When Faith Gets Put on Trial

September 8, 2026September 8, 2026Leave a comment

There is something I have been noticing. It tends to surface after the prayers have been prayed, faith has been exercised, people have contended—and the ending still isn’t the one everyone asked for.

Eventually, someone starts looking for the variable. Maybe there wasn’t enough faith. Maybe doubt got in the way. Maybe someone didn’t believe hard enough.

I have heard enough variations of that idea to think it is worth naming. Somewhere along the way, some corners of the Church created an equation Scripture itself never gave us:

Desired outcome = sufficient faith.
Undesired outcome = insufficient faith.

To be fair, the equation did not appear from nowhere. Jesus tells us to believe when we pray. James warns about asking while doubting. Hebrews tells us that without faith it is impossible to please God. The Gospels even contain moments when Jesus directly confronts unbelief. Those passages matter. Faith matters. Unbelief matters.

I believe God hears us when we pray. I believe He draws near. I believe He heals, restores, delivers and intervenes. I believe we should ask boldly, contend earnestly and invite God to expose unbelief wherever it has taken root in us. But Scripture does not permit us to turn those truths into a formula.

There is a garden just outside Jerusalem where that formula falls apart.

The Cup Didn’t Pass

Jesus entered Gethsemane in anguish and prayed, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me.”

Then He prayed again. And again. Luke tells us that His anguish intensified and that He prayed even more earnestly.

The cup did not pass.

Was the problem Jesus’ faith? Of course not. Jesus’ faith was perfect. And somehow, perfect faith looked like weakness that night. It looked like anguish, persistence, dependence and surrender:

“Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”

The unanswered request was not evidence of deficient faith. His persistence was faith. His surrender was faith. His trust in the Father while standing inside unbearable anguish was faith. That distinction matters.

Sometimes we treat surrender as the fine print beneath believing prayer—as though “Your will be done” is what we say when we are afraid to expect too much. Gethsemane suggests something very different.

Surrender itself is an expression of faith.

Prayer is worship because prayer acknowledges something fundamental: God is God, and I am not. He invites our participation. He teaches us, encourages us and empowers us. He tells us to ask. But partnership is not parity. God did not surrender His sovereignty when He invited us to pray.

When Faith Becomes About Us

This is where an inflated theology of faith can subtly shift the center of gravity. Faith stops being trust in God and begins becoming confidence in our ability to produce an outcome: my faith, my declaration, my certainty, my ability to receive.

Eventually, God begins looking less like Father and more like a mechanism: apply sufficient belief and receive the requested result.

But faith is not currency. God is not a genie. Grace is not wages for believing correctly.

Paul learned this when he repeatedly asked God to remove his thorn. The thorn remained. Christ answered, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Apparently grace can be sufficient even when the thorn remains.

Romans 8 tells us something similar. The Spirit helps us in our weakness, even when we do not know how to pray as we ought. Notice where grace enters the story—not after we overcome helplessness, but inside it.

Even the desperate father who cried, “I believe; help my unbelief!” discovered that Jesus was willing to meet a man whose faith and doubt somehow occupied the same sentence. Helplessness is not a disqualification from grace.

That should make us extraordinarily careful about placing additional weight on people who are already suffering. There is enough vulnerability in asking God for something we cannot fix ourselves. When the answer does not resemble what was prayed for, the Church should be very cautious before adding an indictment to the grief.

Same Faith. Different Outcomes.

Hebrews 11 makes that caution unavoidable. Some people, through faith, conquered kingdoms, escaped the sword and received back their dead. Others, through faith, were imprisoned, tortured, afflicted and killed.

Scripture commends them all. Same faith. Different endings.

Faith was never intended to function as a mechanism through which we control God. It is trust in God.

That is why the words of the three Hebrew exiles in Daniel remain so powerful. They believed God was able to deliver them from the furnace. And then came the words that kept faith from becoming entitlement:

“But if not…”

God is able. But if not, He is still God.

That is not unbelief. Sometimes it is one of the bravest expressions of faith available to us.

Don’t Put Their Faith on Trial

So ask. Believe. Contend. Keep praying when the answer has not come. Ask God to expose unbelief and deepen your trust. Believe that He can intervene in ways only He can.

But when someone else’s cup does not pass, resist the temptation to put their faith on trial.

Sometimes grace removes the thorn. Sometimes grace becomes sufficient while it remains. Sometimes what God is doing becomes clearer years later. And some answers may require eternity.

Romans 8 does not promise that we will understand everything that happens to us. It promises something larger: that God is at work even while creation groans.

Our faith is ultimately in the Lord—not our ability to secure the outcome we prayed for.

God is able. And even if not, He is still God.

Gethsemane led to a cross. And for a little while, the cross looked like the end of the story.

It wasn’t.

When Grace Clocks In: Grief, Disability, and the Workplace

September 3, 2026September 3, 2026Leave a comment

There are phrases you forget. Others hang around.

This one came from a leader two gigs ago. Years later, it still hasn’t left:

“An above-average series of unfortunate events.”

Interesting way to put it. Especially when you know what the “events” were.

My daughter had died.

Jubilee spent 393 days in the NICU. For more than a year, our family learned to live somewhere between home, work, church and a hospital room. Then she was gone, and we had to figure out how to live in a world that kept moving without her.

Money was tight. Really tight. I kept working. Kept functioning. I donated plasma on my lunch breaks for extra money until one day I nearly passed out afterward. Something inside me was running out of road, and I didn’t understand why.

I know more now.

Earlier this year, my spectrum results came in. Suddenly, parts of my life that had never quite made sense started talking to each other. The masking. The exhaustion. The mental real estate consumed by unresolved conflict. The invisible cost of navigating environments that seemed to cost other people almost nothing.

Then I looked back at that season: bereavement, financial pressure, neurodivergent burnout. All stacked on top of each other before I even had the language to understand why my own wiring made some of that weight so costly to carry.

So, sure. “Unfortunate events.” Might as well call a hurricane an above-average amount of wind and rain.

I don’t believe that leader was trying to be cruel. I can’t know everything behind the words. But intent isn’t really why the phrase stayed with me. It stayed because language can be technically defensible and still be painfully inadequate for the human being standing underneath it.

That’s where I’ve landed on something I wish more leaders understood:

Context isn’t the enemy of accountability.

I haven’t always communicated as clearly as I could have, and I certainly haven’t navigated every professional situation perfectly. Being neurodivergent doesn’t absolve me of responsibility. Neither does grief. But context isn’t an escape hatch from accountability. Understanding someone more fully makes accountability more accurate.

If somebody who was once engaged suddenly isn’t, get curious. If performance changes after catastrophic loss, get curious. If someone trusts you enough to disclose a disability, get curious.

Not “What’s wrong with this person?” but “What’s happening to this person?”

I’ve started calling that holy curiosity.

There was real kindness during Jubilee’s 393 days. Coworkers gave their time. People helped me get to the NICU. My employer gave our family flexibility during an impossible season. Distance has helped me appreciate those things more, not less.

I’m also a words-of-affirmation person. Looking back, I can see times when I was waiting for care to arrive in the language I understood best while missing some of the ways people were already speaking it. That’s mine to own.

But kindness and understanding aren’t necessarily the same thing. The fairest way I know to say it is this: I received more kindness than I knew how to appreciate at the time, but less intentional understanding than I needed.

We also understand neurodivergence differently than we did when I was growing up. People like me can make it through school, relationships and entire careers without understanding why seemingly ordinary environments exact such an extraordinary internal cost.

We know more now. That should make us more curious now.

We talk about grace. Truth. Mercy. Restoration. Bearing burdens. Eventually those words have to clock in. They have to survive somebody’s grief affecting performance, somebody’s disability complicating communication, somebody making a mistake, somebody becoming inconvenient.

Jesus had a way of refusing to reduce complicated people to the most immediately visible thing about them. He noticed. He asked. He moved toward suffering.

Maybe that’s where better leadership begins too.

There is another place where this conversation matters just as deeply: the church. Faith communities can be remarkably good at showing up when tragedy arrives. But what happens when the meals stop, the crisis passes, and grief or special needs simply become part of a family’s everyday life? That’s where I want to go next—in Part Two, When the Church Moves On.

Cultivating Compassion: The Power of Empathy at Work (Part 1)

May 3, 2025May 5, 2025Leave a comment

When we assess intelligence in the marketplace, we often refer to one’s aptitude. If one can critically think and problem-solve under pressure, chances are they’re qualified enough to do the job. But in an increasingly tolerant and diverse era, executive priorities are changing. Long gone are leadership committees prioritizing the paper and potential. These days, employers are not only looking to scale one’s ability to reason but also their capacity to relate to colleagues, clients, and social climates.

Essentially, while intellectual ceilings are still being explored, how one nurtures endurance is being implored all the more. In the construct of empathy, this promotes some imperative questions with candidates. Are they willing to broaden their perspective to extend awareness and morale? Can they pierce through emotional dissonance in high-stress situations? Are they able to resonate with the thoughts and feelings of others?

As for those in leadership, are we taking thorough inventory? Have we corporately inquired, ‘What space are we making for cognitive empathy in our workplaces? Heck, do we even know how to define and refine it, let alone shine it?‘

Regardless, to best answer these inquiries, we must start our examination in the Word. As always, let’s dive in…

Although empathy is not directly stated in Scripture, the concept is conveyed through the behaviors of Jesus and apostolic teachings on love, kindness, and understanding (Romans 12:15, 1 Peter 3:8, Philippians 2:4, and 1 John 3:17-18). While secular approaches paint empathy as little more than emotional sensitivity and selfless concern, when we consider the empathy of Christ, we discover how the virtue goes beyond shared feelings into hands-on support.

One of my favorite examples of this takes place in Luke 13:10-17. In this passage, we find Jesus teaching in the synagogue on the Sabbath when he notices a woman with a disabling spirit. Unable to stand up straight, the woman seeks him in desperation anticipating her deliverance. Upon seeing her, Jesus calls her over, declares her freedom, and proceeds to heal her condition. No longer crooked, she gives glory to God stunning the Sanhedrin.

To me, this story has profound implications in the marketplace. For starters, if we want to lead effectively, we must seek the Lord and apply what He loves with whom He loves. As John 15:13 alludes, no greater love has no hidden agenda, and we must abide accordingly. As leaders, we shouldn’t wait for opportune moments to find us. Rather, we should pursue them with aligned surrender and humility. Christ in us, we don’t need to prove our solicitude, but with eager attentiveness, comfort those who struggle and rejoice with the joyful, allowing our fear of God to be set in motion. In this life, there will be times when we must bear another’s burdens; however, there will also be moments when we must enter into the victory God is unlocking within us as well as those around us. Hence, the significance of empathy in that it keeps us ready to act selflessly in any circumstance!

Furthermore, if we desire empathy, we must aspire to inspire unity in community. Depending on your vocation, this may involve relating to a customer’s experiences, playing peacemaker between colleagues, or offering help on a challenging project. No matter the opportunity, empathy allows you to take heart as you give heart. Within boundary and bandwidth, you can enter into one’s grief, talk to those who may be lonely or hurting, even approach correction with compassion. Honestly, the possibilities are endless!

Bottom line: You have a valuable part in not only enhancing the well-being of your colleagues but also improving the health of your workplace culture. Applying Scripture to your surroundings, you have everything to gain living like Jesus. The more empathy abounds, the more peaceful and effective your organization will be. No need to fear what others say or think as long as your aim is anchored to the voice and heart of God. As for those wrestling with idolatry in the form of craving influence, remember Jesus didn’t passively connect to gain followers but intentionally pursued the salvation and heart change of others. May it be so in our respective surroundings as we believe and minister in greater confidence!

Stay tuned next time when I’ll break down different types of empathy and tie them to various Scriptures and scenarios. Until then…

Selah.

Cover graphic creds: PeopleTalk Online

3 Ways to Overcome Labeling at Work

August 31, 2020September 2, 20201 Comment

Labels.

They can be tough to handle. As one who has endured his fair share, my heart is sensitive to those wrestling with identity, to those struggling in the shadow of slander and prejudice. While some people know the truth of who you are, the fact is many are in the dark to what makes them unique. And if we’re to mature in wisdom and influence within our communal arenas, how we stand firm when assailed by this demographic is worth discussion.

Regardless of what we do or where we’re at, whenever vulnerability strikes, having a game-plan is vital in our quest to be more than conquerors (Romans 8:37). Accordingly, here are three ways we can bust the boxes people put us in and prevent their labels from becoming our tags.

1. Anchor Your Belief

Before we take any action, the best way to deal with backbiting is to resist fear through the Scriptures. While how we respond as follow-through is important, how we react in the moment is just as, if not more, crucial. Here’s a check-down of some verses I quote when I sense typecasting, favoritism, or neglect:

“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity or cowardice or fear, but [He has given us a spirit] of power and of love and of sound judgment and personal discipline [abilities that result in a calm, well-balanced mind and self-control].” ~ 1 Timothy 2:7 (AMP)

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us.” ~ 1 John 4:18-19 (ESV)

“I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears.” ~ Psalm 34:4 (ESV)

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” ~ Philippians 4:6 (ESV)

Note how this is merely a shortlist; obviously, you can customize your ‘fear resistant’ prayer guide however you please. Just be advised when you’re on the clock in real-time, our tendency to misread and misjudge what we observe is constantly tested; hence, why it’s important not only to know what you believe but also how to take captive what doesn’t align.

Bottom line: When you suspect attitudinal shifts, be slow to believe what you perceive. Don’t be afraid to resist unnecessary judgments, labels, and deceptions. Even if all you can do initially is defer, defer in faith with the hope of casting all anxieties on the Lord (1 Peter 5:7)

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2. Pray into the Offense

When we suspect people are labeling us, it’s hard not to take offense. Even if we can’t prove a typecast, the temptation to rationalize what we’re sensing is real, sometimes tantalizing. I know for me, when I perceive a relational distancing from colleagues or co-workers, I start to crave reconciliation before it’s necessary. On one level, I feel a surge of self-perseveration desperate to find a reason why; on another, I’m frustrated to have to own anything in the first place. It’s like a winless tug-of-war: I want to be heard, understood, and not given up on, but in case those fears verify, I want to, at least, be the next best thing…to be right. Not exactly a sustainable formula if community is to be a pure pursuit.

For those wondering why the transparency: I have no problem being vulnerable because I know I’m not alone. The fact is in most cases, insecurity fuels our offenses and if we don’t acknowledge and repent of them, they can pollute our view of relationships, identity, place and purpose, etc.

So what then? If people are nice one day and suddenly stop acknowledging our existence the next, we’re supposed to keep our mouth shut and be okay with it? Well, no, I’m not saying we neglect the opportunities to bridge divides. Conversely, I’m saying if grudges or walls emerge, we must first lean on God’s understanding to accurately see the situation. From there, we can take rest knowing we’re proactively sowing peace as opposed to reactively striving for peace. For there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus. Through Him, we can persevere in prayer and thanksgiving that all men be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth (1 Timothy 2:1-5).

Bottom line: Seek correction before direction. Let God be the space between your hurts and emotions. Release the want to control, manipulate, and be a victim. All the while, pray into the offense and don’t be overcome by the absence of good. Rather be the good in the voids you sense, real or imagined.

3. Turn the Cheek…and the Tide

For most of us, we’re familiar with Matthew 5:38-40:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is . But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well.”

While the general meaning of this passage is to approach evil in the opposite spirit, the concept of turning the other cheek can still be confusing. Is Jesus suggesting we tolerate the presence of malice, gossip, passive-aggressiveness, even silos in our workplaces? Is he hinting we embrace suffering and survivalism as socially acceptable? Not at all. Au contraire, he’s implying we encourage all people through a double portion of his nature.

For instance, if we encounter a void of good, when people are intentionally forsaking us, don’t respond by doing the same. Why lower your standards and behaviors to a level outside your faith? Instead, know your power source and abide in the current of his grace. In this way, you defuse offense, inspire virtue as a contagious overflow, and preserve what needs to be said in a spirit of love.

Bottom line: In the presence of evil, in the absence good, you can’t turn the tide if you don’t turn the cheek. Don’t live in defeat in a moment’s heat but be true to what is right as you stir others to do the same.

Selah.

Stay tuned next time when I’ll dive back into my ‘Trinity as Structure‘ series to discuss the Trinity’s influence on teamwork. For now, I bid you adieu with an inspiring video from New Hope Church:

Cover photo creds: https://medium.com

Say the Words: The Bridge Between Forgiveness and Identity

February 15, 2020February 16, 2020Leave a comment

Okay, so I know I promised a ‘part 2’ in my last post; however, I figured a) I’d delay for some storytime and b) You guys wouldn’t mind a change of pace. Accordingly, I’ll retarget the aforementioned sequel to next weekend.

So yesterday, I’m eating lunch with some colleagues when suddenly an open question becomes an answer to my silence. An opportunity to share now a moment to care…just without the words.

Deep down, my subconscious begins to skew…

‘I thought they said life wasn’t supposed to a spectator sport? I should be in the game, not the sidelines! Why did I accept this invitation anyway?’

Granted, I’m embarrassed having assumed the question was for me when it was for someone else. Still, I’m desperate to quench this oral craving. Time to take the plunge and jump in, I think to myself.

And so I do. Five minutes in…the first unforced tangent, I carpe diem the crap out of it. Like an open book, I’m elated knowing where I’m going, where I’m stopping, and where I’m headed in this midday manuscript.

‘What could go wrong’, I wonder. ‘I just need to wrap up my say and head back to the bleachers. Get in, get out, and go home happy.’

And for a while I’m right. After a relay question to stitch the rabbit trail, I‘m not only out, but home happy – the start of 18 hours of muted conscious.

That is until this morning’s 5:30 am wake-up call – a muffled ‘Beautiful Day’ ringtone softened by the tune of leftfield conviction.

“You totally hijacked that conversation,” I hear.

Sensing that familiar twilight echo, I quickly realize God is talking to me.

“When you go to work today, make sure you apologize to the person you cut off.”

*Sigh* “Okay, God. I get it. You got it. Like my most popular Slack, ‘Will do’.”

Hours later, I’m back in the office, a couple convos into a steady rhythm when my time comes to apologize. Without hesitation, I pivot off a talk of the times to the words of the time.

“About yesterday. I know you probably thought nothing of it. Certainly didn’t mean anything by it. But I just gotta say…I totally hijacked that conversation yesterday. It would have been better for me to listen than chime in out of fear of not being heard. Will you forgive me?“

Like butter to burnt toast, I smell the melting – this friend of mine, a fairly recent acquaintance, touched by such sensitivity.

“Wow, you’re a man of God, aren’t you,” she says.

“Uhhh…yes. Yes, I am a man of God. This is true. Can’t argue…” I stagger.

At this point, I’m reeling like a teenage pop-fan in 2012, stunned by this one direction¹. In no way did I expect the dialogue to end up here of all places.

Yet, as I reflect back, maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised.

‘Cause truth is: Whether we’re owning a misgiving or repenting for a fault, asking for forgiveness always helps us rediscover who we are. Sure, we may feel like a horse being led to water, eager to rid ourselves the yoke of apology. But as I learned this morning, there’s not only grace behind an “I’m sorry”, but identity calibration as well.

As for the apology, some would say I had nothing to apologize about. But for me, I’m glad I had something to own. For when we own something, it only proves we’ve accepted what’s been given in the first place. And while this could look a number of different ways, I submit at the core of it all is a gentle, gracious reminder that we are loved in and through weakness. Even when we’re not perfect, there’s at least room to be perfected – the space in between the sweet spot of our identity.

Selah.

Later this spring, I’ll discuss this forgiveness/identity dichotomy in greater detail. For now, here are some verses we can revisit for next time…

“And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high.” ~ Luke 1:76-78 (ESV)

“Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” – Luke 7:47 (ESV)

“Anyone whom you forgive, I also forgive. Indeed, what I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, has been for your sake in the presence of Christ…”

~ 2 Corinthians 2:10 (ESV)