​I have always marveled at Elliott's eyes in this baby picture. Less than a day old, and his eyes are staring the world down. As if dreaming of chasing down all that can be seen.

Babies do that, don't they? If they see it, they chase it. It's why we parents lock cabinets and put 'do-not-ingests' on the highest shelves.

But at some point, for most, the chasing stops.

I've wondered lately, what happens first. Do we stop seeing, do we stop having visions, or do we lose the courage to go after what we see?

I think I believe it's the latter.

Baby Elliott's 12-hour old seeing involved no analytics. There is no calculation in his gaze. There is no memory of disappointment. No voice whispering, "Careful." There's simply seeing followed by going. Instinct. As if vision is all the momentum one needs to take a step.

What changes? Trust?

Do we start attaching footnotes to what we see?

Yes, but last time...

Yes, but who am I to think....

Yes, but I know how this ends.

I don't think vision ever goes away, but belief does. And without belief, seeing can become cruel rather than inviting. So we protect ourselves - not by closing our eyes, but by staying put.

I've always loved the innocence in this picture of Elliott. He hasn’t learned yet that going can cost you something. He hasn’t learned to wrestle with fear. He hasn’t learned that going sometimes leads to more hiding than chasing.

I don't think we all need to return to our baby picture age of innocence. But I do think many of us need to recover some permission in our lives.

Permission to go again, even with scar tissue. Permission to believe that failure doesn't need to blur our vision, it can deepen it. Permission to trust that what we see now isn't foolish just because something else didn't work before.

Elliott could see, but he really didn't know where he was going. He just knew life was moving toward him and he was allowed to meet it.

I've learned, in no small part from being a dad to a baby, that growing older isn't about seeing less. It's about learning, slowly and courageously, how to go anyway. 

​I have avoided shifts in my life out of fear that I'm not prepared to make them. And often, that fear has come from a fear that I won't have the provisions necessary to keep moving forward.

I am discovering that this fear of not being provided for can stand in the way of an important truth: that God has already provided me far more than I've recognized. Or honored.

For the last several decades, I have been writing. I thought I was just writing. In reality, God was providing.

For the last decade, I have been teaching and presenting and public speaking. I thought I was just doing my job. But in reality, God was providing.

And not just providing for the day or week or the month, but for the future. For so often we think of provisions as cashflow, but God more often thinks of provisions as preparing out gifts and talents to flow.

Too often we think of provisions as all that we need to stay alive, when often God is providing us with all we need to make the world come alive.

God is not nearly as invested in our survival as he is in the impact that happens because of it.

Maybe we don't feel prepared. We don't feel ready. But many times that is a great myth of our own creating. God has been providing the way much longer than we've been willing to take it. Because we don't feel prepared.

God doesn't need us to know that we are prepared for a shift, he needs us to believe he's already provided all we need to make the shift possible.

Not feeling prepared is not always a good reason to sit still. It's okay to feel confused about the future, but with God, we can feel confidently confused.

Make the shift.

While many of us were braving winter storms this weekend, Alex Honnold was climbing the 1,667-foot skyscraper Taipei 101 in Taiwan, setting a record for the biggest urban free solo climb in history.

He scaled up the outside of the building without ropes or safety nets. For 1 hour, 31 minutes, and 34 seconds, Honnold clung to and climbed the outside of one of the tallest buildings in the world, knowing full well that any slip would surely be a final slip.

Oh, and all while it was streaming live on Netflix.

I found the picture below fascinating. A man inside the building photographing Honnold while he was climbing outside. What was the photographer thinking?

What did he see?

Did he see a superhuman, or a human doing super things?

Did he see a man too crazy to know the risks of climbing without ropes, or a man who'd become so sure of what he was capable of that he no longer needed ropes?

Did he wonder at all what he might be capable of if he'd let go of his need for safety and take a few more risks of his own in life?

I wonder all of these things about the photographer because these are some of the things I wondered about myself when watching highlights of the climb yesterday.

I don't think we're all supposed to go climb skyscrapers without ropes (most of us probably shouldn't even attempt it WITH ropes). But I think it's always worth considering what ropes we're still clinging to that might be worth dropping. What are we taking pictures of that we could be doing instead? How much of our lives have we turned over to being in awe in exchange for not creating awe?

I love watching other humans do what looks like superhuman things. It leaves me wondering how much super I'm leaving untapped inside this human.

We're not all meant to climb buildings, but I think we're all capable of climbing a little bit more than we currently climb. By all means, keep photographing and celebrating the humans around you, just don't forget to climb all that you are made to climb.

​In writing my memoir, I confess, there have been many chapters along the way that have stopped me and made me think - and at times say out loud to an empty apartment - what a messed up life you've lived.

When I reflect on the demons that invaded me along the way, and the demons I created to invade the world, I can't help but conclude at times that I have sure made waste of this one and only chance life will ever give me.

But then I pinch myself - a reminder - of all that God and I have made of the waste. For a moment, I look back and do not see demons, but instead - I see how far I have come.

We do that, I think. All of us. We spend so much time thinking about how far we have to go that we don't celebrate maybe the grandest reason for celebration in all of us - just how far we've come.

If you are reading this, you have defied odds in life. I am sure of it. You, like me, have had life stand against you on the way to where you are, and yet, here you are.

You've come a LONG way.

When we don't recognize that, the mile ahead can feel like a cross country drive. The year ahead can feel like centuries. The challenges standing against us can feel like the whole world standing against us.

I think there is great hope to be found in looking at the possibilities out in front of us. But I think the greatest source of fuel for realizing those possibilities is reminding ourselves just how far we've come.

Too often we look in the mirror and see the person the world has beaten up along the way. Maybe today look in the mirror and see the person the world couldn't find a way to knock out.

Look in the mirror and yes, see the person who has a long way to go, but as you turn and walk away, don't forget to congratulate her on just how far she's come!!

We've all come much further than often we give ourselves credit for.

​During an NCAA national championship post-game interview, Indiana University football's starting center - Pat Coogan - was asked:

"You didn’t just win a National Championship, you did it at Indiana, which at one point in time had the most losses in the history of the sport. You went from the bottom to the mountaintop. Give us a player’s view of what is it like to go on that journey?"

Coogan's answer was quite simple: "Yeah, well, I think it starts with belief, right? And sometimes that belief has to be a little irrational."

How many of us build our beliefs of what we think is possible, of what we think we are capable of, on what has already been proven to be possible? How many of us imagine the future based on what we've already seen in the past?

Many people will achieve something today that has never been achieved. Will that be because they were the first to imagine it, or the first to believe it could be done in spite of the fact it had never been done?

When making decisions in our lives, when setting goals, too many of us are way too rational. Too many of us let the facts of life stand in the way of what we might create or achieve in this life.

I'm not suggesting that we should all adopt a willy-nilly approach to our pursuits. But I am wondering, does over-thinking or over-analyzing stand in the way of some of us becoming who we might become. Might the world benefit from seeing a little more of our willy-nilly side?

Coogan was suggesting that "it's never been done" was certainly something for the players and coaches to consider when pursuing Indiana's first national championship in football, but the question is, how do you respond to such a consideration.

It's never been done so it must be impossible to do.

Or...

It's never been done so that means it's about time someone does it.

I'm not asking us all to be irrational today, but then again, maybe I am. When we make decisions based on what makes sense, we too often leave out the possibility of achieving something great that doesn't make any sense at all.

Something that's impossible to believe.

But something that DOES start with a belief - it's just a belief that might be a little irrational.

​I made a radical life decision this week. The nature of that decision is something to write about another day. For now let's just leave it at radical. Some might instead say unwise or stupid. Either way, blame it on the movies.

I've watched enough movies to know the most inspiring movies - the ones that leave me wanting to see them again - are the movies in which a character changes. Transform. Most often from bad to good -from challenged to overcoming - from hopeless to full of hope. And those changes always occur when the character jumps - or is thrown - into a situation that makes her or him sweat.

When I talked to friends about my decision, I told them that I know me well too well. I have a gift of adapting and settling into challenging situations, riding them out, embracing the discomfort. And as much as that CAN be a gift, it's an enemy of transformation.

When discomfort becomes more a friend that invites you to stay than a friend that kicks you out the door and yells get going, discomfort is no longer a friend. Discomfort becomes a villain standing in the way of where a hero is written to go.

I also know this about me - it's another gift of sorts, or curse - depending on how you look at it, but I know that when the building blows up, I WILL build a new building. Often bigger, better and maybe even in a more inviting location.

My problem is I too often wait around for someone else to blow the building up because I'm too afraid of explosions. I love it in the movies when the hero says, screw that, and grabs the dynamite and blows the whole scene to smithereens himself.

Sometimes we get too comfortable living in a world that feels like it's about to blow up. It can make us feel strong. And I'm not here to take away your strength, but I do want to encourage you that sometimes feeling like the world is about to blow up isn't a signal to button up, it's an invitation to blow it up.

Beat the world to the punch.

The older I get, the more I realize we too often spend our lives trying to tame life when life was never intended to be tamed. That's not to say that life is supposed to be one giant explosion, but sometimes the explosion is exactly what one needs.

It works in the movies, I've seen it.

And contrary to what some believe, more often than not, movies are based on real life.

​I had a conversation with a work colleague yesterday. The conversation was almost over when, somehow, we found ourselves talking about Chinese zodiac symbols. Actually, she did all the talking and I did all the listening, because I honestly know nothing about them.

But as she talked, I started getting goosebumps. It was as if our planned conversation had only been the warm-up, and this unplanned direction was what we were actually meant to talk about.

She told me that according to the lunisolar calendar used in China and much of East Asia, last year was the Year of the Snake and this year is the Year of the Horse. So what exactly does that mean?

As she described it, the Year of the Snake is associated with shedding skin (transformation), introspection, inner work and healing, patience, and renewal after loss. Snake years are often described as seasons when what was hidden becomes clearer, old identities are shed, and people process deep emotional or spiritual layers of their lives.

Nothing could describe my 2025 better than that.

So what about the Horse?

The Horse, she told me, is all about movement. Courage. Momentum. Taking risks and making decisions in line with your calling and purpose. It’s everything you might imagine in a horse in full gallop.

The Year of the Horse is when clarity turns into direction. It’s the year people feel called to run, build, act, launch, or leave. It’s when constraints loosen and energy feels uncontained and alive. As I’ve imagined my 2026, I have imagined it feeling like exactly that.

When our conversation ended, I didn’t feel an urge to run out and buy a Chinese zodiac calendar, but I did feel like God had put my friend on the other end of my screen for a reason. As I’ve stepped into this new year, I’ve felt an urge to climb on the horse in many areas of my life. Yesterday I heard God whisper:

“What are you waiting for?”

Did you shed anything last year that has left you feeling ready to gallop? Did you have a “snake year” that now has you ready to embrace the Horse?

If so, let me ask you:

What are you waiting for?

​If we’re not careful, winning can quietly sabotage our future.

Winning feels like proof that what I’m doing works. Which is great, unless it freezes us there. Unless it makes us stop experimenting, stop questioning, stop being curious.

Complacency rarely shows up as someone who is lazy, it more often shows up as someone who thinks they have it all figured out. I have heard it said that success breeds success. This is sometimes true. But it is also true that success can breed stagnation.

Losing begs you to have some conversations winning never begs for. Where am I weak? What am I avoiding? What habits do I have that are not sustainable? What coaches or mentors in my life have I stopped listening to?

Losing strips away the illusions we build around ourselves. It removes the idea that “I must be fine because it worked.” Sometimes winning can be dishonest, while losing tells the truth we don’t want to hear but desperately need.

Why am I writing this?

Because many of us are in the first week of a new year, already committed to “win more.” I don’t want us to become overconfident with the first win and assume we’ve arrived. And I don’t want us to be undone by the first defeat and assume we never will.

Sometimes losing is a better path to winning than winning is. Maybe even most of the time.

And maybe winning isn’t even the best goal. Maybe the better goal is becoming. Becoming demands that whether we’re winning or losing, we keep examining ourselves.

There are valuable lessons in both winning and losing. It’s just been my experience that we tend to ignore them when we’re winning, and we’re afraid to face them when we’re losing.

I truly hope you experience many wins in 2026. Just don’t be caught off guard if, along the way, you occasionally feel like a loser.

That feeling might be the very thing that grows you. 

​Maybe like me, you grew up imagining grace as the “cleanup crew” - something God sends in after we’ve blown it, a superpower that shows up with a mop, shakes its head, forgives us, and says, “Try again.”

In that view, grace is reactive. It only becomes necessary once we fail. Thankfully, it's an inaccurate view.

Megan Fate Marshman says, "Grace is not just God reacting to your failure, but initiating your future." Which means, grace is baked into our story from the beginning, not rushed in from the sidelines when we fall down.

Our failures don't show up on God's doorstep as a mess he's suddenly tasked to deal with, grace says God has already accounted for those failures and chooses daily to keep calling us forward in spite of them.

What a gift. If grace is already here, we don't have to live in fear of our next mistake. So many of us live with the anxiety that our next mistake will count us out, disqualify us.

Grace says failure is not a cliff we fall off of, but part of the terrain God already factored into our path. Grace says failure isn't the end of our calling, but part of the path to who God is calling us to become.

We are not walking a life littered with landmines ready to unexpectedly blow up our existence, but rather, with grace we are walking with a holy guide that always and forever knows the way though them. Before, during, and after the inevitable explosions.

Too often we imagine God saying, “Come back when you’re better.”

But grace says:

I am here in the confusion.

I am here in the relapse.

I am here in the numbness.

I am here in the unfinished story.

Grace doesn’t stand at the end of the road waving you home, grace walks the road with you.

Maybe you've made mistakes recently. Maybe you feel like your life is failing. Maybe you feel like you are in a place that is beyond any return. Maybe you feel like there is no way you can possibly earn the favor you long for.

Please be encouraged, grace says you already HAVE that favor.

Grace says there is more to your story than this moment, and it is grace that always has been, is, and forever will be bringing it to life. We don't have to wait on the cleanup crew to clear a way, grace cleared the way before we got here.

So go....

Go without fear of screwing it up; grace is right beside you.

​As I look ahead to the new year and start thinking about healthy life changes (resolutions), I find myself reflecting on one of the stories in the Frog and Toad Together series by Arnold Lobel: “Cookies.”

The Amazon plot summary of the story goes like this:

Toad finds a plate of cookies and shares them with Frog. As they enjoy the cookies, they realize they should stop eating them. They find it is very hard to stop eating the delicious cookies. Frog suggests they need willpower and puts the cookies in a box. Toad observes that they can still open the box. Frog ties string around the box, but Toad observes that they can cut the string and open the box. Frog climbs a ladder and places the box of cookies high up on a shelf, but Toad notes that they can climb the ladder, take the box down, cut the string, and open the box. Finally, Frog takes the cookies outside and offers them to a group of birds. Toad is horrified that the cookies are all gone, but Frog says they have no cookies but “lots and lots of willpower.” Toad replies, “You may keep all of it. I am going home now to make a cake.”

Many of us will soon pick resolutions for the new year. And my guess is many of us will plan to rely on more willpower - a stronger commitment to saying no to the cookies.

Only, in my experience, willpower is rarely enough.

Saying no to the cookies can feel impossible. So maybe this year, instead of trying harder, try feeding the cookies to the birds.

Spending less time on social media can feel impossible until you delete the apps - or better yet - put distance between you and your screen. A recent study of thousands of teens found that teens who kept their phones in another room while studying got better grades. Students who kept phones in another room while they slept got better sleep.

It is not a weakness to confess, “I don’t have the willpower to avoid this temptation.” It’s simply truth.

Few who crave alcohol or any substance have the willpower to say no to it. Keeping it nearby to “prove you can resist” is a losing strategy. It is much harder to crave what is out of sight, even if not out of mind.

Many of us will promise to “try harder” in challenging or even toxic relationships, when the reality is that the relationship may need to be fed to the birds. How many years now have you believed this will be the year it gets better?

Things can get better. They do get better. But rarely by trying harder inside environments that make better choices nearly impossible.

In the book of Matthew, Jesus says:

“If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell.”

To be clear, in Christian teaching this is widely understood as intentional exaggeration (hyperbole) - not a literal instruction to harm oneself - but a vivid way of saying:

Remove sources of temptation

Be decisive about what leads you astray

Change your environment and habits, not just your intentions

It’s Jesus’ way of saying: Feed your cookies to the birds.

As we go into 2026 and consider our resolutions, it may help to think less about fixing behavior through force of will and more about shaping environments that make healthier choices easier.

We make it harder to say no when we keep things in our life that beg us to say yes. Which is where resolution failures often begin - when the things around us are better at demanding yes than we are at saying no.

So get rid of those things.

Feed them to the birds.