I posted something tiny. A simple reminder to slow down. Nothing clever. Nothing polished. Honestly… I almost deleted it. It felt too soft. Too obvious. Too “not enough.” Then someone reached out and said, “That post wrecked me. It made me sit with myself in a way I haven’t in years.” It shook me. Because I spend so much time trying to make things excellent, helpful, meaningful… And here God uses a small, almost-forgotten thought to open someone’s heart. It reminded me:Impact isn’t always loud. Breakthrough isn’t always complex. Sometimes it’s a sentence. A pause. A breath. A slowdown. Share the small things. They may be the thing that saves someone from burning out, giving up, or shutting down.

Eddie encountered his heart for the first time in his sixties.Think about that. Decades of leading, providing, performing, but never really feeling. When he finally stopped running from his pain and let honesty touch his story, something powerful happened. He began to reconcile relationships that once felt beyond repair. He started to feel his feelings so they could finally be healed. Eddie didn’t just become more self-aware.He became alive. He grew needy for God and for people. And that’s how we were designed. To be needy. To need love, connection, and grace. Eddie’s life is proof of what’s possible when a man stops hiding behind strength and starts leading from his heart. Today, Eddie coaches other menon the language of the heart and has become a close friend of mine. That’s real power. That’s leading strong.

Most of my breakthroughs came on the other side of something that broke me. The stage, the song, the coaching room — they were all born in seasons where I questioned if I could keep going. But in the middle of that ache, God was forming something deeper than success — substance. What used to be suffering has become the story I stand on. 💬 I’d love to hear yours — what’s one area of your life that once felt like failure but has now become fuel for others?

For a long time, I thought anger disqualified me from being loving.Then I realized it was part of what made me human. Avoiding it felt like locking a door and convincing myself it was safer to stay upstairs. But when I finally had the courage to go down there, I found out the monsters weren’t real.The basement wasn’t haunted. It was holy. The cave we fear to enter holds the treasure we seek.Transformation is always waiting on the other side of avoidance.Attention is the beginning of healing. Reflection: What door have you been afraid to open in your own story?

What’s a story or moment you used to hide that now gives you hope?