You are not crazy. You are contested.
The flesh and the Spirit are opposed to each other.
That is why part of you wants prayer and part of you wants escape.
Part of you wants Scripture and part of you wants distraction.
Part of you wants obedience and part of you still wants sin.
The battle is not proof that God is absent.
It may be proof that His kingdom has invaded ground the flesh used to control.
Today's question:
What area of your life feels most contested right now?
Name the battlefield. Bring it to God. Keep fighting.
Next week: Kill The Drag.
Your environment is either pulling you forward or dragging you back. The people around you. The places you spend time. The patterns you've built.
We're cutting the dead weight.
https://t.co/5P4WZuF2vm
Done negotiating.
What's the first excuse you're killing?
Not "thinking about killing." Not "working on." Actually killing. Making the decision that it doesn't get a vote anymore.
If you want to commit publicly, reply with it. Sometimes saying it out loud is what makes it real.
The prison doesn't have a lock on the door.
You can walk out whenever you're ready.
But first you have to stop believing the lies that tell you why you can't.
Your excuse arsenal has to die before you can walk free. There's no way around this.
Reflecting on what I shared this week and something keeps coming back to me:
I BELIEVED my excuses. Completely. They didn't feel like excuses—they felt like reality. Like reasonable assessments of my situation.
That's what made them so dangerous.
If I had known they were excuses, I would have dismissed them. But I didn't know. I thought I was being smart.
You probably think you're being smart too. I hope this week made you question that.
Kill The Lie.
This week I showed you the five excuses that kept me stuck for five years:
1. "I'm not ready yet" — the preparation lie
2. "The timing isn't right" — the circumstances lie
3. "I have responsibilities" — the noble excuse
4. "I need to be strategic" — the overthinking lie
5. "It's not that simple" — the complexity lie
The question now: how many are you telling yourself? And what are you going to do about it?
The people I know who actually build things spend way less time planning than you'd think.
They have a bias toward action. They'd rather move and adjust than think for six more months.
Because they know you can't think your way to clarity. You have to do your way there.
Saturday thought: how long have you been "strategizing" about the thing you want to do?
Weeks? Months? Years?
Set a deadline for the thinking. Then act. Or admit you're stalling and deal with that instead.
You can't strategize your way to success from your desk.
Real strategy requires data. You can't get data without action. Every day you spend "planning" without doing is a day you're flying blind and calling it preparation.
At some point you have to move and learn from what happens.
Something I've realized: "I need to be strategic" is often just "I'm scared" wearing a smart costume.
It lets you feel like you're doing something intellectual. Like you're being careful and thoughtful.
But if you've been "being strategic" for months without meaningful action, you're not being strategic.
You're hiding. With spreadsheets.
There's a difference between strategy and stalling. Most people can't tell which one they're doing.
Here's the test:
Strategy leads to action. You think, then do, then adjust based on results.
Stalling leads to more thinking. You think, then think more, then decide you need more information before you can think properly.
I spent months "strategizing." Made spreadsheets. Business plans. Market analysis.
At the end of all that strategy? Spreadsheets. Not a business.
I called it being thoughtful. It was being terrified.
End of week reflection:
The excuses that sound the smartest are usually the most dangerous. Because you'll defend them. You'll believe them. You'll let them determine your life while calling it being thoughtful.
What smart-sounding excuse have you been defending?
Strip away all the complexity from whatever decision you're avoiding.
What's the actual choice? In or out? Committed or not?
Make that decision first. The complexity is usually just decoration around avoiding it.
Something I noticed about myself during those five stuck years:
Every time someone gave me direct advice, I found a reason why it wouldn't work for me. My circumstances were different. More complicated. They didn't understand.
It was a defense mechanism. If my situation was complex enough, no one could expect me to solve it. I was justified in staying stuck.
The day I stopped making myself special was the day things started to change.
"It's not that simple."
"You don't understand my situation."
"It's more complicated than that."
I used to say these all the time. Made my situation so special that normal advice didn't apply.
Here's what I finally learned: complexity is an excuse factory.
Yes, your situation has nuances. Everyone's does. But the core truth—half-in doesn't work—that's universal. It applies to you too.
Successful people simplify. They cut through the complexity and find the core choice.
Stuck people add complexity. More factors. More considerations. More reasons why it's not that simple.
Which one are you doing?
Question I've been asking people this week: Are you honoring your responsibilities or hiding behind them?
There's a difference. One leads to action despite obstacles. The other leads to no action while claiming you can't.
Which one are you doing?
Been thinking about the "noble excuse" a lot.
It's the most dangerous category because it sounds virtuous. You're not avoiding commitment—you're being responsible. You're not scared—you're thinking about others.
But your family doesn't need you to stay comfortable. They need you to become the best version of yourself.
Your kids don't need a dad who sacrificed his dreams to play it safe. They need a dad who showed them what it looks like to go after something.
That's what I finally understood. Too late, almost.
The excuse I'm most ashamed of: "I have responsibilities."
Used it for five years. "I have a family. I can't take risks. People depend on me."
Sounds noble, right? I'm not making excuses, I'm being a good dad. A responsible adult.
Except here's what was actually happening: I was using my wife and son as a shield to protect myself from commitment.
My wife didn't want me to play it safe. She wanted to see me try. When she told me to move out, it wasn't because I took too many risks.
It was because I took zero. While hiding behind her.
Middle of the week thought: the lies never fully stop. Three years in and I'm still catching them.
But catching them is the whole game. Every time you see the excuse for what it is and commit anyway, you get stronger. Every time.