Tag: Faith (Page 1 of 24)

The Right Side of the Boat

April 20, 2026 / / 0 Comments

There’s a moment most people hit eventually.

You’ve been grinding. Showing up. Doing what you know how to do.

And it’s not working.

Not a little slow. Nothing. No traction. No payoff. Just effort disappearing into the dark.

That’s where this story starts.

A group of guys go out to fish, something they’ve done their whole lives. This isn’t new territory. This is their lane. And still… all night, nothing.

Empty.

If you’ve ever worked hard at something and watched it go nowhere, you already understand the scene.

Then morning comes. And from the shoreline, someone calls out:

“Catch anything?”

Nope.

“Try the right side of the boat.”

That’s it. No explanation. No credentials. Just a voice suggesting a small adjustment.

And somehow they listen.

That’s the part that should catch you. These aren’t amateurs. They know what they’re doing. But after a long night of getting nowhere, they still have enough humility left to try something different.

So they move the nets. And everything changes.

Suddenly more fish than they can handle. The kind of result that makes you stop and realize this is not luck.

Here’s the tension we need to feel. Most people don’t get stuck because they’re lazy.

They get stuck because they’re locked in.

Same habits. Same patterns. Same approach. Over and over again.

We call it consistency. Sometimes it’s just resistance to change.

Because these kind of adjustments feel small. It feels almost too simple to matter.

But that’s usually where the shift happens.

Not in some massive overhaul, but in a decision to listen when something, or someone, cuts through the noise and says, “Try it this way.”

The story turns when one of them realizes who’s on the shore. It’s Jesus.

And one of the guys, Peter, doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even think. He jumps straight into the water and heads to shore.

Because when something real shows up, you stop analyzing and start moving.

And when they get to shore, it’s not chaos. It’s calm. A fire’s already going. Food’s already cooking.

Here’s the twist: Jesus already has fish. He didn’t need theirs.

But he still tells them, “Bring some of what you caught.” That changes the whole angle.

This wasn’t about filling a gap. It wasn’t about proving themselves. It was an invitation.

Join me.

Be part of something.

That’s a different way to think about life. The pressure to perform, to produce, to make something happen. That’s heavy. But what if the point isn’t proving your worth?

What if it’s paying attention… and then responding?

So if you’ve been pushing hard and getting nowhere, maybe the answer isn’t more effort.

Maybe it’s a shift.

Listen again.

Try the other side.

It might not be about doing more.

It might be about doing something different and finally getting unstuck.

You Came for This… But What If There’s More?

March 30, 2026 / / 0 Comments

You ever go somewhere expecting one thing… and walk out with way more than you planned?

You run into a store for “just one thing”… and somehow leave with a full cart.
You order something simple… and they upgrade you for free.
You show up for a quick conversation… and it turns into something that actually changes you.

It’s unexpected.
Unplanned.
Better than what you came for.

But here’s the twist—most of us don’t actually like that feeling when it comes to life.

Because we want control.

We Like Clear Expectations

Most of us approach life—and even God—like a transaction.

“I’ll show up… if You do this.”
“I’ll believe… if this works out.”
“I’ll trust You… as long as it goes my way.”

We come in with a plan:

  • Fix this problem
  • Smooth out this relationship
  • Make life a little easier

And if we’re honest, we don’t want more…

We want specific.

That’s Exactly What Happened on Palm Sunday

When Jesus rode into Jerusalem, the crowd thought they knew what was happening.

This was their moment.

They waved palm branches like victory flags.
They shouted for rescue.
They believed Jesus was about to flip the system and make their lives better—fast.

They weren’t looking for a Savior.

They were looking for a solution.

Jesus Doesn’t Do “Just Enough”

Here’s where everything flips.

Jesus didn’t come to meet their expectations.

He came to exceed them—on a completely different level.

They wanted a leader to fix their situation.
He came to fix the root of everything broken.

They wanted freedom from Rome.
He came to bring freedom from sin, shame, and death itself.

They wanted a win they could see.

He brought a victory that would last forever.

The Problem? It Didn’t Look Like “More”

Because “more” didn’t feel better in the moment.

It looked like tension.
It looked like confusion.
It looked like a cross.

And that’s where this gets uncomfortably real.

Because we do the same thing.

When Life Doesn’t Go As Planned

You pray for clarity… and get silence.
You ask for relief… and things get harder.
You want a quick fix… and instead you’re in a process.

It’s easy to assume: This isn’t working.

But what if…

What if you didn’t get less?

What if you actually got more—just not in the way you expected?

The Kind of Faith That Changes You

Real faith isn’t about getting what you asked for.

It’s about trusting that what God is doing is bigger than what you asked for.

Even when:

  • It takes longer
  • It feels harder
  • It doesn’t make sense yet

Because sometimes the thing you wanted fixed…
is actually connected to something deeper that needs healed.

And Jesus doesn’t do surface-level.

So Here’s the Question

Are you open to more…

Or are you stuck on what you expected?

Because you can hold tightly to your version of how life should go…

Or you can trust that Jesus might be doing something better than you can currently see.

You might have come looking for a quick answer.

But what if He’s offering something deeper?
Something lasting?
Something that actually changes you?

Not less.

More.

Just not what you planned.

No Moderate Importance

March 23, 2026 / / 0 Comments

There’s a line from C. S. Lewis that doesn’t leave you much room to hide:

“Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, is of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is of moderate importance.”

Here’s the problem: Most people don’t reject Jesus. They just reduce Him.

We Don’t Deny Jesus. We Shelf Him

Nobody wakes up and says, “I’m going to walk away from Jesus today.”

Instead, we slowly rearrange things.

We give Him a place… just not the place.

He gets:

  • an hour on Sunday
  • a quick prayer when things feel shaky
  • a passing thought when life gets heavy

But when it comes to real life? We’re still in charge.

We make the calls.
We set the direction.
We control the outcomes.

Jesus is included…
but He’s not leading.

That’s what “moderate importance” actually looks like.

And unfortunately, it’s way more common than we want to admit.

The Tension We Try to Avoid

Here’s what we don’t like. If Jesus is who He says He is, then He doesn’t fit into your life. He takes it over.

That’s the part we resist.

Because we want Jesus to help our life work better not redefine it completely.

We want peace… without surrender.
Purpose… without disruption.
Grace… without change.

But that version of Jesus doesn’t exist.

You don’t need more information about Jesus.

You’ve got enough.

You’ve heard it.
You’ve read it.
You’ve sat in rooms where it’s been explained.

That’s not the issue. The issue is what you’ve done with it. Because at some point, more input isn’t growth. It’s avoidance.

You Already Know Where This Hits

You don’t need a list from me. You already know the places in your life Jesus has been kept at a distance.

It’s that area where you say:

  • “I’ll figure this out”
  • “I know what’s best here”
  • “This isn’t a big deal”

It’s your:

  • money
  • habits
  • relationships
  • private thoughts
  • hidden struggles

It’s the places where you want Jesus to be present but not in control. That’s the place we call the shelf.

The Real Issue Isn’t Doubt

We like to make this about questions.

“I’m just not sure…”
“I’m still figuring things out…”
“I need more clarity…”

Sometimes that’s real. But a lot of the time? It’s cover. Because the deeper issue isn’t “Is Jesus real?” It’s:

“Do I actually want Him to lead?”

That’s a much harder question. Because if the answer is yes then things have to change.

Control Is the Real Competition

Let’s just call it what it is. The biggest competitor for Jesus in your life isn’t atheism.

It’s control.

We want to run things the way we want them run. We don’t feel like we’re in control at work or at home or on the ball field so we’ll control the things we think we can control.

We want to decide what matters.
We want to define what’s right.
We want to protect what’s ours.

And Jesus steps into that and says:

“That’s not how this works friend.”

Not harshly.
But clearly.

You don’t get partial authority with Jesus.

At some point, everyone runs into the same moment: You either keep Jesus in a manageable space, or you let Him take over the parts you’ve been protecting.

There isn’t a middle ground that actually works. You can pretend there is for a while. A long while, even.

But eventually it shows up:

  • in your anxiety
  • in your relationships
  • in your restlessness
  • in that constant feeling that something’s off

Because you weren’t designed to be your own authority.

So What Do You Do With This?

This isn’t about “trying harder.”

Not about “being better.”

That’s not the move that works here. The move is honesty. Brutal, uncomfortable honesty. Where has Jesus been moderately important? Where have you kept control? Where have you said, “You can have this but not that”?

This is a great place to start. Because following Jesus doesn’t begin with perfection. It begins with surrender.

Off the Shelf

If Christianity is false, then none of this matters. Walk away. Do something else.

But if it’s true. If Jesus really is who He says He is, then He doesn’t belong on a shelf.

He belongs at the center.

Not part of your life.
All of it.

Not occasionally.
Constantly.

Not when it’s easy.
Even when it costs you.

No moderate importance.

He’s either everything. Or He’s nothing. He won’t ever be just something.

Don’t Quit Yet

March 20, 2026 / / 0 Comments

You’re exhausted. Everything hurts. Life feels like it’s crushing you from the inside out. Work, relationships, your dreams, maybe even your faith, everything seems to be failing at once. You’ve begged for relief, shouted for it, prayed for it, but nothing changes. And now… now you just want out.

You want it to stop. You want the pain gone. You want the struggle erased. You want someone, anyone, to make it all easier.

But here’s the thing: sometimes life doesn’t give you a way out. Sometimes the valley isn’t an accident. Sometimes the darkness isn’t a punishment. It’s where something real happens.

It’s here, in the dark, when you’re exhausted, lonely, scared, and desperate, that your soul stretches. That raw, unfiltered part of you, the part you try to hide from yourself is exposed. And in that exposure, something shifts. Maybe slowly. Maybe imperceptibly at first. But it shifts.

God’s presence doesn’t always come wrapped in light or clarity. Sometimes it comes in the quiet whisper that you almost miss. Sometimes it’s in the hand that feels invisible, guiding you step by step through the muck. Sometimes it’s in the stubborn spark that refuses to die even when you feel completely defeated.

Friend, the valley is brutal. It’s raw. It’s messy. It hurts like hell. And yet… it is exactly where resilience, courage, and clarity are born. Every tear, every sleepless night, every moment you feel like giving up is shaping something in you. Something stronger, something deeper, something unshakable.

So stay. Stay even when you’re ready to run. Stay even when it hurts. Don’t try to skip the pain or speed through it. Let it stretch you, refine you, strip you down, and show you what you’re made of.

You may come out bruised, shaken, heck maybe even broken, but you will come out changed. And when you do… you’ll finally see that even in the valley, you were never truly alone.

The Day It All Got Real

March 19, 2026 / / 1 Comment

There are moments in life that don’t ask for your attention. They take it.

Last week was one of those moments.

Everything slowed down and sped up at the exact same time. The kind of moment where the noise of life fades, but the weight of it presses harder than ever. Sitting in a hospital, staring at monitors, listening to words you never want to hear. It does something to you. It strips everything down.

And what’s left… is clarity.

Not the kind you chase in a podcast or a productivity hack. The kind you don’t want, but can’t ignore.

It became painfully obvious how much of life I spend holding onto things that don’t actually matter. Not bad things. Just… lesser things. Things that feel important until they’re standing next to something that actually is.

Because in those moments, you don’t think about what you own.
You don’t think about what you’ve built.
You don’t think about your plans, your goals, or even your next move.

You think about people.

You think about the ones you love.
The conversations you had.
The ones you didn’t.
The time you assumed you had left.

And for a second, maybe longer, you realize how upside down it all is.

We’ve built lives around accumulation. More success. More security. More comfort. More control. And none of those things are wrong… until they quietly take first place.

Because when life gets heavy, and I mean really heavy, those things don’t hold you up.

They don’t sit next to you in a hospital room.
They don’t speak peace into fear.
They don’t remind you what actually matters.

People do.

Love does.

Presence does.

And maybe the hardest truth in all of this is how often it takes a moment like that to wake us up. Not a gentle nudge. Not a sermon. Not a quote we scroll past.

It takes the floor dropping out.

It takes the realization that everything you have can be gone. And one day it will be. Not to create fear, but to tell the truth we spend most of our lives avoiding.

We are not as in control as we think we are.

And the things we’ve placed at the center of our lives? A lot of them won’t be there when it actually counts.

So what do you do with that?

You don’t wait for the next scare.
You don’t wait for the next moment that forces clarity on you.
You choose it now.
You reorder things now.

You put people first on purpose.
You say what needs to be said – now because later might not be here.
You show up when it’s inconvenient – now because you can’t take tomorrow for granted any longer.
You hold a little less tightly to the things that won’t last, and a little more intentionally to the things that will.
You reorder everything just to be a little more present.

Because life is heavy sometimes.

And it has a way of reminding you without asking that you don’t get to keep everything.

But you do get to choose what matters while you have it.

Don’t waste that.

Do You Want to Be Well?

March 18, 2026 / / 0 Comments

Jesus asked a simple question once: “Do you want to be well?” (John 5:6). Sounds easy, right? But here’s the thing, this isn’t just small talk. This question pierces straight to the heart. It’s not about a temporary fix or a quick feel-good moment. It’s about a total change from the inside, outside, and upside down.

In John 5, Jesus meets a man who had been stuck for 38 years. He’s been waiting for help, waiting for someone to make a move, waiting for life to happen to him. And then Jesus asks him, “Do you want to be well?” It’s almost sarcastic: the man has wanted it, desperately, for decades. But wanting it isn’t enough. Jesus’ question calls for real action, real commitment, and a willingness to step out of comfort.

If we’re being honest, most of us are comfortable being “a little broken.” We settle. We tolerate. We scroll, we binge, we distract ourselves because actually getting well? That’s scary. It asks us to confront ourselves, our habits, our excuses. It asks us to move. To do something. To actually let God do the hard work of making us whole.

Complacency is seductive. Comfort is loud. But Jesus? He’s asking: Do you want more than this? Do you want real life, not just a dull version of it?

So, how do we answer? Not with a shrug. Not with a “maybe someday.” Real healing, real transformation requires action. It requires us to leave the sidelines. To stand up. To risk change. To say yes to something bigger than our comfort zones.

Ask yourself today: Am I really ready to be well? Or am I just pretending while I stay stuck? Jesus isn’t asking for your excuses. He’s asking for your life.

Step out. Be brave. Be whole.

Meeting Grace at the Well

March 2, 2026 / / 0 Comments

He’s is tired, walking through Samaria, and stops at a well. A woman comes to draw water, alone in the heat of the day. She probably thought she was invisible. But Jesus sees her.

Not just her. Her whole story. Her mistakes. Her shame. Her loneliness. And He doesn’t lecture her. He doesn’t condemn. He invites her: “Come, drink. Live.”

Think about how radical this was. He’s a Jewish Rabbi talking to a Samaritan woman. A woman of questionable reputation. Culture said they shouldn’t even speak. Yet Jesus breaks the rules. Grace doesn’t wait for permission. Grace doesn’t care about status, race, gender, or reputation. Grace just shows up.

And the well? It’s not random. In the Old Testament, wells are where life meets love. Rebekah met Isaac at a well. Jacob met Rachel at a well. Wells were places of connection, of covenant, of new beginnings. Here, Jesus is offering the same but bigger. He’s offering living water. He’s offering a life that quenches thirst forever, not just for this woman, but for anyone who’s lonely, isolated, or carrying shame.

She doesn’t need a theology degree. She doesn’t need a perfect life story. She just needs to see Him, and in that moment, her life changes. Jesus’ invitation is clear: it’s about a new way of living, rooted in grace, not rules.

This story isn’t just a story. It’s today. There are wells everywhere in our lives. Moments where we feel stuck, unseen, or unworthy. And Jesus is there, ready to offer life, ready to show grace, ready to invite anyone into something new. All it takes is to come and see, drink and live.

Leaning Into Mercy: The Invitation to a Clean Heart

February 25, 2026 / / 0 Comments

Marriage is a great teacher. Sometimes the hardest. Sometimes the wisest.

If you’ve been married for any length of time, you know relationships only work when you fully lean into one another with mercy. You can’t keep score. You can’t file mental receipts every time your spouse messes up. Because if you do, it becomes a ledger of resentment instead of love.

That’s exactly what the Bible talks about in 1 Corinthians 13 when it says love does not keep a record of wrongs. It’s not a naive rule. It’s a practical truth about human relationships. Mercy is the grease that keeps the gears running smoothly.

And that’s what Psalm 51 invites us to experience. Not just in marriage, but in all areas of our life.

God doesn’t just slap a sticker on our mistakes and call it good. That’s cosmetic. That’s like spraying perfume on a dirty heart. Real mercy goes deeper.

Mercy, by definition, is not getting the bad we deserve. It’s not receiving the punishment or consequences we truly earned. Grace, on the other hand, is getting the good we don’t deserve. The positive blessings that we never could earn on our own.

Psalm 51 isn’t about shame. It’s about a clean heart. It’s about God offering a deep, thorough cleaning of the parts of us that are broken, wounded, or hardened. And the invitation is for us to lean in and receive it.

Think about marriage again. When you truly lean into your spouse with mercy, the relationship doesn’t just survive. It thrives. There’s freedom, trust, and space for growth. You stop being defined by your mistakes. And the same goes for your spouse.

God is inviting us into that same type of relationship: a relationship grounded in mercy. A place where our mess doesn’t disqualify us, and where a clean heart is possible.

So today, pause and ask yourself: Am I holding onto grudges, against others or even myself, that are keeping me from experiencing mercy? Am I leaning in fully, allowing God to clean the heart that only He can reach?

The amazing truth here is that when God cleanses a heart, it’s not surface level. It’s deep, it’s thorough, and it changes how we relate to others and ourselves. Mercy isn’t weak. It’s powerful. It’s transformative.

Lean in. Let it happen. Because a clean heart is the foundation for living fully, freely, and with genuine love.

Come and See Your Need

February 18, 2026 / / 0 Comments

There’s something unsettling about Ash Wednesday.

We walk forward. We kneel or maybe we stand. A thumb presses into our foreheads. Dust mixed with oil is smeared on us. And we hear words we spend the rest of the year trying to avoid:

You are dust, and to dust you shall return.

No filters. No catchy spin. No branding strategy. Just reality.

And if we’re honest, most of us don’t like reality when it strips us down that far.

We prefer curated strength. Polished faith. Manageable struggles. We want a Jesus who enhances our lives, not one who exposes how desperately we need Him.

But Ash Wednesday refuses to play that game.

The ashes are not there to shame us. They simply tell the truth. You are not self-sustaining. You are not invincible. You are not in control. Your body will age. Your strength will fade. Your plans will unravel. And beneath the busyness and bravado, you are more fragile than you’ll ever admit.

That’s not morbid. That’s merciful.

Because until we face our need, we will never reach for grace.

Lent begins when pretending ends.

It begins when the successful professional admits the anxiety is real. When the exhausted mom whispers that she can’t keep carrying it all. When the pastor confesses that he, too, wrestles with doubt and pride. When the teenager realizes popularity can’t quiet loneliness. When the strong one finally says, “I’m not okay.”

Ashes level us.

They remind us that sin isn’t just out there in the headlines. It’s in here in our impatience, ego, lust, greed, resentment, self-righteousness, comparison, secret bitterness. It’s in the subtle belief that we can manage life without daily surrender.

And the truth? We can’t.

We are dust. And dust doesn’t fix itself.

But there’s a whisper of beauty in the ashes of Ash Wednesday: the ashes are placed in the shape of a cross.

Death is spoken. But hope is outlined.

The same God who formed Adam from dust stepped into dust Himself. Jesus didn’t avoid our frailty. He took it on. He walked toward our mortality. He carried our sin. He entered our grave. Not symbolically. Actually.

Ash Wednesday tells the truth about us. Good Friday tells the truth about God.

He doesn’t recoil at our weakness. He moves toward it.

When the ashes mark your forehead, they are not just a reminder of what you are. They are a reminder of whose you are. You belong to the One who went into the ground and walked out again.

Lent is not a spiritual self-improvement program. It’s not about proving your devotion with stricter habits or impressive discipline. It’s about coming back to the basics:

I am dust.
I am a sinner.
I need a Savior.

And I have One.

Honest self-awareness opens the door to transformation. Not self-hatred. Not despair. But honesty. The kind that says, “Without Jesus, I am lost.” And the kind that hears Him whisper back, “With Me, you are found.”

Ash Wednesday is an invitation.

Come and see your need.

Not to wallow in it.
Not to be crushed by it.
But to let it lead you to the cross.

Because when you finally stop pretending you’re strong enough, you discover something better: Grace.

Why Meeting Jesus Changes Everything

February 16, 2026 / / 0 Comments

A man named Nicodemus came to visit Jesus in the dark of night. Not necessarily because he was being sneaky. Well, maybe a little. There could have even been a little bit of fear that caused him to come at night. A respected teacher, a Pharisee, a man who knew the Scriptures inside and out, he thought he knew God. And yet, here he was, creeping through the shadows, hoping to “see” Jesus without anyone noticing.

Sound familiar? We like to think we know Jesus. We can quote verses. We can talk theology. We can even sit in our church pew week after week and feel okay with life. But knowing about Jesus isn’t the same thing as knowing Jesus. Nicodemus knew Jesus as a teacher. He knew the miracles, the parables, the wisdom. He didn’t yet know the revolution that Jesus was bringing. It was a revolution that starts inside, in the hidden places of your heart, and changes the trajectory of your life.

Jesus didn’t sugarcoat it: “Unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Not almost born. Not sort of born. Not born once and “good enough.” Born again. From above. Spirit-born. A transformation that flips the old life upside down and starts something entirely new.

Here’s the thing about baptism. It’s a two-part story. First, there’s the water. That’s the repentance baptism John preached. It was a public declaration that says, “I see my sin. I turn away from it. I’m ready for change.” That’s important. Don’t skip it. But if it stops there, you’ve missed half the message.

The second part? The Spirit. That’s the new birth. That’s the awakening. That’s God taking residence in you, establishing a new relationship that you didn’t earn, can’t manipulate, and can’t outgrow. Water points backward in and to repentance. But the Spirit points forward to transformation.

One cleans the slate, the other writes a new story. And the story starts in the darkest place. The exact place where Nicodemus found himself because the night is when the Spirit whispers. The night is when the truth breaks through. The night is when real life begins.

This isn’t a casual invitation either. It’s an all-in call. When Jesus asks, “Do you want to be born again?” He’s not offering a weekend seminar. He’s offering new life, new perspective, and a new heartbeat.

And yes, that comes with risk. Comfort zones die. Old habits crumble. But the alternative of staying in the half-light of knowing Him only as a teacher is a life lived small, afraid, and totally missing the Kingdom of God.

So where are you today? Are you creeping through the shadows like Nicodemus, afraid of what people might think? Or are you stepping into the light, into the Spirit, into the new life Jesus offers?

Water. Spirit.
Repentance. Awakening.
Teacher. Savior.
You can know Him one way or you can know Him in a way that changes everything.

The choice isn’t subtle. And neither is the life He’s offering.

« Older posts

© 2026 derrickhurst.org

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑