“Public debt is a public curse.” — James Madison

America is facing a problem that few politicians want to talk about. Every election seems to bring more promises, more spending, more programs, more subsidies, more bailouts, and more debt. Politicians promise solutions to almost every problem, but very few explain who will ultimately pay the bill.

The Founding Fathers understood human nature. James Madison warned that people would naturally form groups and seek advantages for themselves through government. He understood that politicians would eventually discover it is easier to win support by making promises than by asking people to make sacrifices. More than two hundred years later, his warning seems more relevant than ever.

Today, elections often revolve around what government will provide. One group is promised debt relief. Another is promised housing assistance. Another receives subsidies, grants, or expanded benefits. Businesses seek bailouts. Industries seek special treatment. Nearly every major political debate eventually comes down to one question: who will receive government money and who will pay for it?

The problem is not helping people who are truly struggling. America has always been a compassionate nation. The problem begins when political success depends more on what can be given away than on what can be sustained. When promises become more important than responsibility, the foundation of a republic begins to weaken.

America’s national debt is a perfect example. Most people hear the word “trillion” and have no idea what it really means. A million seconds ago was about eleven days ago. A billion seconds ago was about thirty-two years ago. A trillion seconds ago was nearly 32,000 years ago. The point is simple: a trillion is not just a bigger billion. It is a number so large that most people cannot truly comprehend it. Yet America’s debt is measured not in millions or billions, but in tens of trillions of dollars.

History teaches that economic collapse does not begin with statistics. It begins in the home. Before the Great Depression, many Americans believed prosperity would continue forever. Then the economy collapsed. Banks failed, businesses closed, and millions lost jobs, homes, and savings. Fathers who had worked their entire lives suddenly found themselves unemployed. Homes were foreclosed. Families who once believed tomorrow would be better than today found themselves standing in bread lines wondering how they would feed their children. The lesson remains the same: when warning signs are ignored long enough, the consequences can arrive suddenly and painfully.

The greatest loss may not be financial. It may be the loss of hope. There is a difference between never having something and having it taken away. A family that has always struggled learns to live with hardship. But when people spend decades building a life, saving for retirement, buying a home, building a business, and pursuing the American Dream, only to watch opportunities disappear and financial security slip away, the emotional toll can be devastating. Stress rises. Anxiety grows. Marriages suffer. Depression increases. Some turn to alcohol, drugs, gambling, or other destructive escapes. Communities weaken as people lose confidence that tomorrow will be better than today.

When hope disappears, people stop dreaming, stop planning, and simply focus on getting through another day. The American Dream has never been about wealth alone. It is about hope—the belief that hard work, responsibility, and sacrifice will leave our children better off than we were. When that hope is lost, something far more valuable than money is taken away.

The real question facing America is not whether government should help people in need. The real question is whether we have become a nation that rewards promises without asking about the cost. Every benefit has a price. Every program has a cost. Every dollar borrowed today becomes an obligation tomorrow.

The future of America will not be determined by how much government can give away. It will be determined by whether enough citizens still understand that freedom requires responsibility, sacrifice, and stewardship. The Founders understood that truth. The question is whether we still do.

The debt is real. The bill is already coming due. We are already feeling the cost through inflation, rising prices, and increasing financial pressure on families. If we continue down this road, the burdens placed upon future generations will only grow heavier.

“The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.” — Proverbs 22:3

The warning signs are clear. We can still change course. We can stop rewarding promises and start demanding responsibility. We can vote not for what benefits us today, but for what strengthens America tomorrow. The choices we make today will determine the future our children and grandchildren inherit.

“Take your boys hunting while they are young, and you will not have to hunt for them when they are older.” — My Dad

As I reflected on our recent road trip, my thoughts kept returning to something I had noticed along the way. It was not the scenery or the places we visited that stayed with me. It was the conversations I overheard between fathers and their young sons. Some were excitedly talking about an upcoming hunting trip, while others were reliving one they had already shared. Listening to those conversations made me smile because I realized they were talking about much more than hunting. They were talking about time spent together.

Those conversations brought back memories of my own father. He often told me, “Take your boys hunting while they are young, and you will not have to hunt for them when they are older.” As a young man, I thought he was talking about hunting. It took me years to understand he was really talking about relationships. Hunting was never the lesson. It was simply the opportunity for a father and son to spend uninterrupted time together, building trust, sharing wisdom, and creating memories that would last long after the hunting season was over.

As I reflected on what my dad had taught me, I could not help but think about the old song Cat’s in the Cradle. The older I get, the more I realize that the song is not really about a father and son. It is about lost opportunities. It is the story of a father who was too busy to build a relationship while his son was young, only to discover later that time had quietly slipped away. My father’s advice was the exact opposite. He understood that the greatest investment a father can make is not measured in dollars earned or possessions accumulated, but in the time he spends with his children. One is a warning. The other is the solution.

Sadly, that lesson seems to be fading in our culture. Many fathers work hard to provide a good living for their families, but providing for a family is not the same as being present in one. Busy schedules, endless activities, and technology compete for our attention every day. Families can sit together in the same room while everyone is looking at a different screen. Some children grow up without a father in the home, while others grow up with a father who is physically present but emotionally absent. Relationships are not built by sharing the same address. They are built by sharing life.

The Bible reminds us in Proverbs 22:6, “Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it.” Direction requires more than words. It requires presence. Children learn by watching, listening, asking questions, and simply spending time with their fathers. Some of life’s greatest lessons are learned walking through the woods, riding down a country road, sitting around a campfire, or working side by side. Those ordinary moments often become the extraordinary memories that last a lifetime.

Looking back, I realize my father was never trying to teach me how to become a better hunter. He was teaching me how to become a better father. The greatest trophy was never the one we brought home from the woods. It was the relationship built along the trail. One day the hunting trips will end, the campfires will burn out, and little boys will become grown men with families of their own. The relationship you have with them then will be the one you chose to build today.

If there is one lesson I hope every father remembers, it is this: spend time with your children while they are young. Whether it is hunting, fishing, working in the garage, throwing a ball in the backyard, or simply sitting on the porch talking, the activity is never the most important part. The relationship is. My dad understood that truth many years ago, and I am grateful he passed it on to me. His advice was simple, but it may be one of the greatest lessons a father can ever teach his son.

“A government of laws, and not of men.” — John Adams

Over the past few days I have been reading about the controversy surrounding several San Francisco Giants players during the team’s Pride Night. Some of the players chose to express their Christian convictions by displaying the Scripture reference Genesis 9:12-16 on their Pride hats. What caught my attention was not the hats or even the disagreement that followed. It was how quickly the conversation turned to rights, discrimination, equality, and the Constitution. Everyone seemed convinced they knew what the Constitution required, but I found myself asking a much simpler question.

What does it actually say?

So I put the articles aside and opened the Constitution for myself. I searched for the words homosexuality, sexual orientation, Pride, and same-sex marriage. They are not there. I searched again, thinking perhaps I had overlooked something. I had not. Those words simply do not appear anywhere in our Constitution.

That did not answer every question our nation faces, but it did lead me to another one. If those words are not found in the Constitution, then why do so many people speak as though they are? Why is there an expectation that every American, every school, every business, every sports team, and every public institution must recognize or celebrate something that is not written in the document itself? Whether someone agrees or disagrees with Pride is not the point I am making. My question is much simpler. If our highest law does not say it, where does that authority come from?

The issue before us is much larger than one baseball team or one social movement. It reaches to the very foundation of our Republic. The Constitution has authority because it is written. Every word was debated, agreed upon, and ratified by the people. If we begin replacing written words with personal opinions or changing their meaning to fit the desires of the day, then we are no longer governed by the Constitution. We are governed by those who claim the authority to tell us what they believe it now means.

Our Founding Fathers understood that future generations would face issues they could never imagine. That is why they gave us a constitutional process to change the Constitution. If the American people believed something belonged in our highest law, they could amend it. They did not leave us free to change the meaning of the words whenever culture changed. They understood that the strength of a constitution is not found in how often it changes, but in how faithfully it is preserved.

God established the very same principle in His Word. Truth does not change because society changes. It does not bend to culture, public opinion, or the desires of the moment. God warns us not to add to His Word because the moment we begin changing what has been written, we no longer submit to His authority—we replace it with our own.

“Every word of God proves true. He is a shield to all who come to him for protection. Do not add to his words, or he may rebuke you and expose you as a liar.” — Proverbs 30:5–6 (New Living Translation)

The Constitution was not written to be redefined by every generation. It was written to be upheld, defended, and obeyed according to the words placed upon its pages. The same is true of God’s Word. Neither derives its authority from public opinion, changing culture, or the approval of man. Their authority rests in what has been written. The moment we claim the right to change the meaning of those words, we have placed ourselves above the very authority they were given to establish. That is how nations lose their foundation and how truth becomes whatever those in power declare it to be.

A nation does not lose its freedom by obeying the law that is written. It loses its freedom when it replaces the written law with the law it wishes had been written.

“Hard times create strong men. Strong men create good times. Good times create weak men. And weak men create hard times.”

A few days ago, I was visiting my sister when she asked if I would like some jelly on my toast. She walked into the kitchen and returned with a jar of homemade jelly she had canned herself. It was such an ordinary moment that most people would not have given it a second thought. Yet as I spread the jelly on my toast and listened to her talk about making it, I found myself thinking about what that simple jar represented. It was more than fruit and sugar preserved in a glass container. It was a reminder of a generation that understood preparation, stewardship, and personal responsibility in ways that are becoming increasingly rare today.

My sister was raised by people who remembered the Great Depression. They lived through difficult times when resources were limited, waste was unacceptable, and every possession had value. They learned to save because money was not always available. They learned to repair things because replacing them was often impossible. They learned to grow and preserve food because tomorrow was uncertain. Those lessons were not taught in classrooms or government programs. They were learned through experience and passed down through families. They understood that preparation was not motivated by fear but by wisdom. They recognized that difficult seasons eventually come to every generation and that the best way to face them is to prepare before they arrive.

The significance of that jar of jelly returned to me later as I read coverage of the New York elections and the commentary surrounding what the results supposedly meant for the future of our culture. The headlines seemed to go beyond reporting facts and into the realm of shaping public opinion. Readers were not simply being informed about what had happened. They were being encouraged to embrace a particular vision of society and a particular set of values.

Increasingly, it appears that many in the media see themselves not merely as observers of culture but as participants in directing it. Yet no matter how much influence political leaders, cultural institutions, or media organizations possess, there remains one thing they cannot change: truth. Political movements rise and fall. Public opinion shifts from one generation to another. Headlines dominate attention for a season and then disappear. Truth alone remains unchanged. It does not depend on approval, elections, or popular consensus.

As I reflected on that jar of jelly, I began to wonder what lessons are being passed on to future generations. We live in an age of remarkable convenience. Technology has removed many of the difficulties previous generations faced. Food can be delivered to our homes, information is instantly available, and countless services exist to make life easier. While these developments are blessings, they also carry a danger. Prosperity can cause people to forget the sacrifices and disciplines that made prosperity possible in the first place. When comforts are inherited rather than earned, it becomes easy to assume they will always exist.

The generation that endured the Great Depression understood that someone had to produce before anyone could consume. They knew that every dollar represented labor, sacrifice, and effort. They understood that strong families, strong communities, and strong nations are built by people who contribute more than they demand. Today, political leaders often promise new programs and additional benefits, but every promise carries a cost. Every dollar spent must first be earned by someone, invested by someone, or borrowed against the future. These realities do not disappear because they are unpopular or politically inconvenient. A society cannot indefinitely consume what it does not produce.

The issue is not whether we should care for those in need. Compassion has always been a hallmark of both biblical faith and healthy communities. The deeper question is whether we are teaching responsibility alongside compassion. Are we preparing young men and women to become providers, builders, and contributors, or are we encouraging them to look first to others whenever challenges arise? A society remains strong when its people possess the character, discipline, and willingness to shoulder responsibility. When those qualities are lost, no amount of wealth or government assistance can replace them.

Scripture addresses this principle directly. The Apostle Paul wrote, “Even while we were with you, we gave you this command: ‘Those unwilling to work will not get to eat’” (2 Thessalonians 3:10, New Living Translation). Paul was not speaking about those who were unable to work. He was speaking about those who were unwilling. He understood that healthy families, healthy churches, and healthy societies depend upon people who are willing to contribute rather than simply consume. Responsibility is not merely an economic principle. It is a moral and spiritual one as well.

As I sat reading the coverage of the New York elections and the endless commentary surrounding what the results supposedly meant for the future of our culture, my thoughts returned to that visit with my sister and the jar of jelly she had placed on the table. In that moment, I realized the lesson had never really been about jelly. It was about legacy. That simple jar represented knowledge passed from one generation to another. It represented people who understood stewardship, preparation, perseverance, hard work, and faith. It represented a generation that knew how to endure hardship without surrendering to it and how to face uncertainty without expecting someone else to solve every problem.

The greatest inheritance we can leave our children is not money, possessions, or comfort. It is faith in God, strong character, practical wisdom, personal responsibility, and the willingness to work for something greater than themselves. Those qualities carried previous generations through economic depression, war, uncertainty, and hardship. They will be just as necessary for the generations that follow us.

Long after today’s elections are forgotten, long after today’s headlines have faded away, and long after the voices attempting to shape culture have been replaced by others, those truths will remain. Sometimes the most important lessons are found in the simplest moments. Sometimes they begin with a piece of toast and a jar of jelly.

Matthew 14:27-31 This morning as I read this passage, a simple thought struck me.

Peter stepped out of the boat because of one word from Jesus: “Come.”

He did not step out because the storm had stopped. He did not step out because the waves had settled. He did not step out because he understood how he could walk on water. Peter stepped out because one word from Jesus was enough.

That one word gave him the courage to leave the safety of the boat and step into the impossible. As long as Peter kept his eyes on Jesus and trusted what Jesus had said, he walked on water.

What stands out to me is that the storm did not change when Peter stepped onto the water. The wind was still blowing, and the waves were still crashing. The circumstances around him were exactly the same. The only thing that changed was where Peter placed his focus. As long as his eyes were fixed on Jesus and his heart was anchored in what Jesus had said, he walked above the very thing that should have overcome him.

The moment Peter shifted his attention from the voice of Jesus to the strength of the storm, fear entered his heart. His thoughts likely became consumed with questions. What if I fall? What if I drown? What if this doesn’t work? The “what ifs” became louder than the word Jesus had spoken.

As I reflected on this passage, I couldn’t help but see myself in Peter. There have been seasons when I knew exactly what God had promised, yet the winds around me seemed so strong that I began listening to my fears more than His voice. The battle was never about the storm itself; it was about whether I would trust what God had said when everything around me seemed to be saying something different.

God may not speak audibly to us the way He spoke to Peter, but He has already spoken through His Word. When fear tells us we are alone, God says He will never leave us nor forsake us. When anxiety tells us tomorrow is uncertain, God tells us not to worry about tomorrow because He is already there. When weakness tells us we cannot endure, God reminds us that His grace is sufficient and His strength is made perfect in weakness. The question is not whether God has spoken; the question is whether we will believe what He has already said when the storm is raging.

Someone once said, “Doubt begins when we allow our circumstances to interpret God’s promises instead of allowing God’s promises to interpret our circumstances.” That is exactly what happened to Peter. The storm became more real to him than the Savior standing before him. The wind became louder than the word, “Come.”

What encourages me most about this story is that Peter’s failure was not the end of the story. When Peter began to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” and Jesus immediately reached out His hand and caught him. Jesus did not wait for Peter to swim back to the boat. He did not leave him to struggle on his own. The moment Peter cried out, Jesus responded.

That is the beauty of our Savior. Even when our faith is weak, His faithfulness is not. Even when we take our eyes off Him, He never takes His eyes off us. Even when we are sinking under the weight of fear, disappointment, uncertainty, or doubt, His hand is still reaching for us.

As I finished reading this passage, I kept coming back to the same thought: One word from Jesus was enough to get Peter out of the boat, but the moment Peter stopped trusting that word, he began to sink.

The storms of life will come. The winds will blow, and the waves will rise. The “what ifs” will always try to steal our focus. But when God has spoken, one word is enough. One promise is enough. One truth is enough.

And when we begin to sink, we can take comfort in knowing that the same hand that reached down and caught Peter is the same hand that still reaches down for us today.

“Duty is ours; results are God’s.” John Quincy Adams

There are mornings when a particular thought settles into the mind and refuses to leave. Not because of a conversation, a recent event, or any obvious reason. It simply arrives and demands attention. This morning, that thought was anger.

As I reflected on it, questions began to surface. Why is anger such a powerful force? Why does Scripture warn us to be slow to anger while acknowledging that anger exists? Why did Paul write, “Be angry, and do not sin”? Scripture warns us about anger, yet God Himself expresses anger and Jesus displayed it as well. That alone tells me that anger cannot simply be dismissed as something inherently wrong. If it were, God would not possess it as part of His holy character, nor would Christ have demonstrated it during His earthly ministry. The question, then, is not whether anger exists, but what kind of anger we are experiencing and what we choose to do with it.

The more I considered these questions, the more I realized that anger often reveals what matters most to us. It exposes our convictions, our concerns, and the things we believe are worth protecting. It can arise from selfish motives, but it can also arise when we see truth rejected, righteousness challenged, or something precious placed at risk.

As I examined my own heart, I realized that some of my anger is connected to the direction I see our culture taking. I have watched profound changes take place during my lifetime. Ideas and values that once formed a common foundation are increasingly questioned or rejected. Faith is often treated as something that should remain private, while biblical convictions are portrayed as outdated or intolerant.

As I look at California and our nation, I cannot ignore the changes taking place around us. Faith is increasingly treated as something that belongs behind closed doors, prayer is often dismissed, and biblical truth is challenged on nearly every front. I am concerned that future generations may grow up with little understanding of God, prayer, or the truths of Scripture. These concerns weigh heavily on me because they touch matters that I believe are foundational, not only to faith, but to the moral fabric of society.

As these thoughts continued to move through my mind, I found myself looking to Jesus. If anger itself is not always sin, then what does a godly response to anger look like? Jesus became angry, yet He never sinned. His anger was not rooted in pride, self-interest, or revenge. He was angered by the corruption of God’s house, the hypocrisy of religious leaders, and the hardness of hearts that resisted truth. What stands out to me is that His anger never distracted Him from His purpose. Instead, it strengthened His commitment to it.

The example of Christ reminds me that anger is not an end in itself. It is a call to action. If I am concerned about the next generation, then I must invest in the next generation. If I believe biblical truth is being abandoned, then I must know it, live it, and teach it. If I am concerned about the decline of prayer, then I should pray more. If I believe faith is being marginalized, then I must live my faith openly, courageously, and without apology. The answer is not outrage. The answer is responsibility.

Perhaps that is why this subject settled so heavily on my mind this morning. Godly anger is not meant to leave us frustrated. It is meant to move us. It calls us to pray, to teach, to stand firm in our convictions, and to faithfully carry out the work God has given us to do. The world will continue to change. Governments will come and go. Cultural values will rise and fall. But my calling remains the same: to follow Christ, to proclaim truth, to invest in those who come after me, and to remain faithful until the Lord calls me home.

Maybe that is the purpose of godly anger. Not to consume our hearts, but to awaken them to action.

“What is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You care for him?” Psalm 8:4

Today I sit at my sister’s kitchen window in Idaho, looking across the fields toward the brown hills and mountains beyond. As I enjoy the peacefulness of the view before me, my thoughts turn toward eternity. If this world, though touched by sin and brokenness, can still possess such beauty, what must eternity be like? What must it be like to stand in the presence of God and see His creation as He intended it to be from the beginning? The thought fills my heart with anticipation and wonder.

As I continue to gaze out the window, my mind begins to wander through the years of my life. I find myself reflecting on the faithfulness of God and the many ways His hand has guided, protected, and blessed me. Looking back, I can see His presence in places where I did not recognize it at the time. I can see His wisdom in decisions that once seemed confusing, His protection in circumstances I barely understood, and His grace in moments when I was most aware of my own weaknesses and failures.

My thoughts first turn to salvation. Who am I, O Lord, that You would reach down and rescue me? Who am I that You would forgive my sins, call me Your child, and promise me a home with You forever? There is nothing in my life that deserves such mercy, yet God freely gave it. The greatest blessing I have ever received is not found in anything I have accomplished, but in the grace that was extended to me through Jesus Christ.

I think about the family into which God placed me. He gave me parents who loved Him and taught me His ways. He blessed me with brothers and sisters who shared life’s journey with me and who remain a blessing to this day. Sitting here in my sister’s home, I am reminded once again of the gift of family and of the countless memories that have shaped my life.

My thoughts then turn to Carol. Through every season of life, she has walked faithfully beside me. She has shared my joys and carried burdens alongside me. She has been my closest friend, my trusted companion, and the love of my life. During these past two weeks of traveling together, I have been reminded once again how precious her presence is and how richly God has blessed me through her. Who am I, O Lord, that You would give me such a wife?

I think about my children and the privilege of being their father. I think about the joy of watching them grow, the lessons learned together, and the blessing of seeing the men and women they have become. I think about the husbands and wives who joined our family and who have encouraged my children in their faith and commitment to God. As a father, there is no greater comfort than seeing your children continue to walk with the Lord.

My thoughts move naturally to my grandchildren. Thirteen young lives that remind me of God’s faithfulness from one generation to the next. To watch them grow and to know that they are being taught to love and follow God is a blessing beyond anything I could have imagined when I was a young man. Their lives are evidence that God’s promises continue long after our own stories have begun.

I reflect on the work God has allowed me to do throughout my life. I think about the opportunities He has provided, the people He has placed in my path, and the purpose He has given me. Many people spend their lives searching for meaning, yet God allowed me to spend much of my life doing work that I enjoyed and work that mattered. His blessing has been evident in ways both large and small.

I also think about the friendships God has given me over the years. During this trip, Carol and I have spent time with family and friends, sharing meals, conversations, memories, and laughter. These moments have reminded me how blessed I have been by the people God has placed in my life. True friends are one of God’s greatest gifts, and I am grateful for those who have walked beside me through the years.

As I reflect on all these things, a common thread begins to emerge. Everywhere I look, I see the hand of God. I see His faithfulness in the relationships He has given me. I see His goodness in the opportunities He has provided. I see His grace in the mistakes He has forgiven. I see His love in blessings that I neither earned nor deserved. The older I become, the more clearly I recognize that every good thing in my life has come from Him.

It is then that I am reminded of David’s words in Psalm Eight. As David considered the greatness of God’s creation, he was overwhelmed by the realization that the Creator of the universe would care for him. Sitting here today, I find myself asking the same question. What is man that You are mindful of him? Who am I, O Lord, that You should think of me and care for me?

I do not know that there is an answer that fully explains God’s love. I only know that He has been far better to me than I deserve. As I look out this window toward the fields, the hills, and the mountains beyond, my heart is filled with gratitude. I have lived a life marked by God’s faithfulness. I have been blessed beyond measure by His grace. I have been loved by a God whose goodness exceeds my understanding.

For all of this, I can only offer a simple prayer.

Thank You, Lord.

“What many call hate is often nothing more than a refusal to surrender conviction.”

Recently, several San Francisco Giants pitchers found themselves at the center of a national controversy after choosing not to wear Pride-themed hats during a team-sponsored event because of their Christian convictions. The response from many media outlets, commentators, and social media critics was immediate and severe. The players were labeled hateful, intolerant, ignorant, and bigoted. Their refusal to participate was presented as evidence of hostility toward others, and many people questioned whether individuals holding such beliefs should be accepted in modern society.

As I followed the story, I found myself asking a simple but important question: What exactly did these players do that was hateful? They did not attack anyone. They did not insult anyone. They did not refuse to work with anyone. They did not advocate for mistreatment of anyone. They simply chose not to wear a hat that expressed support for a message they could not endorse because of their understanding of Scripture. Despite this, many critics concluded that their refusal to participate was proof that they hated the people associated with the movement being celebrated.

The criticism surrounding these players reveals something much deeper than a disagreement over a baseball promotion. It highlights a growing belief within our culture that disagreement itself is unacceptable. Increasingly, it is not enough for people to peacefully coexist while holding different convictions. The expectation is that everyone must publicly affirm, celebrate, and endorse the same beliefs. When someone declines to do so, even respectfully and without hostility, that person is often accused of hate simply because they refuse to participate.

This raises a question that deserves honest consideration. When did refusing to endorse a belief become the same thing as hating a person? Throughout history, people have disagreed about religion, politics, morality, and countless other issues while still treating one another with dignity and respect. Today, however, disagreement is often viewed as a personal attack. The reaction to these San Francisco Giants pitchers suggests that many people no longer distinguish between disagreement and discrimination, between conviction and hostility, or between refusing to celebrate something and actively seeking to harm someone.

Jesus warned His followers that this would happen. In John 15:18 He said, “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated Me first.” Those words were not spoken to people who were being hateful. They were spoken to people who were following Christ. Jesus understood that there would be times when faithfulness to God would be misunderstood by the world. He knew there would be moments when people would confuse conviction with hate and obedience with intolerance.

Perhaps the real reason standing for Christ creates conflict is because the message of Christ reminds people that they are accountable to God. If God determines what is right and wrong, then our choices have consequences. The world does not want to hear that there is a Judge, that sin is real, or that one day every person will give an account for how they lived. It is easier to reject the messenger than to consider the message.

The conflict is not really about baseball hats, social issues, or even the players themselves. It is about a culture that wants freedom without accountability and truth without God. Christians should not be surprised when biblical convictions are criticized because the world rejected Christ long before it rejected His followers.

Yet Jesus did not leave His followers with a warning alone. In John 16:33 He said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” What a powerful reminder for believers living in a culture that increasingly misunderstands biblical faith. The world may reject His truth, but it cannot change it. The world may oppose His followers, but it cannot overcome Him.

The San Francisco Giants controversy will pass, but the choice facing Christians remains the same. Will we stand firm when faithfulness costs us something? Jesus warned us that the world would not always understand those who follow Him. So do not be discouraged when conviction is called hate or truth is called intolerance. Stand firm in Christ. The world may reject His followers, but it cannot overcome their Savior. “Take heart,” Jesus said, “I have overcome the world.” That promise is as true today as it was when He first spoke it.

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” — Often attributed to Plato

Last night, I received a phone call from a good friend, someone I had worked alongside for ten years. Although we had stayed in touch over the years, I realized that I had not actually seen him face to face in nearly nine years. Our conversation quickly became a journey through old memories as we reflected on projects, challenges, victories, and experiences that had shaped both of our lives. It was one of those conversations that reminds you how quickly the years pass and how deeply certain relationships become woven into the story of your life.

As we talked, he mentioned something that completely surprised me. He told me there was an analogy I had shared with him years ago that had remained with him ever since. That immediately captured my attention because over the course of a lifetime we have countless conversations. Most are forgotten almost as quickly as they happen. Rarely do we know which words will stay with someone long after they have been spoken or how God might use a simple conversation to influence another person’s life.

He reminded me of a conversation that had taken place in my office many years earlier. During that conversation, I described a man walking through life carrying a backpack filled with rocks. I explained that the rocks represented the burdens, disappointments, wounds, fears, failures, regrets, and struggles that people accumulate throughout life. I told him that a true friend notices when the weight becomes too much and comes alongside another person to help him discover, confront, and remove those burdens one rock at a time. To my surprise, he remembered not only the analogy itself but also the meaning behind it. While I had nearly forgotten the conversation, he had carried both the image and its significance with him for years. Hearing him bring it up after all this time reminded me that we never really know how God may use a conversation, a story, or a simple illustration in another person’s life.

Listening to him describe the analogy after all these years, I realized he was no longer talking about a story he had heard. He was talking about truths he had experienced. Life had taught him what those rocks represented and how difficult it can be to help someone lay them down.

Every person carries a backpack through life. Hidden inside are rocks that represent burdens accumulated over the years. Some are disappointments that never healed. Some are failures that continue to haunt the mind. Some are fears that quietly influence decisions. Some are wounds inflicted by others. Some are grief, guilt, rejection, loneliness, betrayal, anger, or broken dreams. To those around him, the man carrying the backpack may appear strong, successful, confident, and in control, yet no one can see the weight hidden beneath the surface.

The first challenge is that the person carrying the backpack may not even know what rocks are inside. He knows he feels the weight. He knows he is tired. He knows something is affecting the way he moves through life. Yet after carrying those burdens for years, sometimes decades, the weight becomes familiar. What once felt abnormal eventually becomes normal. What once felt temporary becomes part of his identity. Some rocks become so intertwined with a person’s life that he no longer distinguishes between the burden and himself. A man who has carried rejection for years may come to believe he is unworthy of acceptance. A man who has carried guilt for years may believe he is beyond forgiveness. A man who has carried fear for years may mistake fear for wisdom. The burden changes the way he sees himself, the way he sees others, and ultimately the way he sees the world.

The second challenge is even more difficult because some of the rocks are covered in shame. They represent failures, poor decisions, painful memories, or deeply personal wounds that the individual hopes no one will ever discover. The thought of another person looking inside the backpack can feel more painful than continuing to carry the weight itself. Many people spend years protecting the very burdens that are slowly crushing them because exposing them feels more frightening than enduring them. The burden becomes a secret companion, and although it causes pain, it is familiar. Sometimes people cling to the very thing that is hurting them because they have carried it for so long that they no longer know who they would be without it.

The rocks do more than create weight. They change the person carrying them. Over time, the burden affects how he thinks, how he trusts, how he loves, how he leads, and how he responds to adversity. He learns to compensate for the weight. He develops defenses. He builds walls. He adjusts his expectations. Eventually he forgets that he is walking differently at all. What began as something he carried slowly becomes something that shapes the way he lives. His relationships are affected. His decisions are affected. The burden alters his posture toward life itself.

The longer a person carries those burdens, the more normal they become. What once felt like a temporary struggle slowly becomes a way of life. The walls become permanent. The defenses become instinctive. The isolation becomes comfortable. The anger becomes justified. The fear becomes caution. The person adapts so completely to the weight that he no longer recognizes how much it has changed him. He assumes this is simply who he is. He forgets that there was a time when he walked differently, trusted more freely, loved more openly, and lived with greater peace. The burden does not simply affect his journey; it begins to define it.

That is why helping a friend remove a rock is not as simple as reaching into the backpack and pulling it out. Before a burden can be removed, it must first be identified. Before it can be identified, it must be acknowledged. Before it can be acknowledged, trust must exist. A true friend understands that healing cannot be forced. He listens patiently. He walks alongside rather than pushing from behind. He creates a safe place where burdens can be revealed without fear of judgment and where wounds can be discussed without fear of condemnation. Sometimes the greatest gift a friend can offer is not advice, solutions, or answers. Sometimes the greatest gift is simply being present long enough for another person to feel safe enough to open the backpack.

Even when a rock is finally removed, the journey is not over. A person who has carried a burden for years must learn how to walk without it. He must learn how to trust again, hope again, forgive again, and believe again. The burden shaped his life for so long that freedom itself can feel unfamiliar. Sometimes removing the rock is only the beginning. Learning to live without it is the greater challenge.

As I continued thinking about our conversation, I realized there was an even deeper truth hidden within the analogy. A friend can help us identify the rocks. A friend can help us unpack the backpack. A friend can walk beside us through the process of healing. However, there are some burdens that no human being can remove. Some wounds run too deep. Some grief cuts too deeply into the soul. Some failures seem too great. Some guilt feels too heavy. Some shame has wrapped itself so tightly around a person’s heart that only God can unravel it.

This is where the analogy points beyond friendship and toward Christ. Jesus sees every rock in the backpack. He sees the burdens we hide from others and the burdens we hide even from ourselves. He sees every wound, every disappointment, every fear, every regret, every failure, and every tear. Nothing is hidden from Him. Nothing surprises Him. Nothing is beyond His ability to heal. Many times He uses a trusted friend to help us unpack what we have been carrying, but His purpose is not merely to reveal the burden. His purpose is to free us from it.

That is why the words of Jesus carry such power when He says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Jesus does not ask us to pretend the rocks are not there. He does not ask us to carry them alone. He invites us to bring them to Him. The burdens we have hidden, the wounds we have protected, and the weight we have carried for years are not things He wants us to manage better; they are things He wants us to surrender. God often places friends in our lives to help us discover the rocks we cannot see, but ultimately it is Christ who removes the burden, heals the wound, restores the soul, and teaches us how to walk again.

As I hung up the phone that evening, I found myself grateful not only for a friendship that had endured the passing of years, but also for the reminder that some of life’s deepest truths are not learned in a moment. They are discovered over time through experience, hardship, relationships, and God’s faithfulness. A few words spoken in an ordinary moment may stay with someone for decades. An analogy shared in passing may become a lens through which they better understand themselves, others, and even God. Perhaps that is one of God’s greatest gifts in this life: friends who help us unpack the backpack and a Savior who invites us to lay it down.