Saturdays have a way of making you honest. Not dramatic, just honest.

By Friday, you’ve had enough time to think about the things you tried this week… and the things you probably shouldn’t have tried. And since my whole theme lately has been “things I tried and failed at,” Friday feels like the perfect day to talk about the after‑effects of those attempts.

Thursday is an interesting day. It’s far enough into the week for you to be honest with yourself, but not far enough to pretend you’ve already succeeded at everything you planned on Monday.

Yesterday I talked about loving basketball even though I was short enough to qualify as a “floor‑level player.” Today I want to talk about something related, the strange, hilarious moments in life when effort outruns ability.

When I was young, I loved basketball. Loved it. I mean loved it in a way that completely ignored reality.

I’ve tried a lot of things in my life. Some worked. Some didn’t. And some failed so spectacularly that even now I can’t think about them without shaking my head and laughing a little.

Saturdays feel different. Not because they’re loud, but because they’re honest.

Fridays have a way of revealing things. Not loudly, but honestly.

There are days when God works quietly… and then there are days when He shifts something without announcing it. You wake up expecting routine, but somewhere between morning coffee and evening prayer, you sense it, a nudge, a stirring, a holy uneasiness that doesn’t come from stress or fear. It comes from Him.

Some weeks don’t feel remarkable. They don’t arrive with thunderclaps or revelations. They come quietly, like a soft sunrise over Hartley Bridge Road, the kind you only notice if you pause long enough to look.

Isaiah 63:1 “Who is this… mighty to save?”

Isaiah 63:1 — “Who is this… mighty to save?”