doing more.

Work more. Be more involved. Cook from scratch. Get ahead. Stay informed. Stay fit. Stay positive. Stay available.

And if you’re tired? That’s just proof you need better habits. Or a better planner. Or a better version of you.

But maybe that voice is wrong.

Because here’s the truth most of us need to hear on repeat: You don’t have to do it all.

You are not required to carry every need, fix every problem, attend every event, or please every person. Your worth is not measured by your output. And your value isn’t proven by your exhaustion.

The badge of burnout is not a badge of honor. It’s a warning sign. And maybe it’s time to pay attention.

So how do we live in a world of MORE without losing ourselves?

1. Drop the invisible expectations.

Whose standards are you living by? Take five minutes and list the expectations that weigh you down. Then cross out anything that’s not life-giving, sustainable, or aligned with your actual purpose or calling.

2. Choose your “yes” on purpose.

You can’t say yes to everything, so say yes to what matters most. Protect time for people and priorities that bring peace, not pressure.

3. Practice saying “not right now.”

You don’t have to say no forever but you can say not this season. Saying no to one thing is often the only way to say yes to what really counts. Every yes to one thing is a no to something else. Choose your yes carefully.

4. Rest without guilt.

Rest is not laziness. It’s resistance to the idea that your value is tied to your productivity. Take a nap. Read for fun. Watch the sunset. And don’t apologize for needing to take a break.

5. Accept help before you break.

You were never meant to carry everything alone. Ask for support. Say, “I can’t do this right now.” Let someone step in. That’s not weakness. It’s wisdom.

Doing less doesn’t mean you care less.
It just means you’re human, and you’re finally living like it.

So take a breath. Let something drop. Give yourself permission to be a person, not a machine.

You don’t have to do it all.

You just have to do the next right thing, with heart.

Grace over grind, every single time.

More “?” Than “.”

June 6, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Let’s talk about punctuation.

Yeah, that’s right punctuation.

No this is not grammar class. It’s not middle school English. I have no right to teach anyone about proper grammar – just ask my wife!

I’m talking about the way we speak to each other in real life. And if we’re honest, most of us are walking around throwing out periods like we’re dropping final judgments from the throne of Mount Know-It-All.

“She’s just lazy.”
“He never listens.”
“They’re obviously lying.”
“She meant to hurt me.”

Period. Drop mic. End of sentence. End of conversation. End of understanding.

But what if we traded some of those “.” for “?”
What if we stopped acting like we knew and started wondering again?
What if we paused long enough to ask before we assumed?

Lean in so you hear this fully: When we stop asking questions, we start making enemies out of people who might just need a little grace.

Look, I get it. You’re tired. You’ve been burned. You’ve been lied to, ghosted, manipulated, even taken for granted. So now, instead of wondering why someone did what they did, you just decide why! Then it’s all wrath. It’s time to punish them accordingly.

But here’s the problem: your story might be wrong. And now you’ve built a whole emotional prison based on a bad guess. It’s like the old adage about don’t assume.

Maybe she didn’t text back because her dad’s in the hospital.
Maybe he didn’t show up because he’s drowning in shame.
Maybe they didn’t invite you because they assumed you were busy, not because they hate you.

But you didn’t ask, did you? You just wrote the script, cast them as the villain, and hit “Publish” in your mind.

We do this all the time, even in the church.
We talk about people instead of to them.
We speak for people instead of asking from them.
We judge motives we never took time to understand.

And it needs to stop.

You want to build real trust in your marriage? Ask more questions.
You want to lead people better at work or in ministry? Ask before you assume.
You want to stop being chronically offended? Trade your periods for question marks.

“Help me understand why you said that?”
“Can you help me understand what you meant?”
“Is something going on that I don’t see?”
“What happened from your perspective?”

Those kinds of questions are not weakness.
They’re strength. Humble strength.
The kind that seeks truth more than the thrill of self-righteousness.

Here’s the raw truth. Some of us would rather be angry and wrong than humble and informed.

We cling to our pain because it makes us feel justified. But what if your story isn’t the full story? What if the “truth” you’re holding is only half of it?

That doesn’t mean everyone’s off the hook. It doesn’t mean you never confront. It doesn’t mean you pretend people didn’t hurt you. But when you do confront, do it with a question mark, not a gavel.

Accusations harden hearts. Questions open them.

And if we’re serious about being people of grace, if we actually believe in redemption, reconciliation, second chances, then we better get really comfortable with asking:
“What’s the rest of this story?”
“Is there more I don’t know?”
“Before I draw conclusions, can I hear your side?”

Start using more “?” than “.” and watch how your relationships shift.
Watch how your defensiveness drops.
Watch how healing and inner peace begins to sneak in.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll stop losing good people to bad assumptions.

So go ahead ask the question. It might just save you from a thousand regrets.

What If Success Isn’t the Goal?

June 5, 2025 / / 0 Comments

We’re all running.
Maybe we’re chasing the next win.
Striving for the better job, the cleaner house, the bigger impact, the more impressive version of ourselves.

It’s exhausting and somehow never enough.

The world’s voice is loud: Do more. Be more. Prove your worth. Be perfect. And it’s easy to believe that if we’re not constantly climbing, we’re somehow falling behind.

But here’s question with which we need to wrestle: What if success isn’t actually the goal?

What if being present, grounded, kind, and faithful right where you are is enough? What if you’re not behind, you’re just looking at the wrong scoreboard?

Maybe we’ve confused success with significance.
Success chases numbers.
Significance shows up for people.
Success aims to be impressive.
Significance aims to be intentional.

And intentional living doesn’t always look flashy but it does last.

So how do we shift from chasing success to choosing significance?

1. Redefine your win.

Ask yourself: What really matters to me? If your life was a garden, what would you want to grow? Joy? Peace? Connection? Focus on growing that, not everything else.

2. Notice who you’re trying to impress.

Would your calendar, habits, or stress level look different if you weren’t trying to prove anything? Be honest, and then get brave enough to choose freedom over performance.

3. Embrace small, steady impact.

Raising kind kids. Listening well. Loving your neighbor. Leading with integrity. These don’t trend online, but they change lives in quiet but long lasting ways.

4. Resist the highlight reel.

Life isn’t a competition. Your pace, your progress, and your purpose don’t need to match anyone else’s. You’re allowed to grow slower if you’re growing deeper.

5. Celebrate quiet victories.

Did you rest instead of pushing through? Apologize instead of defending yourself? Choose presence over perfection? That’s success. Start naming it.

Maybe success isn’t something you chase.
Maybe it’s something you live on purpose, in love, at your own pace.

You’re not falling behind. You’re learning to walk forward in a world that only knows how to sprint.

And that, my friend, might be the most countercultural success of all.

Until next week, keep choosing what matters.
The scoreboard doesn’t define you. Your soul does.

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2026 derrickhurst.org

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑