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The Discipline of Deadlifts and Devotion

Confession time: I hate leg day. Yep. Hate it with a passion!

Give me chest, shoulders, or biceps, and I’m good to go. But leg day? No thanks. That’s the day I suddenly feel the urge to take a rest day.

It’s not that I can’t do squats or deadlifts. Actually the moves aren’t hard at all and I can handle a decent amount of weight. I just don’t want to. They’re uncomfortable. They burn. They make it hard to sit or stand the next day. Heck they make me question all my life choices.

But you know what happens when you skip leg day too often? You start to look like a man riding a chicken. You’re all big up top, tiny at the bottom, unstable when life gets heavy.

And honestly, that’s what a lot of Christians look like spiritually. Strong in the more visible areas like church attendance, Christian talk, surface-level kindness that better not interrupt my day. But all too often weak in the parts that actually carry the weight.

Because real faith, like real strength, is built from the ground up.

The Apostle Paul wrote, “Train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way.” (1 Timothy 4:7–8, ESV) He wasn’t talking about how we handle ourselves at the gym. He was talking about discipline. The kind of commitment that builds unseen strength.

It’s the same in devotion. Everybody loves the mountaintop moments! You know the powerful worship set, the answered prayer, the goosebumps of God’s presence. But not many people love the grind. The leg day of the spiritual walk. Things like showing up to Scripture when it feels dry, praying when nothing visible is happening, serving when nobody seems to notice.

That’s spiritual leg day. It’s not fun. It’s not flashy. But it’s what gives your faith stability when life drops something heavy on your shoulders.

The older I get, the more I realize: Faith that skips leg day looks good in the mirror but collapses under pressure.

So yeah, I still hate deadlifts. But I do them. Not because I like them, but because I need what they build. The endurance, humility, and strength where it counts.

The same goes for devotion. God’s not impressed by how spiritual you look up top. He’s shaping the foundation underneath.

So show up. Do the not so – glamorous work. Train your soul as much as your body.
Because when life gets heavy (and it will), you don’t want to be the spiritual guy or gal riding a chicken!

Lessons on Grace: Mowing Through Life’s Messes

Ok so I don’t rake leaves. I have far too many. Raking would be like trying to bail the Titanic with a coffee mug. So I use a blower. Well, that’s not even totally true because most of the time I’m just too lazy to blow that many leaves. I typically just mow them over and hope for the best. I’d need a blower the likes of a jet engine to handle the leaves properly and I’m too cheap to buy anything like that. Even though it would be fun to have!

Every fall, I spend hours in the lawn, mowing over piles of leaves and sending the clippings into a nice pile. Just to watch the next gust of wind scatter them back all over the yard.

And somewhere between the noise, the frustration, and the endless repetition, I realize: this is a picture of grace.

You see grace is a lot like blowing leaves. No matter how hard you try to get things perfectly clean, the mess keeps coming back. Then the second you think you’ve got it all under control. A mini vortex comes and messes it all up! So another pile, another reminder that this isn’t a one-time job.

I think that’s why Paul said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9, ESV) Grace isn’t about a clean yard. It’s about the constant presence of God’s strength in our endless weakness. The harder we try the more the wind of temptation or boredom tends to come in and blow us away.

And if I’m being honest, there are days I want to just quit! Not life but I want to stop fighting the leaves, stop cleaning up messes, stop trying to make life look tidy.
Then I remember. I can’t throw in the towel because grace doesn’t quit on me.

That’s what I remember every fall: Grace keeps showing up, leaf after leaf, sin after sin, failure after failure. It’s not neat. It’s not quiet. It’s not easy. But it’s real.

So now, when I hop on the mower and start another round, I don’t just see work. I see something like worship. Not the “hands raised, perfect harmony” kind. The kind that happens when you’re sweating through your hoodie. Covered in dust and leafy bits. Realizing that even in the noise and futility, God is there.

Because sometimes, the loudest reminder of grace comes with the roar of a zero turn and a cloud of leaf dust flying through the air.


Coming up next week: “The Discipline of Deadlifts and Devotion” where we’ll talk about why the gym might be one of the most honest places to learn about spiritual growth.

The Problem With Perfect Leaders

Let’s be honest, pastors can be some of the best actors around. Far too often we preach about authentic faith but live like we’re auditioning for Most Holy Person of the Year.

We smile even when we’re exhausted. We shake hands when we’d rather hide. We quote Scripture while quietly wondering if it still works the same for us as it does for everyone else.

The truth? Ministry can end up polishing the soul until it looks shiny from a distance but leaves the inside feeling…hollow.

And that’s not just a pastor thing. It’s a people thing. Leaders, parents, teachers, entrepreneurs, all of us! We’re all trying to hold it together in public while life leaks in private.

I’ve done it too. For years, I lived as though leadership meant never letting them see you bleed. But Jesus never modeled that kind of leadership. So why should I?

He wept. He sweat blood. He was betrayed, exhausted, misunderstood, and still chose to love.

That’s leadership. It’s not the filtered, staged version of leadership either. It’s the kind that bleeds grace.

So here’s where I’m landing these days: Leaders aren’t called to be impressive. We’re called to be honest.

When you stop pretending to have it all together, people stop pretending too.
And the cool part is, that’s when discipleship actually happens. It’s not when we hand out carefully crafted bullet points on leadership, but when we invite people to watch us wrestle with obedience, failure, and hope.

I’ve led well and led poorly. I’ve prayed hard and still felt dry. I’ve seen God move powerfully and then wondered why He felt silent the next day.

But through it all, I’ve learned that faith doesn’t thrive in perfection. It grows in the cracks. The broken places in our lives that look barren and yet are the perfect places for light to poke through.

I think of stained glass and how the broken shards of glass are the ones that cast the most amazing light refractions. The same is true for us. When we let the cracked parts of our lives become exposed to the grace of God, then the light of his presence refracts into the lives of those where we live, work, and play.

So if you’re leading anything. Yeah anything! From a church to a business even a family listen up: You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be present.

Show up. Tell the truth. Repent quickly when you mess up. Laugh often. Admit when you’re wrong. That’s leadership that looks like Jesus. And that’s the kind of faith the world actually needs.


Coming up later this week: “Blowing Leaves and Remembering Grace”  a post from the dirtier, simpler side of life where God keeps reminding me He’s not afraid of a mess.

What’s Next for the Blog (and Why I’m Excited About It)

I’ve heard a few questions about why shift the focus? And that’s a great question! I think of it like a freeway system. Having more lanes is often a great way to free up congestion. Well there’s a lot more to life than just the part we see on Sunday. And frankly, if I’m asking the people in my circle to share their lives with the people in their circles then I should show you how it works in my own life.

Over the years, derrickhurst.org has lived mostly in the world of pastoring and discipleship. I’ve focused pretty solely on sermons, theology, church leadership, and the occasional rant about spiritual apathy. And that’s been good. But lately, I’ve been pulled to a bit of a new focus: Discipleship isn’t limited to Sunday mornings and coffee-shop Bible studies.

It happens when I’m swinging a shovel.

It happens when I’m training at the gym or even in my garage. Yeah even those times when I want to quit.

It happens when I share a pour of bourbon and engage in honest conversation with a friend under the stars.

It even happens when I’m arguing with weeds that keep winning the war in my garden.

So, starting next week, this blog gets a bit of a reboot. It will be this same old guy writing, with the same love for Jesus, simply using a wider lens.

Here’s what you can expect:

The Rhythm

  • Two posts every week.
    One will usually hit on faith, leadership, or discipleship. We’ll still consider that the core stuff.
    The other will explore the discipled life in the real world. Things like fitness, property work, bourbon reflections, simplicity, or the things that make us human will all be up for discussion. Some posts will be longer and others fairly short. But they’ll all be real, authentic, and me.
  • Bonus posts will pop up when the mood strikes, because sometimes a thought just won’t wait for the schedule.

The Voice

Still me. Still bold. Still calling things what they are. Still unapologetic.

Some posts will make you think; some might make you laugh; a few might make you uncomfortable and that’s kind of the point. Growth rarely happens in comfort zones.

The Goal

To explore what it looks like to follow Jesus in all of life. Not just as a pastor. Not just in church. But as a husband, dad, coach, neighbor, lifter, bourbon-sipper, and steward of a little patch of Ohio dirt.

So if you’ve been around for the ministry side, stick with me. You’ll still get plenty of that.

And if you’ve been waiting for something a little more real-life and raw, well you’re about to get it.

Starting next week, we’ll dig into gratitude, growth, and grace from the pulpit and the backyard.

It’s time to get a little more honest, a little more human, and maybe a little more fun. See you next week. Bring your coffee. Or your gloves. Or your glass. You decide.

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