​In a recent interview, Reid Wiseman, commander of the 2026 Artemis II lunar flyby mission, said about his crew's return to Earth: "When I got back on the ship, I'm not really a religious person, but there was just no other avenue for me to explain anything or to experience anything, so I asked for the chaplain on the Navy ship to just come visit us for a minute. And when that man walked in - I'd never met him before in my life - I saw the cross on his collar, and I just broke down in tears."

One mistaken belief that believers in God can hold is that we must act as salespeople for God. And often that sales pitch can sound like a mandate to follow the believer's religion or theological framework.

When I walk out into a morning sunrise or look out over a mountain sunset, I wonder: who am I to believe God needs me to sell anything on his behalf?

Quite often, all God asks of me is to be prepared to answer questions that creation has invited God's created people to ask.
Sometimes our efforts to push people toward God stand in the way of their capacity to hear the invitation God has long been offering.

A chaplain did not barge into a room trying to convince Reid Wiseman what he should have seen, he showed up invited to listen and to add hope to what Wiseman saw.

Too often what we pressure people to see in God doesn't begin to compare to what God has already shown them.

God does not need us to believe in him.

God does not need us to convince others to do so.

But God does love inviting us all to do so.

Sadly it's often the believers who stand in the way of non-believers hearing the invitation.

​I went to see a special 30th anniversary showing of Jerry McGuire last night. There's an iconic scene at the end of the movie when Dorothy tells Jerry McGuire: "You had me at hello."

Something hit me powerfully in that scene that hadn't hit me as powerfully the dozen times I'd seen the movie before. When Dorothy is saying "You had me at hello," she is surrounded by a sizable group of divorced women who'd all had to say goodbye to their marriages.

It made me wonder - fictionally speaking - are Dorothy and Jerry still married? Are they celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary this year? Or did they, like so many of the people in the room with them, have to learn to say goodbye?

I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve seen Jerry McGuire since my marriage ended six years ago. So maybe I wasn’t just watching the scene -maybe in some way I was sitting in that room.

I wonder if the women listening heard Dorothy's words with some cynicism. I wonder if they, like me, were all too aware that "hello" is the easy word to say in a marriage. We romanticize the moment of connection - “you had me at hello” - but relationships are built - or broken - by the words that come after.

I fully know the power of "you had me at hello." I dated my ex-wife for less than 5 months then flew off to the Virgin Islands and got married. We knew the love language of connection quite well, emotional peak, our struggle came with with maintaining it.

"I had you at hello" can be deceiving. It can tempt you to believe marriage will always be as simple as hello. It's not. Because more important than hello, you have to be able to say things like:

“I was wrong.”

“Can you help me understand?”

“I feel ___, and I don’t fully know why yet.”

“I need…”

“I hear you.”

“Thank you for…”

“I’m scared that…”

“What do you need from me right now?”

“Let’s try again.”

“I still choose you.”

These were words not often - if ever - said in my marriage by either of us. I read them like a foreign language in our story. And when you can't find these words in a relationship, it's a steep and painful fall from "you had me at hello" to goodbye....

It occurred to me last night just how many love story movies end at the hello part. The emotional peak. They end at the promise of happily ever after without ever following the promise.

Maybe Dorothy and Jerry are still together. Maybe their hello has indeed turned into happily ever after. If so, I think that would make for a great sequel.

Maybe one I and many of us need to see.

Be reminded of the part where they fall in love - yes - but more importantly, the part where they learn how to stay.

​I heard Jerry Seinfeld say something recently that stuck with me:

“I want to put a smile on as many faces as I can. That’s a pretty good life if you get to be someone doing that.”

That sounds simple. Almost too simple. And maybe that’s why we miss it.

Because most of us didn't wake up this morning with a goal to make someone smile. We woke up thinking about productivity. Progress. Performance. We thought about what we need to accomplish, fix, earn, or prove.

We woke up to chase things we can measure. Things we can point to. But somewhere along the way, is it possible that we start overlooking something that can’t be tracked?

A smile.

We treat that like a small thing. But what if it isn’t? What if making someone smile is one of the most powerful things we can do in a day?

There’s a part of me that wonders if we are building lives full of achievement while quietly starving something essential inside all of us. Because we can become successful without being kind. We can become prosperous without being present. We can reach goals that impress people without ever truly connecting with them.

Is it possible to become prosperous without ever making someone smile? And if so, how big will our smile be in the middle of our prosperity?

Jerry Seinfeld has certainly been prosperous, but his prosperity has been built on the foundation of smiles. And so he smiles.

I don’t think we were created just to accumulate. I think we were created to connect. And sometimes connection doesn’t look like deep conversation or life-changing moments. Sometimes it looks like eye contact. A kind word. A moment of being seen.

Sometimes it looks like a smile.

We don’t always know the weight someone else is carrying when we cross paths with them. We don’t know how long it’s been since they felt noticed. Or valued. Or light. Which means something as simple as making them smile might not be small at all.

It might be the thing that breaks through a heavy day.

The thing that reminds them they’re not invisible.

The thing that shifts the momentum or a darkness we can't see.

Maybe the life we’re chasing isn’t found in the big things we’re striving for, but in the small things we keep overlooking. Maybe a good life isn’t just measured by what we build. But by how many faces we soften along the way.

Make it a priority. Soften a face today.