This space is small right now, and I’m actually grateful for that. It gives room for honesty without performance. If you’re here, I’d love to know: What season are you walking through right now? For me, holidays are really tough, let’s have a dialogue:)

What’s one thing you’ve been carrying this week that you haven’t said out loud yet?

There is a reason Psalm 88 exists. There is a reason God let the darkest chapter in Scripture remain untouched. Because this is the psalm for a man who has walked through nights that felt endless, seasons where answers did not come quickly, and valleys where faith had to survive without feelings. This is the psalm for a man like me. A man who has prayed in the night and woken up with the same weight still on his shoulders. A man who has fought battles that no one saw, carried burdens that stretched the soul, and stood in places where only God could reach. When Psalm 88 ends with the words, *darkness is my closest friend*, I understand the honesty. I have known nights where the silence felt thick and the world felt distant. Not because hope was gone, but because the refining was deep. Because the wilderness was real. Because God was shaping something in me that comfort alone could not build. The psalm begins by calling God *the God of my salvation*. That opening line reveals the truth: even in his anguish, the psalmist knew where to turn. I have known this too. Even in my lowest moments—through heartbreak, through fatherhood battles, through anxiety, through burnout, through spiritual warfare—I knew where my help came from. I knew who I was calling. I have cried out like the psalmist. Day and night. In tears. In exhaustion. In silence. Yet every cry was still an act of faith. Every call into the night was a declaration that I believed God was listening, even when I did not feel Him. The psalmist speaks of feeling close to the grave, overwhelmed, forgotten, cut off, placed in the lowest pit. I have walked through valleys that felt exactly like that. I have experienced betrayal, rejection, exhaustion, and the weight of carrying my son through storms that shook me to the core. I have prayed in places where I did not feel heard. I have stretched my hands toward heaven while my heart trembled. But honesty in suffering is not rebellion. It is worship. Psalm 88 teaches me that God invites me to bring the truth of what I feel, even when the truth is heavy. Even when the truth has no bow tied around it. Even when the prayer ends without resolution.

Men, let’s talk about growth. What is one place in your life where you sense God calling you to rise, to step forward, to take responsibility. It is written Be strong and courageous, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. What step is God asking you to take next.

Tell me something that’s feeling heavy today?