Dear Reader,
In the last issue, I introduced a paid layer to this work that many people were seeing for the first time.
And I want to speak to that directly for a moment.
Everything I share here is rooted in something I take seriously, offering faith in a way that people can actually receive it, especially in a world that feels noisy, reactive, and often overwhelming. That mission hasn’t changed, and it isn’t going to.
Because of that, I’ve made the decision to release this issue of our paid series, “Life In the Resurrection” for everyone without a paywall.
At the same time, We are all mature responsible adults, and so I want to bring something to your attention that sits in the room with all of this.
This work, like anything meant to last, requires financial support to continue. The encouragement and the prayers sustain me, but the world demands the kind of support that allows it to grow, reach more people, and remain sustainable over time. Your feedback reminds me daily that this work is necessary in today’s world, and so I must do everything in my power to keep it going.
In fact, this is what one reader said about our last issue:
This was so impactful – I truly appreciate how you meet all of us just where we are and help us move forward. God bless you!
There isn’t an institution funding this. It’s built, quite simply, by the people who believe in it.
So if you’ve found yourself returning to these reflections, if something here has helped you see more clearly, pray more honestly, or simply breathe a little easier in the middle of your day, I want to invite you to take a step deeper into this work.
For about the cost of a fast food meal each month, you can help sustain and expand what we’re building here together.
Not as a transaction, but as a shared commitment to making this kind of faith accessible to the people who need it.
If you’re able, I’d be grateful to have you as part of that.
You reread the message one more time, and it lands the same way it did the first time. Short. A little distant. No warmth. And almost immediately, the conclusion forms: They’re upset with me. The feeling follows right behind it, tight in your chest, a quiet sinking. It all happens so quickly you barely notice the step in between. It just feels… obvious. True.
But pause for a moment.
That felt completely true… but was it?
We’ve been walking together through how our thoughts shape our experience of the world, and how easily the mind can begin to loop, repeating the same patterns until they feel like reality itself. Now we come to a question that opens something deeper and more freeing:
Can we trust every thought we have?
What begins to emerge, as we slow down enough to notice, is that thoughts and reality often feel indistinguishable. When a thought arises, we don’t usually experience it as “a thought.” We experience it as truth. And when a thought carries a strong emotional charge, it becomes even more convincing. If it feels true, we assume it is true.
This is part of what psychology describes as cognitive fusion, when we become so entangled with a thought that we don’t recognize it as separate from ourselves. It’s simply there, unquestioned, shaping how we see everything. Alongside this is something called emotional reasoning, the quiet assumption that because something feels a certain way, it must be accurate. If I feel rejected, I must have been rejected. If I feel incapable, I must be incapable.
But thoughts do not arise in a vacuum. They are shaped by memory, by past experiences, by habits of interpretation we’ve developed over time. They come quickly, often automatically, and they are not always reliable reflections of what is actually happening.
You might recognize this in small, familiar moments.
“They didn’t respond… they must be upset with me.”
“I made a mistake… I’m a failure.”
“This feels overwhelming… I can’t handle it.”
Each of these thoughts carries a sense of certainty when it arrives. There’s no announcement that says, “This is just one possible interpretation.” It simply feels like truth. And because it feels like truth, we move forward as though it is.
Over time, something deeper happens. The more often a thought repeats, the more familiar it becomes. And the more familiar it becomes, the more true it feels. Not because it has been examined, but because it has been rehearsed. In this way, thoughts gain power not by being accurate, but by being repeated.
And beneath all of this is a quiet assumption we rarely question: If I think it, it must be true. Or perhaps more subtly, My thoughts are reliable reflections of reality.
But what if they aren’t?
What if some of the things you have believed most strongly about yourself, about others, even about God… were never examined closely enough to be called truth?
Scripture speaks into this not as a command to control the mind, but as an invitation into freedom.
“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”
— John 8:32 (NIV)
And elsewhere:
“…we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”
— 2 Corinthians 10:5 (NIV)
This is not about suppressing your thoughts or policing your mind. It is about learning that your thoughts are not the final authority. Truth is not determined by whatever happens to pass through your mind in a given moment. Thoughts can be noticed, held, examined. They do not have to be obeyed.
This is part of what it means to live in the Resurrection. New life is not only about what happens after death, it is about what becomes possible now. And one of those possibilities is this: you are no longer bound to believe every thought that arises within you. You are being invited into a clearer, freer way of seeing.
So let’s keep this simple.
The next time you notice a strong thought, especially one that carries weight or urgency, try this:
Pause, even briefly, and ask yourself, Is this actually true… or is this just something my mind is saying right now?
You are not trying to force a different answer. You are simply opening space. Curiosity begins to loosen what certainty had tightened.
Over time, this small shift can change your relationship with your own mind. You begin to notice that thoughts come and go. Some are helpful, some are not. Some reflect reality, others distort it. And you are not required to accept all of them as truth.
Not every thought deserves your belief.
Thoughts can feel completely true without being true.
And as you begin to see this more clearly, something gentle but profound begins to take place. There is a little more space between you and your thoughts. A little less urgency. A little more freedom.
This is where clarity begins.
We are learning, slowly and patiently, to see more clearly. Not perfectly, not all at once, but honestly. And that kind of awareness is where real change begins. It does not come through force, but through seeing.
As you begin to question your thoughts, you may notice more space opening within you. Less reactivity. More steadiness. And perhaps even a growing sense that you are not as trapped as you once believed.
In our next step together, we’ll turn toward something just as important, what we do with the feelings that follow these thoughts, especially the ones we would rather avoid.
For now, receive this:
May Christ, who is Truth itself, gently free you from every falsehood that has felt convincing but has never been real.
May you grow in clarity, in peace, and in the quiet confidence that you are not defined by every thought that passes through your mind.
And may the life of the Resurrection continue to open within you, one honest moment at a time.
Amen.
If something in this reflection stayed with you… if it helped you see your own thoughts a little more clearly, or gave you even a small sense of space where there wasn’t any before… then you’ve already experienced what this work is meant to offer.
And that’s what I’m committed to continuing, with depth, consistency, and care.
As this series moves forward, the next step in Life in the Resurrection will be part of the paid portion of this work. Not to hold anything back unnecessarily, but to make it possible to keep building something sustainable and meaningful over time. The daily morning reflections will of course always continue for everyone at no cost, because this is ministry first.
If you feel that this matters, and you’re in a position to support it, I’d invite you to become a paid subscriber.
Your support helps carry this work forward… not just for you, but for the many people who will encounter it right when they need it most.
This really is something we’re building together.
And I’m grateful you’re here.