Category: Catalyst (Page 2 of 35)

A catalyst is one that sparks something. The catalyst speaks from experience and enables others to move forward more freely. These articles are written to act as a catalyst in your life.

The Workouts I Used to Hate

I don’t like leg day.

Never have. And honestly never will.

Leg workouts are the ones that make you question your life choices halfway through. They’re the ones that make sitting on the toilet feel like a strategic operation. They’re the ones that make you walk like a baby giraffe learning how to use its legs for the first time.

Upper body? Fine.
Cardio? Manageable.
Legs? I’d rather reorganize the garage.

For a long time, I treated them the way most of us treat the hard parts of life. I would approach them with avoidance dressed up as good planning.

“I’ll get to that next week.”
“I already worked hard today.”
“I did a few lunges… that counts.”

But here’s the truth: Legs are not optional. They’re the foundation, literally and figuratively.

You can stack all the strength you want on top, but if what’s underneath is weak, eventually the whole thing starts wobbling. Knees complain. Balance gets sketchy. Injuries sneak in.

So I changed my approach.

I don’t train legs because I enjoy them. You’ll never make me like doing a leg workout! I train them because I need them.

Because I don’t want twigs for knees.

Because I’d like to still move well a couple decades from now.

Because a strong foundation makes everything else work better.

And somewhere between the squats and the lunges, I realized that lesson doesn’t stop in the gym.

Most of us love working on the visible stuff. The parts people notice. The impressive, Instagram-worthy progress.

But foundations?

They’re quiet. They’re repetitive. They’re usually uncomfortable.

Nobody applauds the unseen work. Things like building healthy rhythms, caring for relationships, managing stress, learning how to rest, showing up consistently when no one’s watching.

Yet those are the things holding everything else up.

Skip leg day long enough and your body lets you know.

Skip the foundational work of life long enough and something else eventually starts hurting.

Your margin shrinks.
Your patience thins.
Your energy dips.
Your joy leaks out the side.

It doesn’t happen all at once.

It shows up slowly… like realizing you’re groaning every time you sit down.

What I’ve learned is this: The workouts I used to hate are often the ones I need the most.

Not because they’re fun. But because they’re forming something important. They’re protecting future-me. They’re building strength I’ll be grateful for later.

So yeah… I still don’t love leg day.

I still move carefully afterward.

I still plan my schedule knowing tomorrow might be rough.

But I show up.

Because foundations matter.

In the gym. And everywhere else.

You Are Being Discipled. The Only Question Is: By Whom?

Let’s stop pretending neutrality exists.

Every Christian, heck every single person in North America is being discipled every single day. The only question is whether it’s happening by the way of Jesus or by an algorithm designed to keep your attention, monetize your outrage, and slowly shape who and how you love.

That might sound dramatic. But it most certainly is not.

If you spend more time scrolling than praying, more time consuming commentary than Scripture, more time listening to talking heads than walking with other believers, then you are being formed. Just not by the church. Not by the Word. Not by the Spirit.

By a feed.

Algorithms Are Excellent Disciplers, They’re Just Not Good Ones

Social media doesn’t just show you content.
It studies you.

It learns what makes you angry.
What makes you afraid.
What makes you feel superior.
What confirms what you already believe.

And then slowly, subtly, relentlessly it feeds you more of it. And it pushes you to extremes without you being aware.

Over time, it doesn’t just shape your opinions. It shapes your reflexes.

Who you distrust.
Who you dismiss.
Who you blame.
Who you dehumanize.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth:
Many Christians today are more fluent in the language of outrage than repentance, more practiced in sarcasm than gentleness, and more shaped by cultural tribes than by the Sermon on the Mount.

And friends that didn’t happen overnight.
It happened one scroll at a time.

Loving Jesus Is Not the Same as Being Formed by Him

Let’s be totally clear. I’m not questioning your sincerity. I totally trust that you believe in Jesus.

You love Jesus.
You love worship.
You show up on Sundays.
You believe the right things.

But belief without formation produces fragile faith. And friend that’s being generous.

If your faith collapses under cultural pressure…
If your joy evaporates with the news cycle…
If your prayer life is thin but your opinions are sharp…
If you feel constantly anxious, angry, or exhausted…

That’s not a failure of love.
It’s a failure of discipleship.

Jesus didn’t say, “Go and make converts.”
He said, “Go and make disciples.”

Disciples don’t just admire Jesus.
They arrange their lives around Him.

The Cost of Neglecting Deep Discipleship

When Scripture becomes occasional instead of central…
When community becomes optional instead of essential…
When spiritual practices are replaced with spiritual content…

We shouldn’t be surprised when:

  • Faith becomes reactive instead of rooted
  • Churches fracture instead of mature
  • Christians sound more like cable news than the Kingdom of God

Formation always wins. Something will shape you.

And if you don’t intentionally submit yourself to the slow, counter-cultural way of Jesus, something faster, louder, and angrier will happily take His place.

Jesus Deserves More Than Your Leftover Attention

Jesus gave everything not a fraction, not a scroll-length moment, not a distracted nod between notifications.

He gave His body.
His blood.
His life.

And we offer Him… ten minutes if we’re not tired?

This isn’t about guilt.
It’s about honesty.

What if the exhaustion so many Christians feel isn’t from following Jesus too closely, but from trying to follow Him casually in a world that disciples aggressively?

A Loving but Serious Invitation

What if you:

  • Opened Scripture before opening an app
  • Chose a small group over another stream
  • Let a trusted believer ask hard questions
  • Practiced silence in a world addicted to noise

What if you stopped outsourcing your spiritual formation to platforms that don’t love your soul?

Jesus is not competing for your attention.
He is inviting your allegiance.

Not because He wants something from you, but because He has something for you.

Life.
Freedom.
Depth.
Peace that algorithms can’t manufacture.

So Choose Your Discipler

This isn’t a call to abandon technology.
It’s a call to reclaim formation.

To dig deep again.
To slow down.
To walk with others.
To sit with Scripture long enough for it to confront and comfort you.

Because friend, you are being discipled.

And the One who gave everything for you is still saying, quietly but firmly:

“Follow Me.”

I Don’t Workout To Look Good

It’s no secret I spend a lot of time in the gym.
Sometimes it’s the one in my garage. Sometimes it’s the one down the road from work.

Either way, my feet hit the floor at 4:00 a.m. Most mornings I’m out the driveway by 4:07. Long before the rest of my family even thinks about being awake.

But here’s the reality most don’t understand. I don’t do it to look good. I don’t do it to have the best physique.

I do it because I know something to be true: We don’t accidentally get strong.

I’m not going to wake up some random Monday and be stronger than I was yesterday. Strength doesn’t show up by surprise. It takes discipline. It takes effort. It takes grit. And if I stop putting in the work, I don’t stay the same. I get weaker.

That part of life is obvious.

It’s also no secret that I’m getting older. But so is everyone else. None of us are just going to “feel better someday.” We won’t magically become more disciplined tomorrow. And we won’t suddenly want to put in effort once the circumstances are “just right.”

That day doesn’t come. No matter how much we wish for it.

So what am I training for?

I’m training to be stronger today than I was yesterday. I’m training to be healthy enough to take care of my family for decades to come. I’m training to run around with future grandkids someday (no, this is not a hint so don’t read into it).

I’m also training with an eye on reality. Heart issues. Cholesterol. Blood pressure. Joint problems. I’ve seen enough of that in my extended family to know I want to stay as healthy as I can for as long as I can.

When it comes to our bodies, training makes sense to us. We can measure it.
The scale moves.
The weights get heavier.
The waistline changes.

But here’s the question that keeps nagging at me:

Why do we understand training so clearly in the gym, but act like it doesn’t matter anywhere else?

We don’t drift into strength or discipline. We drift into weakness.

That hit me this morning as I pulled out of my driveway at 4:07 a.m. If I’m this intentional about getting stronger physically, why wouldn’t that same principle apply to the rest of my life? Why do we make resolutions about workouts but ignore what’s shaping our character, our focus, our patience, and our habits?

So here are the harder questions I’m sitting with:

What is my phone training me to crave?
What is my desire for comfort training me to avoid?
What is my daily routine shaping me into?

As I keep training in the gym, I’m realizing I need to wrestle with a bigger question:

What else in my life is quietly training me, and what is it training me to become?

That’s a question worth paying attention to.

How to Course-Correct Without Shame

You don’t wake up one day and decide to drift.

You wake up one day, pause long enough to be honest, and realize…
I’m not where I meant to be.

That realization can hit hard. Spiritually. Relationally. Personally.
And for a lot of people, that moment becomes dangerous. It’s dangerous not because of the drift itself, but because of what they tell themselves next.

“I’ve blown it.”
“I should be further along.”
“I need to fix this before God wants anything to do with me.”

That voice doesn’t lead to repentance.
It leads to hiding.

Let’s get something straight: drift is not failure it’s feedback.

Drift Reveals, It Doesn’t Condemn

Drift exposes where attention slipped.
Where boundaries softened.
Where urgency faded.

And Scripture is clear: God does not respond to drift with disgust. He responds with invitation.

“Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.” (Joel 2:13, ESV)

Grace doesn’t excuse drift.
But grace does make correction possible.

Three Lies That Keep People Stuck

If drift is common, why don’t more people correct course? Because they believe lies.

Lie #1: “I’ve drifted too far.”
Distance feels longer than it is. Pride exaggerates the gap.

Lie #2: “I need a full restart.”
No, you need a realignment, not a reinvention.

Lie #3: “I’ll get serious when life settles down.”
Life doesn’t settle down. Direction is chosen in chaos or not at all.

These lies keep people stalled when God is inviting movement.

How to Course-Correct (Without Overhauling Your Life)

Correction doesn’t require drama. It requires honesty and obedience. Here’s how real course correction actually works:

1. Stop and Name the Drift
Be specific. Where did you lose focus? Prayer? Scripture? Community? Integrity? Say it out loud. Drift loses power when it’s named.

2. Re-Center on Direction, Not Guilt
Go back to the theme or Word that was meant to guide you. Guilt focuses backward. Direction focuses forward.

3. Restart One Daily Rhythm
Not ten. One.
Five minutes of prayer.
One chapter of Scripture.
One protected boundary.
Consistency beats intensity every time.

4. Bring One Person Into It
Isolation accelerates drift. Accountability corrects it. Tell someone you trust not for shame, but for alignment.

That’s it. No dramatic reset. No public apology tour. Just obedience.

Grace Is the Power Source

Correction without grace leads to burnout.
Grace without correction leads to drift.

Jesus offers both.

He doesn’t say, “Try harder.”
He says, “Follow me.”

And following always involves movement sometimes back toward center.

Let me coach you straight for a moment.

First:
You don’t need to punish yourself to prove sincerity. You need to obey quickly.

Second:
The longer you delay correction, the farther drift takes you. Course-correct early. Pride makes the walk back longer than it needs to be.

Here’s the truth most people miss:

The moment you realize you’ve drifted is not a moment of failure. It’s a moment of clarity.

Don’t waste it.

You don’t need a perfect restart.
You need a humble realignment.

And grace is already waiting at the center.

Drift Is The Enemy

Most people don’t fail their New Year goals because they quit.

They fail because they drift.

They start January with energy, motivation, and good intentions. They don’t abandon the plan outright. They just slowly stop paying attention. Days blur together. Priorities soften. What once felt urgent becomes optional. And before they know it, they’re moving… just not anywhere that actually matters.

Drift is far more dangerous than quitting.

When you quit, you know it. When you drift, you convince yourself you’re still “basically fine.”

Spiritually, relationally, physically no one drifts toward health, depth, or faithfulness. Drift always moves you somewhere unintended.

“Pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.” (Hebrews 2:1)

That verse exists for a reason.

Motion Is Not Direction

Busyness is not faithfulness. Activity is not obedience. Motion is not direction.

You can fill your calendar, crush tasks, and still slowly drift away from who God is calling you to be. You can stay “productive” while losing clarity, purpose, and conviction.

Drift happens when:

  • You stop deciding and start reacting
  • You stop praying and start assuming
  • You stop leading your life and start letting it happen

The reality is: If you don’t choose a direction, your life will choose one for you.

You Don’t Need 12 Goals. You Need a Compass

This is why I’m convinced most people don’t need more resolutions. They need more focus.

Not a to-do list.
Not a productivity hack.
directional anchor.

Ask yourself this uncomfortable question:

If I keep living exactly the way I am right now, where will I end up?

Not where you hope to end up.
Where your current habits are actually taking you.

That answer doesn’t lie.

This is where a Word or Theme for the Year becomes powerful. It’s not just trendy, not cute, but clarifying. One word that acts like a compass. A filter. A line you refuse to cross.

Words like:

  • Faithful
  • Courage
  • Rooted
  • Undivided
  • Obedient

Not aspirational fluff directional clarity.

Drift Is Subtle. Direction Is Chosen Daily.

You don’t drift all at once. You drift a little at a time:

  • One skipped prayer
  • One unguarded yes
  • One “I’ll deal with that later”

That’s why direction has to be chosen daily, not annually.

Daily rhythms beat big intentions every time.

If you don’t decide:

  • when you’ll pray
  • how you’ll be in the Word
  • what you’ll say no to
  • who speaks into your life

Then friend, you are already drifting.

Hard Question Time

Let’s be honest:

  • Where have you been drifting spiritually?
  • What conviction have you softened?
  • What discipline have you rationalized away?
  • What decision are you avoiding because clarity would require courage?

Drift feels harmless until one day you look up and don’t recognize where you are.

Let me leave you with two coaching challenges.

1. Name the Drift.
You can’t correct what you won’t confront. Write it down. Say it out loud. Bring it into the light. Drift loses its power when it’s named.

2. Decide One Non-Negotiable.
Just one. A daily practice, boundary, or rhythm that anchors you to direction. Small. Clear. Unbreakable. This is how momentum becomes faithfulness.

You don’t need a perfect plan for the year.

You need clarityconviction, and the courage to refuse drift.

Don’t just avoid quitting this year.

Choose direction and walk it on purpose.

Monday Mood

Mondays get a bad rap. Sometimes they’re the best day of the week. A fresh start, a clean slate, a chance to chase your goals with new energy. Other times? They feel like the worst day. They have a heavy drag after a break, especially when it’s the first Monday after a long holiday like Christmas.

Maybe you’re juggling kids back to school, the job kicking back into full gear, and routines that suddenly feel more rigid than you remember. The magic of holiday freedom fades, and the reality of early alarms, packed lunches, and deadlines returns.

It’s normal to feel a mix of emotions today: refreshed and ready to go, or tired and wishing for just one more day off. The key is how you handle this Monday mood. Because how you start your week often sets the tone for the whole thing.

If Monday feels like drudgery, try this mindset shift: Instead of seeing it as the “end” of something good, see it as the “start” of new opportunities. A day to reset, recommit, and choose what you want to focus on even if it’s just a tiny win.

Remember, routines aren’t meant to trap you; they’re there to support you. They create space for progress when life feels busy and overwhelming.

If you’re struggling to find that motivation or balance as life snaps back into place, find someone to walk alongside you. A coach or mentor, a friend or even family member can help you regain control and build a plan that fits your real life.

How are you feeling about this Monday? What’s one thing you’re choosing to lean into today?


#MondayMotivation #FreshStart #BackToRoutine #CoachingSupport #KeepMovingForward

Why Most People Quit on the New Year by January 15 and How Not to Be One of Them

Most people don’t fail at change because they lack motivation.
They fail because they try to change everything at once.

New year energy is high. Expectations are even higher. And by mid-January, a lot of people are already quietly quitting yet again.

So this year let’s try something different.

If you want 2026 to actually feel different, don’t overhaul your life. Build a few simple habits you can keep. Not impressive ones. Sustainable ones.

Here are three simple tips that work because they’re small enough to stick and strong enough to matter.


1. Start Smaller Than You Think You Should

Most people aim for dramatic. Lose 50 pounds by the end of the year. Save $1000 more per month, even though the budget can’t sustain it. Run a marathon, even though you don’t run at all. People often think big change requires big effort.

But it doesn’t. It requires consistent effort.

Ten minutes of anything beats an hour you never show up for.
One page read beats a book you never open.
One prayer spoken beats a spiritual plan that lives in your notes app.

If a habit feels heavy before you even start, it’s simply too big.

Simple truth: Momentum is built by keeping promises to yourself, not by making ambitious ones.

Ask yourself: What’s the smallest version of this habit I could actually do most days?
Start there.


2. Attach New Habits to Old Rhythms

Willpower is unreliable. Structure is not.

The easiest way to build something new is to attach it to something you already do:

  • Coffee in the morning → one quiet moment of prayer or reflection
  • Commute → listen to an audio book, podcast, or even your daily Bible plan
  • Brushing your teeth → have one question you ask yourself daily

You don’t need more time.
You need to use the time you have more efficiently.

This works for faith, fitness, reading, leadership. It works for pretty much everything.

Simple truth: If it doesn’t have a place in your day, it won’t last.


3. Measure Faithfulness, Not Outcomes

Most people quit because they measure the wrong thing.

They ask:

  • “Am I seeing results yet?”
  • “Do I feel different?”
  • “Is this working?”
  • “Do I weigh less today than yesterday?”

A better question: Did I show up today?

Showing up is the win. Repeating it is the breakthrough.

Growth, whether that’s spiritual, physical, or emotional, often happens quietly. You don’t notice it until you look back and realize you’re not where you used to be.

Simple truth: Consistency compounds even when you can’t see it yet.


A Final Coaching Question

Before this year fills up with noise, schedules, and expectations, wrestle with this:

What is one habit that if you practiced it most days would make the biggest difference by the end of the year?

Not five habits.
Not a perfect plan.
Just one habit.

Start there. Stay with it. Adjust as needed. Repeat.

And if you want help thinking through habits, rhythms, or next steps, whether faith-related or life-related in any way, I do offer one-on-one coaching. You don’t have to figure everything out alone.

Just email me here if that would be helpful.

This year doesn’t change because it’s new.
It changes when you do something new and keep doing it.

Be well, friends.

Nothing Is Falling Apart, So Why Does This Feel So Heavy?

Nothing went wrong enough to explain.
But enough went wrong to feel it.

No single moment you could point to and say, “That’s it. That’s the thing.”
Just a quiet accumulation. A slow stacking of disappointments. Small frustrations. Closed doors that didn’t slam—they just… didn’t open.

Like your car battery dying when it’s five degrees outside.
Not a crisis. Just inconvenient enough to complicate everything.
Cold hands. Cold wind. One more thing that takes longer than it should.

Or finding out a network you love—one that mattered, one you poured into—decided to go a different direction. No explosion. No betrayal. Just less room. A quiet removal. The kind of loss that doesn’t come with a clean ending, just a shrug and a “this is where we are now.”

Add in the rest of life—schedules that don’t line up, things that won’t thaw, plans that keep shifting—and suddenly the weight shows up. Not all at once. But enough that you feel it when you finally sit down at night.

And that can be heavier than a crisis.

Because when something clearly breaks, people understand. There’s language for it. There’s space to grieve it. But when life just quietly goes off-script—when momentum stalls and expectations dissolve—you’re left carrying something that feels too small to explain and too heavy to ignore.

You start telling yourself you should be fine.
That other people have it worse.
That this isn’t worth naming.

But the weight is real.

And this is where Advent refuses to be sentimental.

The world Jesus entered wasn’t falling apart in dramatic ways. It was just worn down. Politically tense. Spiritually tired. Full of people doing their best, waiting for something to change, and quietly losing confidence that it would.

That’s the world God chose to step into.

Not in a moment of triumph.
Not when everything was aligned.
Not when people had margin and clarity and emotional bandwidth.

Luke tells us, “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11, ESV)

Unto you.

Not just the desperate.
Not just the broken.
But the quietly disappointed. The worn down. The ones dealing with dead batteries, closed doors, and the kind of loss that doesn’t come with a headline.

Christmas doesn’t show up to fix everything instantly. It shows up to be present before it does.

John writes, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5, ESV)

Notice what he doesn’t say.
He doesn’t say the darkness disappears.
He says it doesn’t win.

That matters when the darkness feels ordinary. When it looks like frustration instead of fear. When it sounds like, “I didn’t expect this to be this hard.”

If you’re carrying weight this season and can’t quite explain why, you’re not failing at Christmas. You’re actually standing right where the story begins.

Christmas doesn’t ask you to pretend everything is fine.
It doesn’t demand manufactured joy.

It offers presence.
It offers nearness.
It offers light that shows up quietly and stays.

So if nothing went wrong enough to talk about—but everything feels heavy—know this: you are exactly the kind of person Christmas came for.

The light is already here

When the Toughest Choices Are the Only Right Ones

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.

Why Losing Focus Is Killing Your Mission

When a person, a church, or any organization loses focus, it’s not just a minor slip-up, it’s a wrecking ball that smashes everything around them. If your goal is to help people grow and thrive in life and leadership, but all you do is shape them to fit your personal preferences, congratulations you’re not cultivating leaders, you’re making clones. Boring, lifeless copies with zero originality.

The church exists to make disciples real, passionate, life-changing disciples – not to obsess over boards, budgets, or butts in seats. When your priorities are stuck on numbers and committees instead of people’s souls, you’re not doing the work of God. You’re acting like the very religious folks Jesus called out in the New Testament who were more focused on appearances and power than on love and truth.

If you say you care about people but live like dollars rule your world, you’re sending a message louder than any sermon ever could. You don’t actually care.

So here’s the hard truth: Losing focus isn’t a small mistake. It’s spiritual malpractice. It’s a betrayal of the mission. And it’s why so many people check out not because they don’t need the church, but because the church stopped needing them.

Refocus or fold. Because discipleship is messy. It’s uncomfortable. It demands sacrifice. But anything less? It’s just cloning, and cloning is dead.

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