When did we stop seeing people as individuals and start seeing them as labels? When did the first question after a crime become, “What color was the victim?” or “What color was the suspect?” instead of, “What happened?” and “Who is responsible?” When did labels become more important than truth, and identity more important than character?

I grew up believing that people should be judged by their actions, not by the group they belong to. I never cared whether someone was black, white, brown, rich, poor, Republican, Democrat, Christian, Muslim, or anything else. Every person deserves respect because they are human. Trust, however, is earned through honesty, integrity, and personal responsibility. A person’s character—not their skin color, religion, politics, or social status—is what ultimately matters.

I was raised in a working family where showing up, working hard, paying your bills, and keeping your word were simply expected. We weren’t wealthy or connected. We learned that life isn’t always fair, but that complaining about it never solved anything. You took responsibility for your choices, learned from your mistakes, and kept moving forward.

Those lessons guided my life. I went to school, worked hard, raised a family, built a career, and tried to leave things better than I found them. Along the way, I learned that freedom comes with responsibility, rights come with obligations, and success is usually built one decision at a time.

The strange thing is that my values haven’t changed much over the years. I still believe faith matters. I still believe family matters. I still believe hard work matters. I still believe people should be judged by their character and held accountable for their actions. Yet many of those beliefs, which once seemed ordinary, are now treated as controversial.

Today, it often feels as though we live in a world that sees people as categories before it sees them as individuals. We are encouraged to view one another through the lens of race, politics, religion, gender, or ideology before we know a single thing about their heart, their character, or their life story. In the rush to assign labels, we risk losing sight of our common humanity.

I don’t claim to have all the answers, and I don’t expect everyone to agree with me. I simply believe we would be better off if we spent less time dividing people into groups and more time holding individuals accountable for their own choices. Justice should be blind. Respect should be freely given. Trust should be earned. Character should still matter.

Perhaps that makes me old-fashioned. If so, I’m comfortable with that.

The measure of a person is not the color of their skin, the label attached to their name, the political party they support, or the group to which they belong. The true measure of a person is found in their character, their integrity, and the choices they make when no one is watching.

As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us:

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

More than sixty years later, that still seems like a dream worth pursuing.

As I reflect on my seventy-six years of life, I realize there are two things that stand out more than most: the first time I did something and the possibility that I may be doing something for the last time.

When we are young, life is filled with firsts. The first day of school. The first job. The first car. The first date. The first home. The first child. Life seems full of new adventures, new discoveries, and new experiences. We rarely think about endings because our focus is on beginnings.

As I have grown older, I have noticed that there are fewer first times. Most roads have already been traveled. Most experiences have already been lived. Yet every now and then, God still gives us a new first.

This trip that Carol and I are taking is one of those firsts. We are traveling through Northern California, Oregon, Idaho, and Nevada on a road trip with no real agenda other than to enjoy the journey. I have driven many of these roads before, but always with a destination in mind. I was focused on getting from one place to another as quickly as possible. Carol, on the other hand, has always wanted to stop and smell the flowers, take photographs, explore small towns, and enjoy the scenery along the way.

This time I decided to slow down. Instead of focusing on where we were going, I decided to enjoy where we were. We stop when we want to stop. We take pictures when something catches our eye. We wander through towns we have never visited and take time to appreciate God’s creation. To my surprise, I have discovered that slowing down is actually quite enjoyable.

One of the things I wanted to do on this trip was visit family. At my age, I understand that none of us are promised tomorrow. I do not know if this will be the last time I see some of them on this side of eternity. That thought is not meant to be sad. In many ways, it has made these visits even more meaningful.

What has blessed me most is not the places we have seen but the people we have spent time with. Sitting together, sharing stories, laughing about old memories, meeting new family members, and simply being present has reminded me of what truly matters.

As I have reflected on this trip, I have come to realize that the older we get, the fewer first times we experience and the more aware we become of last times. The last visit with a friend. The last family gathering. The last road trip. The last opportunity to say the things that should be said.

None of us knows when those last times will come. Most of the time we experience them without even realizing it. That is why this trip has meant so much to me. It reminded me that life is not measured by the number of days we have left but by what we do with the days we are given.

One day there will be a last road trip. One day there will be a last family visit. One day there will be a last sunset, a last conversation, and a last goodbye. Knowing that does not make life sad. It makes life precious.

Perhaps that is the lesson God has been teaching me on this journey. Do not rush through life chasing tomorrow. Be present today. Enjoy the people He has placed in your life. Say the words that need to be said. Create the memories that need to be made. Because one day the first times will be gone, and all that will remain are the memories of how we spent our last times.

As I look back over seventy-six years, I am grateful for the many first times God has given me. But today, I find myself more thankful for the moments in between. The ordinary conversations, the shared meals, the laughter with family, the beauty of His creation, and the relationships that have shaped my life. Those are the things that endure.

This trip has reminded me that life is not about how quickly we reach a destination. It is about who we travel with, what we learn along the way, and whether we take the time to appreciate the blessings God places before us. In the end, it may not be the first times or even the last times that matter most. It may simply be that we were fully present for the time we were given.

“The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is.” Winston Churchill

What happened to common sense in America? Common sense used to mean looking at the facts, accepting reality, taking responsibility, and applying the same standards to everyone. Today, nonsense is often treated as wisdom while common sense is treated as controversial.

A young man was stabbed to death. A jury heard the evidence, considered the self-defense claim, and returned a guilty verdict after only a few hours of deliberation. Yet much of the discussion became about race instead of the facts. Common sense says justice should be based on evidence, not skin color.

California requires voters to be United States citizens. Yet a gym membership card can be accepted as identification in certain voting-related circumstances. A gym membership proves membership in a gym. It does not prove citizenship. Common sense says if citizenship is required, citizenship should be verified.

Carol and I are traveling through Northern California and Southern Oregon. We have seen countless able-bodied men living on the streets. Some clearly suffer from mental illness or addiction and deserve help. Others appear capable of working and supporting themselves. Common sense says we should help those who cannot help themselves, but we should not reward those who refuse to help themselves.

California has spent billions of dollars addressing homelessness, yet the problem remains visible in communities throughout the state. Common sense says if a solution is not working, it is time to try a different solution.

The nonsense is not limited to one issue. We see it whenever facts are replaced by narratives, responsibility is replaced by excuses, and different standards are applied to different people.

Common sense says tell the truth. Common sense says take responsibility. Common sense says apply the same rules to everyone.

The question is not whether America can find its way back. The question is whether we still have the courage to choose common sense over nonsense.

“The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you.” General Dwight D. Eisenhower, June 6, 1944

Today we remember D-Day, the day when thousands of Allied soldiers stormed the beaches of Normandy and changed the course of history. Nearly 5,000 men gave their lives on June 6, 1944, and thousands more were wounded as they fought their way onto the shores of France. These men were not fighting for fame, politics, or personal gain. They were fighting because freedom itself was under attack.

It is important to remember why D-Day was necessary. The world had already watched Hitler invade nations, break treaties, oppress millions, and spread tyranny across Europe. For too long, many hoped the problem would resolve itself. It didn’t. Evil grew stronger, the cost of confronting it increased, and eventually a generation of young men was called upon to do what had to be done. They landed on those beaches because the alternative was allowing tyranny to continue unchecked.

As I look at today’s headlines and the growing tensions involving Iran and other hostile regimes around the world, I can’t help but think about the lessons of history. The men of D-Day understood that peace is not maintained by wishing threats away. They understood that strength deters aggression and that freedom survives only when good people are willing to defend it.

None of us want war. Every reasonable effort should be made to pursue peace. But history teaches us that ignoring dangerous threats does not create peace—it often delays conflict until the price becomes much higher. One has to wonder how different history might have been if the world had confronted Hitler’s aggression sooner. Could millions of lives have been saved? Could the devastation of World War II have been reduced? We will never know for certain, but we do know that waiting came at an enormous cost.

What also strikes me is how America would respond today if we lost nearly 5,000 soldiers in a single battle. Would we unite as a nation the way Americans did in 1944? Or would politicians immediately spin the tragedy to support their agendas? Would the media focus on honoring the sacrifice, or would the story become another political battleground before the fallen had even been brought home?

The Greatest Generation understood something we desperately need to remember today: freedom is never free. Every liberty we enjoy—the freedom to worship, speak our minds, raise our families, and live without fear of oppression—was purchased and protected by men and women willing to sacrifice everything.

Today, as we remember the heroes of Normandy, let us honor not only what they did, but why they did it. They stood against evil. They defended freedom. They accepted sacrifice so future generations could live in liberty.

May we never forget their courage. May we learn from their example. And may we always remember that the price of freedom is eternal vigilance, because freedom has never been free.

God bless the heroes of D-Day, our veterans, our military, and the United States of America.

There is a unique trial that comes to those who believe they have heard from God concerning things yet to come. It is not the trial of suffering, persecution, or loss. Those trials are visible and easily recognized. The trial of time is different because it works quietly. It begins with confidence. When God first speaks, His words settle deeply into the heart, bringing clarity, direction, and a sense of certainty about the future. What He says seems straightforward, and it is easy to believe that we understand not only the words themselves but also their meaning. Yet as the years pass and life unfolds in ways we did not anticipate, the confidence we once had in our understanding begins to face an unexpected test.

Jesus said, “My sheep hear My voice.” He did not say they occasionally hear it or that they spend their lives wondering whether they have ever heard it at all. He said they know His voice. A sheep recognizes the shepherd because it has heard that voice repeatedly. After many years of walking with Christ, I have come to know His voice in much the same way. I have heard His correction when I needed discipline, His comfort when I faced disappointment, His conviction when I drifted, and His encouragement when I grew weary. Because of those experiences, the struggle I face today is not rooted in doubt about whether Jesus can speak. The struggle lies in determining whether I fully understood what He meant when He spoke.

Over the years, there have been things that I believed the Lord impressed upon my heart concerning the future. Those impressions were not passing emotions or fleeting thoughts. They remained with me through the changing seasons of life and became part of the framework through which I viewed the years ahead. Without realizing it, I began living as though I understood what those things meant. I made assumptions about how events would unfold and quietly attached expectations to what I believed I had heard. Looking back, I can see that I was not merely listening to God’s voice; I was also interpreting His words, often with more confidence in my interpretation than I should have had.

Now, as I find myself drawing closer to the horizon I once associated with those things, I am confronted with questions that I never expected to ask. These questions are not directed toward God’s faithfulness. Nor are they rooted in uncertainty about His ability to communicate with His people. Instead, they are directed inward. I find myself wondering whether I understood only part of what was being said. I wonder whether I filled in details that God never supplied or attached timelines that existed only in my own mind. The passing years have forced me to recognize that hearing from God and fully understanding God are not always the same thing.

When I read the Scriptures, I discover that this tension is woven throughout the lives of many who walked closely with God. Joseph heard from God concerning his future, yet he could not have imagined the betrayal, slavery, and imprisonment that would precede the fulfillment of what he heard. David was anointed king while still a shepherd, but before he ever sat on the throne, he spent years hiding in caves and fleeing for his life. Even the disciples, who walked with Jesus daily, heard Him speak plainly about His suffering, death, and resurrection, yet they misunderstood His meaning because they filtered His words through their own expectations. In each case, God spoke truthfully, but those who heard Him understood only part of the story.

The older I become, the more I realize that God often reveals enough to require faith while withholding enough to require trust. He may disclose an outcome without explaining the process. He may reveal a destination without describing the road that leads there. He may speak accurately about the future while leaving us with only a partial understanding of how His words will unfold. Time eventually exposes the difference between what God said and what we assumed He meant.

This realization has not weakened my faith; it has deepened my humility. I have learned that my confidence cannot rest in my ability to interpret every detail correctly. It must rest in the character of the One who spoke. I am still living according to what I believe God has impressed upon my heart, but I do so with a greater awareness of my own limitations. I no longer assume that I fully understand every implication of what I have heard. Instead, I move forward trusting that God is capable of clarifying, correcting, and teaching me as His purposes unfold.

As time continues to move forward, some questions remain unanswered. Yet I no longer view those questions as threats to my faith. Instead, they remind me that I am a follower rather than the author of the story. My responsibility is not to possess complete understanding of the future. My responsibility is to remain faithful to the Shepherd whose voice I know. If I have misunderstood, He is able to correct me. If I have assumed too much, He is able to teach me. And if what I heard still lies ahead in ways I cannot yet comprehend, then no passing year and no apparent delay can prevent Him from accomplishing exactly what He intends.

The greatest lesson time has taught me is that faith does not require complete understanding. Faith requires trust. I may not fully understand everything I have heard, but I know the One who spoke. When time tests what I heard, I am reminded that my confidence was never meant to rest in my interpretation of the future. It was always meant to rest in the faithfulness of God.

“Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!”  Patrick Henry, March 23, 1775

As America celebrates two hundred and fifty years of independence, Patrick Henry’s words still thunder across the centuries with remarkable clarity and conviction. They remind us that freedom has never been free, that liberty has always demanded courage, and that every generation must decide whether it will defend freedom or surrender it. Henry understood what our Founders understood: liberty is not granted by government; it is a gift from Almighty God. It is worth protecting, worth sacrificing for, and if necessary, worth dying for.

For two hundred and fifty years, America has stood as a beacon of freedom in a world too often marked by tyranny, oppression, and human suffering. Our Founders boldly declared that our rights do not come from kings, politicians, bureaucrats, or governments. They come from our Creator. The Declaration of Independence proclaims that all men “are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights.” That single truth transformed human history. If our rights come from God, then no government has the moral authority to take them away. But if our rights come from government, then government can redefine, restrict, or remove them whenever it chooses.

The history of America is the story of generations who understood that truth and were willing to defend it. From Lexington and Concord to Gettysburg, from Normandy to Afghanistan, American men and women have sacrificed their lives so that liberty might survive. They fought not for power, wealth, or conquest, but for the belief that free people have God-given rights and that those rights are worth defending. The freedoms we enjoy today were bought by the courage and sacrifice of countless Americans who believed that future generations deserved to live free.

As we celebrate this extraordinary milestone, we should remember how rare and precious these blessings truly are. We live in a nation where people can choose their profession, worship according to their faith, speak their minds without fear, build businesses, raise families, and pursue their dreams. Millions from around the world have sought refuge and opportunity here because there is no other nation quite like America. There is no other place where freedom and opportunity have flourished on such a scale for so many people from so many different backgrounds.

Yet at the very moment we should be expressing gratitude for these blessings, many voices are telling Americans that they are victims rather than citizens, entitled rather than responsible, and dependent rather than free. Too often, the solution offered for every challenge is more government, more regulation, more bureaucracy, and more control. My concern is not merely political. It is spiritual. Whenever people begin looking to government for what they should seek from God, freedom begins to erode. Whenever personal responsibility is replaced by dependence, liberty begins to weaken.

President John F. Kennedy challenged Americans with words that remain just as relevant today as when he first spoke them: “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” Those words reflect the very heart of self-government. Freedom is not sustained by entitlement. It is sustained by responsibility. Liberty is not preserved by comfort. It is preserved by sacrifice. Self-government survives only when citizens possess the character, faith, and courage necessary to govern themselves.

As America begins its next two hundred and fifty years, we must remember that there is no other America waiting for us if we lose this one. There is no backup plan for liberty. There is no refuge where freedom will survive if the American people abandon the principles upon which this nation was founded. The generations who came before us answered the call of freedom with courage and sacrifice. The question before us is whether we will do the same.

I choose freedom because I believe it is a gift from God. I choose personal responsibility because liberty cannot survive without it. I choose faith over dependence, self-government over government control, and courage over complacency. As for me, I will not surrender the blessings of liberty that generations of Americans fought and died to preserve. Instead, I will defend them, cherish them, and pass them on to those who follow.

Too often we forget that freedom is only one generation away from extinction. It is not inherited automatically. It must be taught, defended, and cherished by each generation that receives it. The freedoms we enjoy today were preserved because ordinary Americans chose duty over comfort, sacrifice over convenience, and principle over popularity. They understood that liberty requires vigilance and that self-government requires self-discipline.

America’s future will not be secured by government programs, political parties, or powerful institutions. It will be secured by citizens who understand that freedom carries responsibilities. It will be secured by parents who teach their children the value of faith, hard work, honesty, and personal accountability. It will be secured by men and women who refuse to trade liberty for security or surrender conviction for comfort.

The challenges before us are real, but so is the strength of the American spirit. Throughout our history, this nation has endured wars, economic hardship, division, and uncertainty. Yet time and again, Americans have risen to meet those challenges because they believed in something greater than themselves. They believed in God, in freedom, and in the enduring promise of the American experiment.

As we celebrate this historic milestone, let us recommit ourselves to the principles that made America a beacon of hope to the world. Let us be grateful for the blessings we have inherited and determined to preserve them for those who come after us. For if we fail to protect liberty, there is no other America waiting to replace it.

May God bless America, and may He grant us the wisdom to preserve the freedom He entrusted to us, the courage to defend it, and the faith to never take it for granted. May we never surrender our freedoms to the philosophy that government should control who we are, what we believe, what we say, or what we can become. Let us remain faithful stewards of the liberty we have inherited, protecting it for our children, our grandchildren, and the generations yet to come. For there is no other America.

One of the most fascinating things about modern politics is the belief that some people hold a monopoly on intelligence, compassion, and morality. Listen closely to many voices on the political left and you will often hear the same message: They are the educated ones. They are the compassionate ones. They are the defenders of fairness and justice.

If you disagree with them, the assumption is often that you are uninformed, intolerant, or simply unable to understand the issue. That attitude becomes most obvious when discussing Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs and Pride initiatives. Whenever these programs are challenged, reduced, or eliminated, we are immediately told that rights are being taken away. We are warned that democracy is under attack. We are told that the Constitution itself is being threatened. The language is dramatic and emotional, designed to make people believe that fundamental freedoms are disappearing before their eyes.

But there is a question that almost never gets answered. What constitutional right is actually being taken away?

The Fourteenth Amendment guarantees equal protection under the law. It was written to ensure that every American would be treated equally by government regardless of race. It does not establish a constitutional right to Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs. It does not require race-conscious hiring, admissions, or promotion policies. It does not guarantee preferences based on race, gender, ethnicity, or identity. Those are policy choices created by institutions and governments. They are not constitutional rights.

In fact, many Americans would argue that the very principle behind the Fourteenth Amendment points in the opposite direction. Equal protection means equal protection. It means people should be treated as individuals rather than representatives of racial, ethnic, or social groups. It means the law should not favor one citizen over another because of the category into which they happen to fall.

Yet when these programs are challenged, we are told that rights are disappearing. The right to equal treatment remains. The right to equal protection remains. The Constitution remains unchanged. What is actually being challenged is a particular political approach to achieving fairness, not a constitutional guarantee.

The same confusion exists in debates surrounding Pride initiatives and related policies. Every American deserves equal protection under the law. Every American should enjoy the same constitutional freedoms. But equal protection under the law is very different from requiring acceptance, affirmation, or participation. The Constitution protects a person’s right to live according to his or her beliefs. It also protects the right of others to disagree with those beliefs. It protects freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and freedom of conscience. It does not require agreement. It does not require endorsement. It does not require celebration.

Somewhere along the way, many political preferences began to be treated as constitutional rights. Government programs became rights. Social movements became rights. Political goals became rights. Then, when someone questioned those programs or goals, the public was told that freedom itself was under attack. The result is that every policy disagreement becomes a constitutional crisis and every opponent becomes an enemy of progress.

What troubles me most is not the disagreement itself. Healthy societies depend on disagreement. What troubles me is the assumption that questioning a policy automatically makes someone a bad person. If you question Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs, you must be against equality. If you question Pride activism, you must be intolerant. If you challenge another government initiative, you must lack compassion. Rather than defending their ideas, many simply attack the motives of those who disagree.

That is not debate. That is avoidance.

The strength of an idea should not depend on emotional accusations or claims of moral superiority. It should depend on whether the idea is effective, fair, constitutional, and capable of standing on its own merits. In a free society, every policy should be open to criticism, examination, and debate.

The Constitution was written to protect liberty, not political movements. It was written to protect citizens, not government programs. If a policy is truly a constitutional right, then its defenders should be able to point to the amendment, the clause, and the text that protects it. If they cannot, then perhaps what they are defending is not a constitutional right at all, but a political preference dressed up as one.

“Whenever the people are well-informed, they can be trusted with their own government.” Thomas Jefferson

“One by one, U.S. civil rights agency dismantles tools to fight discrimination. The EEOC is seeking to overturn rules created decades ago to tackle discrimination in employment. The Trump administration says those rules have led to more discrimination—against white people.”

Headlines like this drive much of today’s political debate. Depending on which news source people follow, they may be told that constitutional rights are under attack or that equal treatment under the law is finally being restored. Before believing either claim, Americans should ask a simple question: What does the Constitution actually say?

The Constitution does not mention DEI, affirmative action, diversity, equity, or inclusion. The constitutional principle at the center of today’s debate comes from the Fourteenth Amendment, which guarantees equal protection of the laws to “any person.”

Those words matter. The Constitution does not say Black people, White people, minorities, or majorities. It says “any person.” The language is universal and applies equally to everyone.

The larger problem may be that too few Americans know what the Constitution actually says. If constitutional principles are being taught in our schools, the results suggest they are not being learned well enough. Millions of graduates cannot explain their constitutional rights, identify the branches of government, or describe how laws are made.

California spends billions of dollars on public education, yet many students struggle with reading, writing, mathematics, and basic civics. If students graduate without understanding the Constitution, how can they evaluate political claims about their rights? How can they know when politicians, activists, or the media are presenting facts versus opinions?

The Constitution is not just a historical document. It affects Americans every day. It protects freedom of speech, religious liberty, due process, property rights, and equal protection under the law. Citizens who do not understand these principles become dependent on others to explain their rights for them.

A constitutional republic depends on informed citizens. Education should not simply produce graduates; it should produce people who can read, think critically, and understand the principles that govern their lives. The most important lesson schools can teach is not what to think, but how to think.

When citizens do not understand the Constitution, they are more likely to accept political narratives without questioning them. They become vulnerable to media headlines, activist movements, and government officials who claim to speak on their behalf. A free people should never have to rely solely on others to tell them what their rights are. They should know those rights for themselves.

The solution to misinformation is not trusting one political party, one media outlet, or one ideology. The solution is an educated citizenry that knows the Constitution well enough to judge claims for itself. A people who understand their rights are far less likely to surrender them, and far less likely to be misled by those who claim to speak on their behalf.

The strength of America has never been found in politicians, political parties, or government agencies. It has always rested in an informed and engaged citizenry. The Constitution was written for the people, not for legal scholars or elected officials alone. If we truly want to preserve our freedoms, we must ensure that future generations can read it, understand it, and apply its principles to their everyday lives.

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” — Proverbs 18:21

The Bible says we are created in God’s image, and one of the most powerful truths about God is that He speaks things into existence. In Genesis, darkness did not resist His voice. “Let there be light,” and there was light. His words did not describe reality—they created it. Order came from chaos, and life emerged where nothing existed. From the beginning, we see that words are not empty—they are creative power.

Today we see that same power everywhere. A single post can destroy a reputation in seconds. A rumor can spread faster than truth and leave damage that takes years to repair. A teacher’s words can shape a child’s belief in themselves for life. A parent’s voice can become the internal voice a child carries into adulthood. When a child is constantly told “you are lazy,” “you are not good enough,” or “you will never be anything,” those words do not stay in childhood—they grow into identity. But when a child is spoken over with love, truth, and encouragement, those same words become strength that carries them through life. Words do not disappear—they take root.

So the question becomes simple: are we speaking life or death? My father once told me, “It is better to have people think you are a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” That truth stays with me because it reminds me that words are permanent. Once spoken, they cannot be taken back, and that is why they must be weighed before they are released.

Every word either builds something or breaks something, whether we realize it or not. They either lay a foundation of respect, trust, and life, or they tear it down in a single moment that can echo for years. This is why wisdom is not measured by how much we speak, but by how much we understand the weight of what we are about to say. It is in that space—between thought and speech—that we choose whether we are building life into someone or tearing something down that may take years to repair.

“A truly wise person uses few words; a person with understanding is even-tempered.” — Proverbs 17:27 (NLT)

Wisdom is often revealed in restraint. The person who understands this does not rush to speak, but speaks with intention, control, and purpose.

I have seen this in a very personal way with my grandson, Elijah Truth. When he was about four years old, he would sometimes lie to avoid getting in trouble. Instead of only correcting him, I chose to speak into who he was becoming. I told him his parents prayed over his name before he was born, and God gave it to them. I told him about Elijah in the Bible, a man known for boldness and faith. Then I said, “You are going to be a powerful man too. But God knew telling the truth would be a battle for you—that’s why your middle name is Truth.”

Then I told him something he will never forget: “As long as you tell the truth, you will become the powerful man God created you to be.”

Now every time I see him, I ask, “What’s your name?” He says, “Elijah Truth.” And I remind him, “You are going to be a powerful man as long as you tell the truth.” Those words are shaping his identity, not defining him by mistakes but calling him into purpose.

Just as God spoke and it became, our words carry the power to shape others. They can build a life or slowly break one down. They can become the voice that lifts someone up when they are falling, or the voice that keeps them stuck in who they were never meant to be.

A child will believe the voice they hear most. If that voice is harsh, critical, or filled with anger, it becomes the lens through which they see themselves. But if that voice is filled with truth, patience, and love, it becomes strength within them for the rest of their life. The same tongue that can wound deeply can also heal deeply.

So the question is not whether your words matter. They already do. The question is whether your words are becoming life or becoming death in the lives of those who hear them.

Because in the end, words do not just describe life—they shape it.

Yesterday while driving in my car, I listened to a man speaking about prayer, and a question suddenly came into my mind: Why do we pray if everything is already decided? If God already knows the beginning and the end, then what is the purpose of asking Him for anything at all?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that prayer is often less about changing God’s mind and more about surrendering our own. We come to God asking Him to remove pain, heal sickness, open doors, and change circumstances because that is how we measure peace. Yet life does not always unfold the way we hoped. We pray, fast, cry, and still the sickness remains. The door stays closed. Heaven feels silent. Those are the moments that force us to confront what we truly believe about God.

As human beings, we only see the moment we are standing in, while God sees beyond what our eyes can understand. What feels meaningless today may one day reveal a purpose time itself could not immediately show us. History reflects this reality. During the Holocaust, millions of Jewish people cried out to God while living through unimaginable suffering. In the middle of such darkness, nothing made sense. Yet years later, the nation of Israel was reborn. This does not make suffering good, nor excuse evil, but it reminds us that God can still bring life out of ashes and purpose out of pain humanity cannot comprehend while living through it.

The same is often true in our own suffering. Sickness, weakness, and death remind us how temporary this life really is. We spend much of our lives trying to hold on to this world, while God continually points us toward eternity. A dying body is not always the end of the story. Sometimes it is the reminder that something greater awaits beyond this life.

Job understood this in a profound way. After losing everything, God eventually restored what he had lost, but Job’s greatest reward was not the blessings he received afterward. Through suffering he came to know God in a way he never had before. Job said, “I had only heard about You before, but now I have seen You with my own eyes.” His pain stripped away every false security until all that remained was God Himself.

Maybe that is the hidden purpose inside suffering. We ask God to remove the fire, while God uses the fire to remove everything keeping us from fully depending on Him. Comfort can sometimes make us forget our need for God, but brokenness has a way of bringing us face to face with eternity. There are moments when we do not understand why God allows certain pain to remain, yet we keep walking with Him anyway. Not because everything makes sense, but because somewhere deep within us we believe He sees what we cannot.

Perhaps that is why prayer matters so deeply. Prayer gives us hope. Not always hope that circumstances will immediately change, but hope that we are not alone within them. Hope that our suffering is not meaningless. Hope that God is still present even when He feels silent. Hope that pain does not get the final word. Prayer keeps the heart connected to the belief that beyond this moment, beyond this struggle, beyond this temporary life, God is still writing a greater story than we are able to see.

Sometimes the answer to prayer is healing. Sometimes it is strength to endure. Sometimes it is peace in the middle of uncertainty. But prayer always reminds us that darkness is never permanent for those who continue walking with God. As long as a person can still pray, they have not lost hope, because prayer itself is the refusal to believe that suffering, death, or despair will have the final victory.

“God never said the journey would be easy, but He did say the arrival would be worthwhile.” — Max Lucado

“For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.” — Romans 8:18