With bowties and books, some of my interests might surprise you. I’ve always had an affinity for cars. My dad watched NASCAR when I was growing up. I went to a race with my brother to Bristol, TN, which is famously called the Thunder Valley. It remains one of my favorite sports experiences as an adult. However, the spark really caught in 2007 when I visited England and discovered Top Gear. As a fan, I started paying attention—not just to the jokes and stunts, but to the craftsmanship and the stories behind the machines.

The recent widening of the Iran conflict has forced that clarity upon us. On February 28, 2026, U.S. and Israeli strikes killed Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and other senior Iranian figures, pushing a long-shadow war into a far more direct and dangerous phase. In the days that followed, Iran retaliated not only against Israel but also against Gulf countries hosting U.S. forces, broadening the conflict across the region.

Leadership rarely collapses all at once. More often, it decays gradually. A leader casts a compelling vision, followers rally behind it, a culture forms around it, and before long, an institution can no longer tell the difference between excellence and illusion. What began as ambition becomes deception. What looked like momentum turns out to be moral rot. That is one of the enduring lessons from the Volkswagen emissions scandal.

Christians today live in a deeply political age. News cycles, social media, and public discourse constantly frame our world through political categories—liberal and conservative, Democrat and Republican, left and right. These labels are used as if they represent fixed ideological systems. Yet in reality, they are far more fluid than most people realize.

When we consider the growth of Christianity in China, we are quickly reminded of the ongoing persecution of Christians by the Chinese government. A recent report by ChinaAid documented widespread repression of believers across the country. ChinaAid president and founder Bob Fu expressed grave concern over how both house churches and state-sanctioned churches are being treated. According to the watchdog organization Open Doors, China has approximately 96.7 million Christians, many of whom face increasing restrictions.

Some rooms don’t let you in unless your name is on the list. That’s how exclusive events work. The Met Gala, arguably the most famous invitation-only event in the world, runs on approval, connections, and gatekeepers. If the right person doesn’t approve of you, you don’t get in. The velvet rope doesn’t care how sincere you are, how badly you want it, or how confident you sound at the door.

In a conversation with a friend, we discussed the thought: there’s a Hall of Fame for everything—tow trucks, insurance, even cockroaches. But the real question is sharper:

If there were a Christian Hall of Fame, who would be in it—and by what standard?

I recently finished the final season of Stranger Things. The season had its uneven moments, but I was genuinely satisfied with how the story ended. I also laughed at how often the writers staged deep, emotionally honest conversations while the world was literally collapsing around the characters. Still, after five seasons of battles with the Mind Flayer and Vecna—after the Upside Down, the abyss, and everything in between—the series closes where it began: in a basement, among friends.

I believe in preaching. But a 45-minute monologue once a week—delivered by one person—cannot, by itself, meet the discipleship needs of an entire congregation. Weekly Bible studies provide another layer, but many believers can’t attend consistently because of work and family constraints. So we’re left with a practical question: how do we provide consistent, effective discipleship to most Christians?

My answer is simple: people must read more.

We live in an era where leadership training is everywhere. Books, podcasts, and conferences promise the latest framework, the newest method, the secret that will finally “move the needle.” Pastors and church leaders, in particular, are routinely targeted as prime consumers of leadership content.

And yet leadership remains in crisis.

Many people had already “followed” Jesus—right up until his words offended them or his mission threatened their dreams. In John 6, after Jesus refused to be used as a political deliverer or a bread machine, the crowd thinned fast:

“After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.” (John 6:66)

That’s the danger Jesus is addressing in John 16. Not merely external persecution, but internal collapse—when the thing you really love gets threatened, and Jesus no longer seems worth it. So the question beneath the passage is not, “Will you face pressure?” You will. The question is: “What will hold you when you do?” Because what you love will hold you.

When I worked at Central Church in Collierville, Tennessee, I had a daily routine I came to love. After parking by the Worship Center, I’d walk straight into Central’s coffee shop and bookstore—the Crosswalk—managed by Carlene Boldizar. Without fail, she’d hand me the best cup of coffee in town: beans roasted by her husband, George, and brewed to perfection by Carlene herself.

About an hour before the event, I spotted a beat-up car slowly wandering through the parking lot near the classic show vehicles. My heart rate skyrocketed. Certain this lone assassin was seconds away from totaling someone’s prized ’68 Camaro, I locked eyes on the threat and marched heroically toward the scene—only to walk directly into a metal No Parking sign.

With only two months to breathe life into a brand-new concept—and as the only person on the planning team actually employed by Central Church—I rushed straight to work. We decided early on that football would anchor our first Gameday event, since the season launches in August and resonates deeply with our community. But the goal was never just an evening of free food, bounce houses, and football décor. Our vision was to introduce Central Church, and the warmth of her people, to the community through a shared cultural love. Grilled hot dogs and games alone wouldn’t accomplish that.