What If Jesus Wasn’t Who You Thought

We’re tempted to make him into what we want.

Four fishermen are in a boat in the dark, and they are afraid.

They’re not afraid of the water. They’ve worked this lake their whole lives. They’re afraid of the man asleep in the back of the boat.

The storm came up fast, the kind that kills men on the Sea of Galilee, and these were professionals — they knew they were going to drown. They woke Jesus up; he stood and spoke to the wind the way you’d speak to a dog that got up on the couch. Enough. Down.

And the wind lay down.

The water went flat as glass. And Mark tells us that right there—after the danger had passed, after they were safe—the fear actually hit them.

They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!” Mark 4:41 (NIV)

Pay attention. The storm didn’t make them ask that question. Jesus did.

They were more unsettled in the calm, standing next to Him, than they had been a minute earlier staring down their own deaths. A storm is just a storm; every fisherman has faced one. But a man who tells a storm to stop — and it stops — defies expectation.

❊

Most of us have spent our whole lives with a Jesus who could never do that. We create a Jesus who is kind, gentle, and endlessly agreeable. A Jesus who mostly wants us to be nicer and feel better about ourselves. We put Him on the felt board in Sunday school and He never really came off it.

We tamed Him.

A tamed Jesus is a Jesus you can follow from a comfortable distance. He asks for a little of your Sunday and none of your Monday. He’s a life coach with good quotes. You can respect a Jesus like that. You just can’t be changed by Him, because there’s nothing in Him big enough to change you.

The problem with a safe Jesus is that a safe Jesus can’t save anybody.

The men in that boat did not meet a life coach. They met the God who made the sea, standing in a fishing boat with sawdust still under His fingernails from the carpenter’s shop. Fully a man — tired enough to sleep through a storm. Fully God — able to end one with a word.

This is Jesus. Not a nicer version of you or a gentle teacher who affirms your choices. This is the Lord of the wind and the waves, who stepped into your world, into a fishing boat, and eventually onto a cross.

Paul says it plainly: in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form—all of it. The full weight of God, walking around in a body, eating fish, getting tired, telling storms what to do.

❊

Why does this matter for a man in the second half of his life?

Because you cannot give the second half of your life to a Jesus you’ve made small.

A tamed Jesus will get your church attendance. He’ll get the leftovers. But He will never get your life, because you don’t hand your one remaining half to a mascot. You only hand it to someone worth it. Someone with the authority to actually do something with it.

The men in that boat followed Jesus into places that cost them everything because they had seen who He was. Their courage didn’t come from working up more commitment. It came from a bigger view of Him. It always does.

You don’t need to try harder to follow Jesus. You need to see Him more clearly. Once you do, following takes care of itself.

So before we talk in the coming weeks about how to follow Him—prayer, obedience, the cross —we have to start here: with who He is. Because everything else is just religious effort until a man has stood in the boat, felt the fear, and asked the only question that matters.

Who is this?

❊

Here’s what I’d ask you to work on this week:

Somewhere along the way, you built a picture of Jesus in your head. Most of us did it when we were young and never updated it. This week, go back to the Gospels — Mark is short, start there — and read three chapters. As you’re reading, ask one question about Jesus: what is He actually like? Not what you were told he’s like, but what he says and does on the page.

Don’t study it. Just watch Him. Let Him be as strong and strange and real as he is in the text, instead of the tame version you’ve been carrying since you were ten.

Is the Jesus I’ve been following big enough to be worth the rest of my life?

If He’s only as big as the felt board, of course you’ve held back. Any man would. But that’s not who’s in the boat.

— Ron

You Can’t Lead Who You Don’t Know

How Well Do You Know the Woman You’re Trying to Lead?

THIS WEEK

We’ve said a leader goes to God first, and serves before he leads. Here’s the third need, and it’s the one most of us are worst at — including me.

You cannot lead a person you don’t actually know.

A shepherd doesn’t lead sheep he’s never studied. A good one knows them. He knows which ones wander, which are anxious, which are hurting. And a husband who wants to lead his wife spiritually has to start by knowing her. Where is she struggling? What is she afraid of, and what does she long for?

Most of us think we already know her. We’ve been married twenty, thirty, forty years. But knowing her schedule is not the same as knowing her heart. And the only way in is a skill most men were never taught — listening.

You’ve been married long enough to predict what she’ll say. That’s not the same as knowing what she means.

· · ·

The counselors at The Ravines, who do intensive marriage work, named the problem exactly:

“Too often, couples speak to be understood rather than to understand. Servant leadership invites spouses to listen without planning a rebuttal — truly receiving the other’s heart.” — The Ravines, on servant leadership in marriage

Listen without planning a rebuttal. Be honest: how much of your listening is really just waiting? Waiting for the pause so you can say your piece. Waiting to correct the detail she got wrong and waiting to fix the problem so the conversation can end.

That’s not listening. That’s reloading.

Authentic listening—truly understanding her—means setting aside your own response and genuinely receiving her heart: not fixing it, not defending yourself, and not solving it —just receiving it, the way you’d want God to receive you.

And here’s what most men discover when they finally do it: the woman they’ve been married to for decades has depths they stopped exploring years earlier. She’s changed. She’s grown. She’s carrying things she never told you because you never really made space to hear them.

· · ·

There’s a beautiful line in the Song of Songs where the lovers call each other friend. Under all the romance, that’s what a marriage is supposed to become — a deep friendship.

A man who listens is doing the quiet work of leadership. He’s learning the terrain of her soul so he can lead her through it well. You’d never try to guide someone through country you refused to learn. Your wife’s heart is the country. Study it.

The husband who knows his wife’s heart can lead her. The husband who only knows her schedule can only manage her.

DO THIS THIS WEEK

Ask her one real question this week. Don’t say a word until she’s fully done.

This week, take time to sit with your wife and ask her a question you haven’t asked before. Avoid logistics and focus on meaningful topics like, “What have you been holding onto lately that I might have overlooked?” or “Where has your faith been feeling strong or drained recently?” Listen attentively until she finishes, avoiding the urge to respond, fix, or defend yourself. When she stops speaking, ask, “Is there more?” Your goal is to understand her heart so you can lead it. Be open to what she shares.

THE BROTHERHOOD

No man leads his marriage well alone. Here’s how to work this with other men.

Listening is a skill, and men sharpen skills best around other men who are working on the same one. Nobody gets better at this alone. If you regularly meet with a group of men, here’s how you can practice this together.

→ Report what you heard, not what you said. When your group gathers, have each man share one thing he learned about his wife this month by listening. If a man has nothing, something’s wrong. He didn’t ask, or he didn’t really listen. Let the group gently press him to try again.

→ Practice on each other first. Men are out of practice at being heard. Take turns letting one man talk for five minutes while the others listen—no advice, no fixing, no reloading. Learning to receive a brother’s heart trains you to receive your wife’s.

→ Keep each other from ‘fix-it’ mode. Give each other permission to ask, “Did you listen to understand, or listen to respond?” Most of us don’t even notice we’re doing it. Another man’s question wakes us up.

THE ANCHOR VERSE

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” — James 1:19 (NIV)

The order is the whole lesson: quick to listen, slow to speak. Most of us reverse it, speaking quickly, listening slowly, and getting angry when we feel unheard. James offers an antidote in one verse. Lead your marriage with this order and see what opens up. Consider: When last did you listen to your wife without planning to respond, and what might you learn if you did so this week?

THE REBOUND LETTER — FREE · EVERY WEEK

Know a man who’s stopped really knowing his wife?

There’s a man in your life coasting on autopilot in his marriage — married for decades, but not really knowing her heart anymore. Forward him this letter. Sometimes one nudge is all it takes to get a man to sit down and actually listen again.

Forward this issue to one man →

You Can’t Lead Her Where You Won’t Go

The heart of spiritual leadership isn’t about having special skills. It’s about being a man who genuinely walks with God.

THIS WEEK

In the next four letters, we’ll talk about something many of us feel guilty about, and few really know how to do: spiritual leadership in marriage. Don’t think this is for someone else. If you’re married, it’s for you. We’ll start with the foundation: your own walk with God.

Just hearing the phrase makes some men tense up. It sounds like one more thing to do, another area where you’re supposed to have it together but don’t. Lead family devotions. Pray out loud with your wife. Be the spiritual head of the home. Most of us, if we’re honest, quietly feel like they’re failing at all of it.

So let’s start with something freeing. Spiritual leadership doesn’t begin with leading others. It starts with your own walk with God. That’s where real leadership begins.

You can’t lead your wife somewhere you’re not going yourself.

Spiritual leadership isn’t a performance you put on for her. It’s the overflow of a life that’s actually near to God.

· · ·

Tim Keller explained this really well. He compared love to money in the bank.

“If your only source of love and meaning is your spouse, then anytime she fails you, it will not just cause grief but a psychological cataclysm. If, however, you know something of the work of the Spirit in your life, you have enough love “in the bank” to be generous to your spouse even when you are not getting much affection or kindness at the moment.” — Tim Keller, The Meaning of Marriage

This explains why so many of us feel empty at home.

If your wife is your only source of love and meaning, you come home each night needing her to fill you. When she’s tired, distant, or cold, you have nothing left because your only well just ran dry. You react, withdraw, or get resentful. It’s not because you’re a bad man, but because you’ve tried to draw living water from another person, and she was never meant to be your source.

But a man who is truly walking with God, praying, reading Scripture, and being honest, has love in the bank. He can be generous with his wife even when she has nothing to give, because he isn’t running on her supply. He’s running on God’s presecnce.

The most spiritual thing you can do for your wife this week may be to get your own soul fed — so you have something to give her that isn’t dependent on her.

· · ·

Here’s what this looks like in real life.

It’s you quietly tending your own relationship with God. That way, what flows out of you comes from a source deeper than the results of your day.

How does it work? Spend a few minutes in Scripture before the day starts. Engage in a prayerful conversation with God that doesn’t come from crisis. Confess when you blow it. Feed your spirit.

Your wife will notice the difference before you ever say a word. A man at peace with God leads his home simply by being present differently.

DO THIS THIS WEEK

Feed your own soul first.

Before you try to lead your wife, focus on your own walk with God this week. Spend ten minutes each morning in Scripture. Don’t do it to perform or to report to anyone. Do it so you have something in your tank when you walk through the door tonight. You can’t give her water from an empty well. Fill your well first, and see how differently you show up at home.

THE BROTHERHOOD

No man leads his marriage well by himself.

This kind of issue often remains hidden in private but becomes more noticeable in a group setting. A man may ignore his soul for months without acknowledging it, but once others notice, everyone else does too.

→ Find one man and trade a simple question. Text one friend this week: “Did you spend any real time with God today?” Ask each other this question every day for two weeks, then keep it going. That’s it. You’ll be amazed how much a single honest question from another man does for your consistency.

→ Meet monthly, and go first. Get two or three men together once a month. The only rule: one man starts by honestly answering, “How’s your walk with God actually going?” When one man goes first and tells the truth, it gives the others permission to do the same.

→ Don’t try to lead your home from an empty tank. Men who keep a real walk with God rarely do it alone. Let a brother know when your well runs dry. Isolation is where good intentions quietly fade.

THE ANCHOR VERSE

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” — John 15:5 (NIV)

Apart from me you can do nothing. Nothing. All the spiritual leadership you’re trying to build for your marriage comes from one source: your connection with Jesus.

If you get that right, the fruit will come. If you skip it, no amount of effort will yield anything sustainable.

Here’s a question to consider: Is the well you’ve been drawing from at home actually full? When was the last time you let God fill it?

THE REBOUND · FREE 30-MINUTE CONVERSATION

Is your own walk with God running on empty?

Many men trying to lead their marriage are running on fumes themselves. They feel spiritually dry, just going through the motions, with nothing left in the tank. If that’s you, let’s talk today. Start by feeding your own soul again, then lead your home from strength.

Book your free Rebound Call →

— Ron

You Can’t Fix Them. You Can Pray for Them

The quietest leadership is a man on his knees for the people in his care.

THIS WEEK

We’re closing this stretch of letters with the quietest man of all. Most of you have never heard a single sermon about him. I’ve never preached a single sermon on him! His name was Epaphras, and he shows up in just a few verses near the end of Paul’s letter to the Colossians.

He was, as best we can tell, the man who first brought the gospel to his hometown, Colossae. He planted the church there. And then, while he’s away with Paul, he can’t stop thinking about those people.

So he does the only thing a man can do for people he loves but can’t be with. He prays. He prays hard and constantly.

Paul, who knew what real labor for the church looked like, watched this man pray for his people and was moved enough to write it down.

· · ·

“Epaphras, who is one of you and a servant of Christ Jesus, sends greetings. He is always wrestling in prayer for you, that you may stand firm in all the will of God, mature and fully assured.” — Colossians 4:12

Always wrestling in prayer for you.

The word “wrestling” is derived from the same root as “agony.” This isn’t a man tossing up a quick blessing over dinner. This is a man laboring in prayer, sweating over it, fighting for these people on his knees the way a wrestler fights for a pin.

And what’s he praying for? Not small things. He’s asking that they’d stand firm, mature, fully assured. He’s praying for their character. Their depth. Their faith. He wants them to become everything God made them to be. Since he can’t be there to make it happen himself, he wrestles it out before God on their behalf.

Epaphras couldn’t be there. So he did the most powerful thing a man can do for the people he loves — he took them to God, over and over, and would not let go.

· · ·

Here’s what I want you to see because I think a lot of us have this backwards.

We treat prayer as the thing we do when there’s nothing else we can do. It’s the last resort. “Well, all we can do now is pray.” As if prayer were the weakest option.

Epaphras shows us the opposite. Prayer wasn’t his last resort. It was his leadership. It was the strongest, most active thing he could do for the people in his care. He threw his whole body into it.

Now think about the people in your care. Your wife. Your kids. Your grandkids. The men you’ve been learning to believe in and stand beside these past weeks. The people at your church. The friend in the hard season.

You cannot fix most of what they’re facing. You know that by now. The second half teaches a man his limits. You can’t make your grown son choose well. You can’t heal your friend’s marriage. You can’t reach into your grandkid’s future and steady it.

But you can wrestle for them. You can take every one of them to God by name and refuse to let go. And that is not the least you can do. According to Scripture, it may be the most.

You may not be able to fix the people you love. But you can carry them to God. This one action changes things you’ll never see this side of heaven.

· · ·

There’s something good about learning this in the second half.

In the first half, we lead by doing. We build, provide, fix, and show up with solutions. And that’s good, in its season.

But there comes a point where the most important people in your life are living lives you can’t control and facing battles you can’t fight for them. And a man can either rage against his own limits — or he can get on his knees and become a wrestler like Epaphras.

Nobody will see it. Nobody will give you credit for it. Your family may never know how many mornings you carried them before God while they slept.

But it will be some of the most important leadership of your entire life. And one day, you’ll find out just how much it mattered.

DO THIS THIS WEEK

Wrestle in prayer for one person by name this week.

Pick one person in your care — your wife, a child, a grandchild, a friend in the fire. This week, pray for them by name every single day. Not a quick blessing. Wrestle. The way Epaphras did. Pray that they’d stand firm, that they’d grow, that they’d become everything God made them to be. Set a time and keep it — same chair, same few minutes, seven days. Don’t tell them you’re doing it; this one’s between you and God. Watch what it does in you as much as in them. This is real leadership. It just happens on your knees.

THE ANCHOR VERSE

“The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” — James 5:16 (NIV)

Powerful and effective. Not sweet. Not nice. Not a last resort. Powerful. Effective. Prayer does something. It moves things you cannot move with your own hands.

Who in your care most needs you to become a wrestler in prayer for them? What would it look like to start this week?

THE REBOUND LETTER – FREE EVERY WEEK

Know a man carrying people he can’t fix?

Somewhere in your life there’s a man quietly breaking over a kid, a marriage, a situation he can’t control. He needs to hear that he’s not powerless — that he can still wrestle for the people he loves. Forward him this letter. It might be the word that gets him back on his knees.

Obeying God When You’re Afraid

You don’t have to be fearless. You just have to be willing to knock on the door.

THIS WEEK

There’s a man in Saul’s story most of us have never stopped to think about. His name was Ananias, an ordinary disciple living quietly in Damascus, minding his own business.

God hands him one of the hardest assignments in the whole New Testament.

Saul is in the city, freshly blinded, freshly broken on that road. God comes to Ananias in a vision and tells him to find Saul, lay hands on him, and pray for him. Go to the man who came to Damascus for the express purpose of arresting and imprisoning people exactly like Ananias.

That’s crazy! God is asking him to walk straight toward the most dangerous man in the region—the man hunting his church, maybe carrying his name on a list—knock on the door and touch him.

So Ananias argues.

· · ·

“‘Lord,’ Ananias answered, ‘I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to your holy people in Jerusalem.’” — Acts 9:13 (NIV)

In other words, “Lord, do you know who this is? Are you sure? Because I’ve heard the stories, and this is the last man on earth I want to go anywhere near.”

There’s something freeing in that. Ananias wasn’t a fearless spiritual giant. He was scared, he was honest about it, and he said so right to God’s face.

And then he went anyway.

Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s obeying God while you’re still afraid.

He walked to the house. He knocked. He stepped inside to meet the man who terrified him. And the first words out of his mouth may be the two most beautiful words in the chapter.

“Then Ananias went to the house and entered it. Placing his hands on Saul, he said, ‘Brother Saul, the Lord — Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here — has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.’” — Acts 9:17

Brother Saul.

The first human being to call the great persecutor a brother wasn’t an apostle. He wasn’t a hero. It was a frightened, ordinary man who almost didn’t come — and obeyed God when it scared him half to death.

· · ·

Ananias appears in exactly one scene. He shows up, he obeys, he says the words, he prays, Saul’s sight comes back — and then he’s gone. We never hear his name again.

But without that one act of quiet, frightened obedience, there is no Paul. The most influential man in the history of the church needed one ordinary disciple willing to do the hard, unseen thing that nobody would ever put his name on.

That’s what most real leadership is. Not the visible kind. The kind where God asks you to do the frightening, thankless thing in private — make the call you don’t want to make, go to the person you’d rather avoid, obey the nudge you’ve been talking yourself out of for weeks — and you do it, scared, with no guarantee anyone will ever know you did.

God’s biggest work often runs through the obedience of men whose names never make the story.

You don’t have to be extraordinary. Ananias wasn’t. You only have to be willing to go when God says go and trust that He knows what He’s doing on the other side of that door.

· · ·

So let me ask you: Is there a ‘go’ you’ve been avoiding?

A person God keeps putting on your heart that you keep finding reasons to put off. A hard conversation you know is yours to have. A nudge toward someone difficult — someone you’ve quietly written off, someone it would be so much easier to keep avoiding.

Ananias permits us to be afraid of it. You can even argue with God about it, the way he did. But the blessing is on the other side of going anyway.

DO THIS THIS WEEK

Do the one thing you’ve been avoiding.

You already know what it is. The moment you read “is there a go you’ve been avoiding,” a specific name or conversation came to mind. That’s the one. This week, go — make the call, have the conversation, show up for the person God keeps bringing back to your mind. You’re allowed to be afraid. You’re allowed to tell God you don’t want to. Go anyway. And when you get there, lead with grace — be the one who calls a hard man “brother,” who offers the kind word first. The blessing is on the other side of the going.

THE ANCHOR VERSE

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” — Joshua 1:9 (NIV)

God doesn’t say you won’t feel afraid. He says: Don’t let the fear rule you. God is with you wherever you go. Including the doorstep of the person you’re dreading.

Ananias went scared, and God went with him the whole way. He’ll do the same for you.

What is the one ‘go’ God keeps setting in front of you — and what would your obedience actually look like?

The person you’re avoiding is so often the person who needs you most. God knew that long before He ever nudged you toward them. Go this week. Someone is waiting on the other side of your obedience.

THE REBOUND · 8-WEEK TRANSFORMATION

Sometimes the ‘go’ you’re avoiding is the work on yourself.

For a lot of men, the frightening thing God keeps nudging them toward isn’t out there — it’s in here. The honest look at your own life you’ve been putting off for years. The Rebound program is eight weeks of finally going there. If the ‘go’ you’ve been avoiding is your own, this is it.

Learn about the Rebound program →

— Ron

I Am With You

Some of the most important leadership in the world isn’t out front. It’s the man beside you who won’t let you go alone.

The most powerful four words one man can say to another

THIS WEEK

Last week, we considered Barnabas and the importance of believing in someone. This week, I want to introduce you to a man who remains unnamed in the Bible, yet whose leadership might be the kind we need most. He is simply called Jonathan’s armor-bearer.

Israel’s army is pinned down, outnumbered, and demoralized. Jonathan, King Saul’s son, gets a daring idea. He looks across a rocky pass at an entire enemy garrison and decides that perhaps God wants the two of them to confront it. Just the two of them. Against a garrison.

It’s the kind of idea that could get them killed. Jonathan turns to his armor-bearer, this unnamed man in history—to see what he thinks.

“‘Do all that you have in mind,’ his armor-bearer said. ‘Go ahead; I am with you heart and soul.’”—1 Samuel 14:7 (NIV)

“I am with you heart and soul.”

He didn’t say, “Let me think about it.” He didn’t respond, “That’s insane; we’ll die.” He didn’t hedge, ask for a plan, or calculate the odds of survival.

He said: wherever you’re going, I’m going. Whatever your decision is, I’m in. All the way. Heart and soul.

Together, they climbed up that pass, and God routed the entire garrison through them. Just two men. The enemy’s line panicked and broke, marking the turning point of the entire battle, and it all began with one man saying to another, “I’m with you.”

Some of the most important leadership in the world isn’t out front. It’s the man beside you who won’t let you go alone.

We’ve been conditioned to picture leadership as always being at the forefront. The visionary. The one with the plan, the platform, the voice. And while that’s one type, there’s another kind that Scripture honors just as much. The world has a much greater shortage of it. It’s the person who stands beside someone facing a challenging call and says, “I’m with you. You’re not doing this alone.”

Think about who in your life is currently trying to climb some challenging pass.

– A friend starting over after a job loss.

– A younger man in your church stepping into something larger than he feels prepared for.

– Your pastor, who may be feeling more exhausted and alone than anyone realizes.

– Your own grown son, struggling with heavy burdens while pretending he’s fine.

Most of them don’t need you to fix things. They don’t need your five-point plan. What they need is what that armor-bearer offered Jonathan—a companion who simply says, “I’m with you. Whatever this is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

You will never know how many men are just one, “I’m with you” away from finding their courage.

Here’s the challenge: Being the person beside someone means you might not get credit. History didn’t even record the armor-bearer’s name. He understood that if the story were ever told, Jonathan’s name would be the one remembered, not his.

He did it anyway because he cared more about his friend and the work God was doing than about being recognized for it. That’s what second-half leadership looks like. After spending the first half chasing recognition, you have nothing left to prove, making you ideally positioned to support someone else and focus on them.

DO THIS ONE THING

Come alongside one man this week.

Think of a man in your life who is facing a difficult climb—a struggle, a calling, or a heavy season he may not be open about. This week, reach out to him. Let him know, “I’m with you. You’re not carrying this alone.” Then show up, check in, and be there again next week. Don’t wait to be asked. Men in tough situations rarely ask for help. Be the armor-bearer. Go up the pass beside him.

THE ANCHOR VERSE

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.”—Proverbs 17:17 (NIV)

Born for times of adversity. Some of the men around you are facing their adversity right now. In a sense, you were born for this. Be the one who shows up when things get tough.

You’ve endured enough of your own difficult seasons to understand the impact one steady person can make. Now, you have the opportunity to be that person for someone else.

Who in your life is struggling with something significant right now that you could support? What is stopping you from telling them, “I’m with you” this week?

That’s the essence of the armor-bearer. He didn’t solve any problems; he simply refused to let his friend face challenges alone. Never underestimate the value of your presence to a man in distress.

THE REBOUND: FREE 30-MINUTE CONVERSATION

Sometimes, you may find yourself in the position of needing an armor-bearer.

As you read this, you might realize that you are the one climbing the pass alone, without anyone saying, “I’m with you.” That’s more common than you might think, especially for those who are usually the strong ones for others. else. Let’s talk. Sometimes a man just needs one other man in his corner.

Book your free Rebound Call →

— Ron

Somebody’s Waiting on You

There’s a kind of leadership we don’t think about. It doesn’t require a title or a platform. It just requires a man who’s willing to see the potential in someone before it’s obvious, and to say so out loud when it costs him something.

Sometimes the most important thing a man can do is believe in someone before anyone else will.

THIS WEEK

We’ve spent a lot of weeks on you— your own heart, your own marriage. This week I want to turn us outward. I want to turn us toward the men and the people around you who are waiting on something from you that you may not even realize you have to give.

Let me start with a man most people move right past when reading the Bible. His name was Barnabas.

You know the story of Saul on the road to Damascus. He was the great persecutor of the church, knocked flat on his butt and changed forever. It’s one of the most dramatic conversions in history.

But here’s the part we forget. After it happened, nobody believed it.

Saul comes to Jerusalem, trying to join the disciples. They want nothing to do with him. This is the man who held the coats while Stephen was stoned. He was the guy who dragged believers out of their homes. Now he shows up saying he’s one of them, and every man in that room is thinking the same thing: it’s a trap.

“Every door in Jerusalem was closed to Saul. And then one man opened his.”

· · ·

Here’s what Scripture says. It’s a short verse. Most people read right over it.

“But Barnabas took him and brought him to the apostles. He told them how Saul on his journey had seen the Lord and that the Lord had spoken to him, and how in Damascus he had preached fearlessly in the name of Jesus.” — Acts 9:27 (NIV)

Barnabas took him.

Think about what that cost. Barnabas put his own reputation, maybe his own safety, on the line for a man everybody else considered dangerous. If Saul turned out to be a fraud, it was Barnabas who’d vouched for him. Barnabas would be blamed.

He did it anyway. He walked Saul into the room and said, in front of everyone: I’ll stand behind this man. I’ve seen what God is doing in him. Trust me, and give him a chance.

And because one man was willing to believe in Saul before anyone else would, Christianity got Paul. The letters. Half the New Testament. The gospel carried across the world.

“None of it happens without one man willing to say: I believe in you, and I’ll put my name on it.”

That’s a kind of leadership we don’t think about. It doesn’t require a title or a platform. It just requires a man who’s willing to see the potential in someone before it’s obvious, and to say so out loud when it costs him something.

· · ·

Here’s why this matters for you in the second half.

You are surrounded by people who are waiting to be believed in. A son who’s not sure he’s got what it takes. A younger man at work who’s talented but unproven. A guy at church that everyone’s a little wary of, who might need one person in his corner. Maybe even your own wife, carrying a dream she’s never said out loud because she’s not sure anyone would take it seriously.

You have something powerful. You have the standing that comes with age. When a man who’s been around says I believe in you — it hits differently. It carries weight a younger man’s words don’t.

You’ve spent decades earning that weight. The second half is where you get to spend it on somebody else.

DO THIS THIS WEEK

Tell one person this week that you believe in them, and be specific.

Pick one person who’s waiting to be believed in. Your kid. A younger man. Someone who’s been written off. This week, tell them that you see something in them and you believe in it. Don’t be vague. Name the specific thing you see. “I’ve watched how you handle pressure, and I think you’ve got something most men don’t.” Then, if you can, do a Barnabas — open a door for them. Make the introduction. Put in the word. Vouch. Your name still carries weight. Spend some of it on someone who needs it.

THE ANCHOR VERSE

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:11 (NIV)

The name Barnabas was actually a nickname. His given name was Joseph. The apostles started calling him Barnabas — which means son of encouragement — because that’s just who he was. He was the guy who built others up.

Imagine being so consistent in believing in people that they change your name to match it.

Who in your life is waiting for you to believe in them out loud? What has your silence been costing them?

THE REBOUND LETTER — FREE · EVERY THURSDAY

Know a man who needs someone in his corner?

There’s a man in your life right now who’s been written off, or who’s written himself off. Forward him this letter. Sometimes believing in a man starts with simply handing him something that says: you’re not finished, and somebody sees it.

Forward this issue to one man →

— Ron

Build Something New

God doesn’t hand you back the marriage you had. He builds a new one, right in the place where the old one ran dry.

You can’t get back what you had when you were twenty-five. What you can build now is better.

THIS WEEK

We’ve walked a long way together, men.

Four weeks ago I asked you to really look at your wife. Then to go first — to move toward her without keeping score. Last week I asked you to say the hard thing you’d been holding for years.

If you’ve done even one of those, I want you to hear something before we go any further:

You’ve done more for your marriage in a month than most men do in a decade.

You showed up. You did the hard, quiet work that no one claps for. That matters more than you know.

And now you’re asking a good question — maybe the best one yet.

What now?

· · ·

A lot of men get here and try to go backward.

They want the marriage they had when they were twenty-five. The spark. The ease. The way it felt before the mortgage and the carpools and the long stretch of years that wore the shine off.

I’ll be honest with you. You’re not going to get that back.

And here’s the grace in it — you don’t want to.

“What you had when you were twenty-five was built on almost nothing. What you can build now is built on everything.”

Think about what you actually have now that you didn’t have then.

You have history. You’ve watched each other fail, and you stayed. That’s not a small thing.

You have proof. She’s seen you at your worst. You’ve seen her at hers. And here you both still are.

You have time — maybe for the first time in decades, there’s actually room in the week.

And you have the one thing you couldn’t have had when you were twenty-five: you finally know what matters. Back then you only thought you did.

The marriage waiting for you in the second half is deeper than the one you started with. It’s just not automatic. Deep things never are. They get built.

· · ·

And here’s the best news in this whole letter. It’s not even mine — it’s God’s, and He said it to people who thought they’d lost everything.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” — Isaiah 43:18–19 (NIV)

Forget the former things. Stop trying to rebuild what used to be. That’s not what God is doing, and it’s not what He’s asking you to do either.

I am doing a new thing. Not the old marriage patched up. Something that has never existed before.

And look at where He does it. In the wilderness. In the wasteland. Right in the ground that looked dead. That looked finished.

“God doesn’t hand you back the marriage you had. He builds a new one, right in the place where the old one ran dry.”

That’s better than restoration. Restoration would give you back what you had — and what you had wasn’t enough. That’s how you ended up reading these letters in the first place.

God isn’t in the business of patching. He’s in the business of making new. And He does it in exactly the place you’d least expect — the worn-out, dried-up ground of a long marriage that lost its way.

· · ·

Here’s what building actually looks like, because it’s simpler than you think.

It’s not a vacation. It’s not one big romantic gesture. Those are moments, and moments don’t build anything that lasts.

Building means you make something together that wasn’t there before. Something ongoing. Something that needs both of you to show up, week after week.

For some of you, that’s a simple weekly rhythm — a regular walk or a morning coffee with no phones.

For some it’s a shared work — serving somewhere together, or walking alongside a younger couple who’s right in the middle of what the two of you already survived.

For some it’s just learning something new, side by side, where neither of you is the expert, and you both get to be beginners again.

It honestly doesn’t matter which one you pick. What matters is that it’s shared, it’s ongoing, and neither of you can do it alone.

That’s what rebuilds a marriage. Not a feeling you wait around for. A small, steady thing you build together until the feeling comes home on its own.

DO THIS THIS WEEK

This week, ask her one question — and do one thing.

Sit down with your wife this week and ask her this: “What’s one thing we could build together that we’ve never done before?” Then close your mouth and listen. Don’t arrive with the answer already picked. Let her dream out loud with you. Once you’ve landed on something — a Saturday walk, a couple you serve, a class you take together — start it this week. Not next month. This week, however small the first step is. Put it on the calendar before you go to bed tonight. The structure is what holds a marriage steady while the feelings find their way back.

THE ANCHOR VERSE

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls, one can help the other up.” — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 (NIV)

A good return for their labor. Hear that. A marriage in the second half isn’t a feeling you stumble back into. It’s labor — and it pays.

You’ve already spent twenty-five years laboring for a career, a house, a family. You know how to work for something. Spend the next stretch laboring for her, and with her, and watch what it gives back.

If the two of you built one thing together this year — one thing that needed both of you — what would it be?

Ask her. Then build it.

It really is that simple. It’s just not always easy — because simple things ask you to actually do them, week after week, when nothing dramatic is happening. That steady showing up is the work. And God meets a man right in the middle of it.

THE REBOUND · 8-WEEK TRANSFORMATION

You’ve started the work. Let’s finish it together.

Four weeks of letters can point the way. Eight weeks of real work can change the road you’re on. Weeks 4 and 5 of the Rebound program go straight at coming home and pursuing her again — with a clear framework, the journal in your hands, and a man who has taken this exact road beside you. If these letters prompted something, that’s the next step.

Learn about the Rebound program →

— Ron

Say the Thing

In many marriages that have grown quiet, the distance doesn’t come from one big betrayal but from many small silences.

The wall between you wasn’t built out of anger. It was built out of everything you’ve never said.

THIS WEEK

I want you to imagine that we are sitting in a room together—just you, me, and a few other men. These are the kind of men who have chosen to gather on a weeknight because deep down, they realize it’s time to stop pretending that everything is fine.

This is the room I’m writing to this week because what I have to say is hard, and no man should have to hear it alone.

We have been on this journey together for a few weeks now. You have been learning to see your wife again, practicing the art of going first—moving toward her instead of waiting for her to come to you. If you’ve put in any effort, you’ve already accomplished more than most men ever will.

However, there is one important piece we haven’t addressed yet. I believe most of us already recognize what it is, especially since it likely surfaced the moment you read the title of this letter.

There is something you need to express to your wife—something you have been carrying and holding back for a long time. You know what it is; you can feel it weighing on your chest right now.

The wall between you wasn’t built in a day. It went up one silence at a time.

· · ·

Let me share what I have noticed. It will help you feel less alone.

In many long marriages that have grown quiet, the distance doesn’t come from one big betrayal but from many small silences. These are moments that happened, feelings that were felt, but never talked about.

Maybe you owe her an apology—something you think she forgot. But she hasn’t. Women usually remember what men hope they will forget.

Maybe there was a time when you checked out emotionally—like when your father was dying or when work overwhelmed you. You didn’t explain what you were feeling inside. You just went quiet, and she was left guessing.

There might also be a hurt she doesn’t even know she caused. Perhaps she said something years ago that upset you, and you have held onto that feeling without giving her a chance to fix it.

Or maybe you keep a part of your life to yourself. It isn’t necessarily wrong; it’s just your private space that she has not been allowed to see.

Here’s the truth: a man who has been the strong one for twenty-five years finds it hard to open up. Doing so would mean admitting that he has not shown her his whole self.

So, he stays silent. He tells himself that this silence is kindness. Meanwhile, his wife feels lonely, living next to a man who is physically present but emotionally distant.

· · ·

Now hear the grace in what Scripture says about this. It’s better news than you think.

“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” — James 5:16 (NIV)

Confess first. Healing comes after.

God does not say: get yourself healed, and then, once you’ve got it all sorted out, you can talk about it. He doesn’t say: figure it out privately, clean it up, and present her with the finished, presentable version.

He says the opposite. Say it — while it’s still raw, while you’re still ashamed of it, while you don’t yet know how the story ends. And then the healing comes. The speaking is not the thing you do after you’re healed. The speaking is the doorway the healing walks through.

“You cannot be healed of something you refuse to say out loud. The silence isn’t protecting the wound. It’s keeping it alive.”

We learned this same truth back in the first weeks of these letters — that whatever lives only in silence holds power over you, and the moment it leaves your mouth, that power starts to break. Marriage is simply where that truth costs the most to obey. And it’s also where obeying it gives back the most.

Here’s something I want you to hold onto, because I think it will steady you. Your wife almost certainly already senses that something is there. Women usually do. She has been living next to that locked door for years. What she doesn’t have is the thing inside it. So the silence you’ve been keeping was never really shielding her from pain.

· · ·

Now let me get practical, because I’ve watched good men do this badly and cause real harm — and I don’t want that for you.

This is not a confession dump. You are not going to sit her down and unload twenty-five years of everything you’ve ever thought and felt in one overwhelming evening. That isn’t honesty. That’s handing her the full weight of your interior life all at once and calling it courage. It isn’t courage. It’s another way of making it about you.

So here’s how we do this instead. Pick one thing. The one that surfaced when you started reading tonight. Not the whole list — the single truest thing.

Say it plainly. Don’t bury it in a paragraph of explanation. Don’t defend yourself in the same breath you confess. Don’t tack on conditions for how she’s allowed to respond.

And then — this is the hard part, the part that takes more courage than the speaking — stop talking. Let the silence sit. Let her have whatever reaction she has, without you rushing in to manage it or fix it or soften it.

That thirty seconds after you’ve spoken and before she responds may be the most uncomfortable moment you’ve had in your marriage in years. Stay in it. Don’t fill it. That silence is holy ground. It’s where she gets to decide, freely, how to receive what you just trusted her with.

You are not doing this to get a particular reaction from her. You’re not saying it to earn forgiveness, or to make her cry, or to finally feel understood. You’re saying it because a marriage cannot be whole while one person is hiding.

DO THIS THIS WEEK

Say one true thing to her.

One thing. The specific thing that surfaced in your chest when you started reading this letter. Not a list, not a summary, not twenty-five years all at once — the single, true sentence you’ve been holding. Say it to her face, where she can see your eyes. Not in a text. Not in a card. Not on a drive where you get to stare at the road instead of at her. Say it plainly, without defending yourself, and then stop talking and let her respond however she needs to. You’re not doing this to get a reaction. You’re doing it because the thing that stays in silence stays in power — and because your marriage is worth the risk of being fully known.

THE ANCHOR VERSE

“Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.” — Ephesians 4:15 (NIV)

Notice both words — truth and love. Truth without love is a weapon, and plenty of men have used honesty to wound. But love without truth isn’t really love at all. It’s just a comfortable arrangement two people agree not to disturb.

A marriage grows up — becomes mature, in Paul’s word — when a man finally learns to hold both at once. To tell the truth, and to tell it tenderly. That’s not a natural skill. It’s a grace you grow into. And the second half of life is exactly the season to grow into it.

What is the one true thing you have never said to your wife — and what has the silence already cost you both?

THE REBOUND · FREE 30-MINUTE CONVERSATION

Sometimes you need to say it to a brother first.

If there’s a thing you know you need to say to your wife, and you can’t quite find your way to it on your own — that’s not weakness. That’s most of us. Sometimes a man needs to say it out loud to another man before he can say it to her. Let’s talk. Thirty minutes, no pitch, just one man helping another find the words.

Book your free Rebound Call →

— Ron

Go First

Your wife’s warmth is downstream of your pursuit. Not the other way around.

Somebody has to move first. In your marriage, that’s your job.

THIS WEEK

Last week, I asked you to look at your wife and say what you see.

Some of you did it. And some of you got a reaction you weren’t expecting — she looked at you sideways. She probably wondered what you wanted.

That’s not failure. You’re just seeing the wall.

A wall built over twenty-plus years doesn’t come down because you said something nice on a Tuesday. It comes down slowly, and only if you keep going after it.

Which brings me to the hardest thing in this whole discussion:

“You are going to have to move first, and keep moving, without any guarantee that she moves back.”

· · ·

Here’s the standoff most marriages are stuck in during the second half.

He’s waiting for her to be warm again before he pursues her.

She’s waiting for him to pursue her before she’s warm again.

Both of them are technically right. And nothing moves even as the years go by.

Somebody has to break it. And I’m going to tell you plainly: in a Christian marriage, that’s not a fifty-fifty proposition. Scripture puts that weight on you.

· · ·

“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” — Ephesians 5:25 (NIV)

Read that carefully. Gave himself up for her.

When? While she was still a mess. Before she was cleaned up. Before she deserved it. Before she was capable of reciprocating anything.

Jesus didn’t wait for the church to become worthy of love. He moved first — at full cost — and the transformation came after.

That’s the model. Not a fair exchange. Not, “I’ll meet you halfway.” A man who goes first.

“Jesus didn’t wait until she was ready. That’s the whole point.”

I know how that lands. You’ve been giving for twenty-five years — providing, working, showing up — and now you’re being told to give more.

But be honest about what you’ve been giving. You’ve been giving your labor. Your paycheck. Your presence in the building.

You have not been giving yourself.

That’s what she’s been missing. And that’s what Ephesians 5 is asking for.

· · ·

Here’s the practical part.

Moving first means initiating without a return receipt. You pursue her, and you do not evaluate whether it worked. You don’t audit her response. You don’t quit if she’s cool about it.

You keep going because it’s right.

DO THIS THIS WEEK

Initiate three times this week. Expect nothing back.

Pick three moments this week to move toward her first. A real question at dinner — one you don’t know the answer to. A hand on her shoulder when you walk past. Asking her to come sit with you for ten minutes with no phone and no agenda. Do all three. And here’s the part that matters: do not keep score. Do not evaluate her response. Do not decide whether it’s working. Just go first, three times, and let that be the whole assignment.

THE ANCHOR VERSE

“We love because he first loved us.” — 1 John 4:19 (NIV)

That’s the entire sequence of the gospel in six words. Somebody went first. Everything after that is a response.

Your wife’s warmth is downstream of your pursuit. Not the other way around.

What have you been waiting for her to do before you’ll move? And what would happen if you stopped waiting?

THE REBOUND LETTER — FREE · EVERY WEEK

Know a man whose marriage is stuck?

There’s a man in your life right now sitting in the same standoff — waiting for his wife to move first, while she waits for him. Forward this to him. He may not have anyone else willing to say it.

Forward this issue to one man →

— Ron