There are four men in my life who have had a profound influence on the person I’ve become. The first is my father. The second is my father-in-law. The third is Pastor Godfrey, who has shaped me deeply as a leader, a pastor, and a man. I’m incredibly grateful for him—and truth be told, I still get a little nervous when he asks me to speak. Not because of him, but because of the weight that comes with handling the Word of God.
When someone is entrusted to share Scripture, there’s a responsibility to handle it correctly, to communicate it clearly, and to do so in a way that genuinely moves people forward in their walk with Christ. That weight never goes away. But for me, there’s something even more personal tied to it.
Whenever I’m asked to speak, I’ve learned that it usually means God is about to deal with me first.
Most of what I share publicly is something God has already been pressing into my own heart. And the truth is, Scripture often comes alive most vividly when we begin to experience what it’s been saying all along.
When Experience Unlocks Scripture
Marriage is a perfect example. Scripture describes Christ as the bridegroom and the Church as the bride. You can understand that intellectually before you’re married—but once you are married, it takes on a whole new depth. Marriage isn’t easy. If it feels easy, you’re probably doing it wrong. You’ll never love anyone more, and you’ll never be more challenged by anyone else either. That tension—the beauty and the struggle—mirrors the depth of Christ’s relationship with His people.
Parenthood works the same way. You can understand the love of a father in theory, but once you hold your own child, something shifts. No matter how irrational, frustrating, or downright foolish your kids may be at times, your love for them becomes unconditional. It simply is. And suddenly, Scripture about God’s love begins to make emotional sense, not just theological sense.
For me, another layer of Scripture opened up when my son joined cross country.
Learning From the Finish Line
I never ran competitively. If I’m running, something is chasing me—and it’s going to catch me. But my son became a runner, which meant early mornings, folding chairs in empty fields, and seeing him exactly twice during a race: once at the start and once at the finish.
One conversation with his coach changed everything.
The coach told me my son was running well, but there was one issue—he was crossing the finish line with something left in the tank. The strongest runners, he explained, collapse at the line. They give everything. There’s nothing left.
That idea haunted me.
Around the same time, life and ministry were heavy. Busy seasons piled on one another. Events, expectations, logistics—it all started to blur together. And when I prayed about what God wanted me to wrestle with, one word surfaced again and again:
Spent.
“I Will Most Gladly Spend and Be Spent”
That led me to a verse I’d read countless times but never truly seen:
“I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls.”
— 2 Corinthians 12:15
Paul doesn’t just say he’ll give what he has—he says he’ll give who he is.
There’s a difference between spending and being spent.
Spending is giving your time, your resources, your energy.
Being spent is surrendering yourself entirely.
Paul begins by saying he will do this gladly. That word matters. How we serve God is just as important as that we serve Him. Are we operating out of joy—or obligation? Gospel-driven joy leads to life. Duty-driven burnout leads to resentment.
You can give to God without surrender, but you cannot truly follow Him without it.
Heaven Is the Finish Line
Here’s the realization that changed everything for me:
Heaven is not the starting gate.
Heaven is the finish line.
The Christian life isn’t about arriving well-preserved. It’s about arriving well poured out.
Eternal souls are worth temporary sacrifice.
I remember one night—exhausted, frustrated, ready for it all to be over—when God convicted me deeply. Not through fireworks or spectacle, but through a quiet reminder: Someone entered the Kingdom tonight.
“For their souls.”
That was it. That was the reason. And suddenly, the exhaustion felt holy. Meaningful. Worth it.
Are You In the Race?
Paul never talks about spectators sipping coffee on the sidelines. He talks about runners—those in the race.
Some people aren’t in the race at all. They observe faith. They associate with Christianity. They attend occasionally. But they’ve never surrendered their lives to Christ. If that’s you, the first step isn’t running harder—it’s stepping onto the track.
Others are in the race, but they’re jogging. Waving at the crowd. Treating faith like a fun run instead of a pursuit.
The question isn’t whether you’re busy. Everyone is busy.
The question is what you’re pouring your life into.
One Life. One Chance.
This is it.
One life.
One opportunity to influence.
One chance to give everything for the sake of the gospel.
The goal of the Christian life is not comfort—it’s faithfulness. Not ease—but obedience. Not preservation—but exhaustion for Christ.
So ask yourself:
Do I still have something left in the tank?
Am I running to win—or just getting by?
When I cross the finish line, will I fall into heaven spent?
There is no exhaustion like exhaustion for our Savior. And it is always worth it.
Don’t admire the race.
Run it.
Pour it all out.
For their souls.
