Sips & Script: Forged in Faith Men's Devotional, Chapter 3, Love and Leadership

If your patience is thin at home, your friendships feel shallow, or your marriage feels like you’re just coexisting, it might not be a “try harder” problem. It might be a connection problem. We’re walking through Chapter 3 of Forged in Faith and getting painfully practical about relationships: the ones that reveal who we are when the pressure is on and nobody’s watching.

We start with Ephesians 5:25 and the call for husbands to love with the self-giving pattern of Christ, not convenience, not mood, not scorekeeping. Then we sit with John 13, where Jesus leads with a towel in His hand, choosing servant leadership on the night He knows everyone will fail Him. That image forces a question: when is the last time I served my wife, my kids, or my people with no agenda and no need to be noticed?

From there, we talk about family discipleship through everyday rhythms in Deuteronomy 6, and we get honest about fatherhood with Colossians 3:21: high standards without warmth can crush a child’s spirit. We also address a quiet epidemic among men: isolation. Proverbs 27:17 only works with real contact, real conversations, and the courage to go first. Finally, we lay out a clear framework for conflict resolution from Ephesians 4:3, with humility, gentleness, patience, and intentional effort that protects unity.

If you want stronger Christian relationships, healthier communication, and biblical leadership that starts at home, press play. Subscribe, share this with a man you care about, and leave a review so more men can find the conversation.

Transcript

Welcome And Chapter 3 Focus

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Hey, welcome back to Sips and Script. I'm Javier. If you're new here, this is the show where we sit down. Pour something warm, open the word, and just talk. No fancy stuff, no performance, just real conversation about what it looks like to actually walk with God as a man in the middle of real life, not the cleaned up version of life, not the version you put on for church on Sunday morning, the actual version, the one with the hard days and the complicated relationships and the moments where you're not sure you're getting it right. That version, because that's the version most of us are actually living, and that's the version God meets us in. If you've been riding with me through chapters 1 and 2 of Forged in Faith, you already know what we're doing here. Chapter 1, we talked about foundation, what it means to build your life on something solid, not on your income or your reputation or your accomplishments or anything else the world tells you to build on, but on the word of God and a real relationship with Him. We talked about what happens when the storms come, and they always come, and why the only thing that holds is a life that's built on the rock. Chapter 2, we got into purpose, finding it, walking in it, trusting God when the road isn't clear and the next step isn't obvious. We talked about what it means to be a man who knows why he's here and who he's here for. Today we're in chapter 3, and I'll be honest with you, this one sat with me for a while when I was putting it together, because we're talking about relationships. And I don't mean relationships in some soft surface level way. I mean the real stuff. Your marriage, your kids, your boys, the people in your community, the people who actually see you every single day, who know what you're like when the pressure is on and the cameras are off, who experience the real version of you, whether you're putting your best foot forward or not. What does it look like to lead those people well? What does it look like to love them the way God actually called us to love? What does it look like to be the kind of man whose relationships are actually getting stronger over time instead of slowly drifting toward empty? Those are the questions we're sitting with today. And I think if we're honest, most of us have more room to grow in this area than we want to admit. Because relationships are hard, they're complicated, they require things from us that don't always come naturally. Humility, patience, vulnerability, consistency, the willingness to put someone else's needs ahead of our own on days when we barely feel like we have enough for ourselves. That is the call, and it is not easy, but it is worth it, and it is exactly what God designed us for. So let's get into it. The chapter opens talking about love and leadership, and it brings up Ephesians 5.25 right out the gate. Husbands, love your wives just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. Now that verse is familiar to a lot of us. We've heard it at weddings, we've seen it on wall decor, we've probably nodded along to it in a sermon at some point. But I want us to actually stop and really think about what it's saying, not just read it, think about it. Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. He gave himself up, that's not a small thing. That's not a nice sentiment, that's everything. His comfort, his preferences, his rights, his life, he gave all of it up. He didn't love the church when it was convenient. He didn't serve when he felt appreciated, he didn't show up only on the good days when everyone was grateful and things were going well. He poured himself out completely and sacrificially for people who were broken and messy, and who were going to let him down over and over again, and he did it willingly, and God says that is the standard for how you love your wife. Now I know some of us hear that and think that's impossible. And you're right. On our own it is, but that's kind of the whole point. God is not asking us to conjure up some superhuman level of love from our own reserves. He's asking us to stay so connected to him, so rooted in his word and his presence and his spirit that his love flows through us into the people around us. When we lose that connection, when we're running spiritually dry, when we're not feeding our own relationship with God, the first place it shows up is in our closest relationships every single time. Think about the last time you were really disconnected from God, really running on empty spiritually. What did that season do to how you showed up at home? How did it affect the way you talked to your wife? How patient were you with your kids? How present were you in your friendships? I already know the answer because I've lived it myself. When I'm not right with God, it shows up in my house first. The short fuse, the emotional unavailability, the irritability over small things, the inability to serve the people I love because I'm too depleted to give anything. That's what spiritual disconnection looks like in real life. And the fix is not trying harder to be a better husband or a better father. The fix is going back to the source. Getting back connected, getting back into the word, and back on your knees, and back into honest conversation with God. Because you cannot give what you don't have, and you cannot lead your family well when you're running on empty. So leading with love starts there. Before it starts with your wife, before it starts with your kids, it starts with your own relationship with God. That is the foundation that everything else is built on. And when that foundation is solid, the love that flows out of it into your relationships is real and sustainable, and it doesn't run out because it's not coming from you, it's coming through you. The chapter talks about Jesus washing the disciples' feet in John 13. And I love this passage because of the context it happens in. This is not some random Tuesday. This is the night before the crucifixion. Jesus knows exactly what's coming. He knows that Judas has already made the deal. He knows the arrest is hours away. He knows the cross is waiting. He knows that every single man sitting in that room with him is about to fail him in some way. Peter is going to deny him three times before sunrise. The rest are going to scatter and hide. He knows all of it, and with all of that knowledge, in that moment, what he chooses to do is get up from the table, take off his outer robe, wrap a towel around his waist, pick up a basin of water, and get down on his knees and wash the feet of his disciples, one by one, the feet that had walked all over that region with him for three years. Dirty feet, human feet. The feet of men who are about to let him down in the worst possible way. And then he looks at them and says, I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. That right there is the picture of leadership that God handed us. Not the corner office, not the title, not the man at the head of the table giving orders and expecting everyone to fall in line. The man on his knees, towel in hand. Serving the people he loves even when it costs him something, even when they don't deserve it, even when nobody is watching and nobody is applauding and there is nothing in it for him. That is the model, and it starts in your home. It starts in the most private, ordinary, unremarkable moments of your daily life, where the only audience is the people who already know you and love you. That is where real leadership gets built or lost. And I want to ask you something specific right now, not in a general way. Specifically. When is the last time you served your wife the way Jesus served his disciples? Not because she asked you to. Not because you were trying to score points. Not because you wanted something in return. When is the last time you just looked at her and thought, what does she need right now? And then went and did that thing? When is the last time you got low for her? When is the last time you carried something she was carrying? Just because you love her and you saw that she was tired and you could, when is the last time you did that for your kids? Just showed up fully, not distracted, not halfway present while you're scrolling your phone, fully there, fully engaged, eyes on them, listening to whatever they're talking about, even when it's not interesting to you, because they are interesting to you, because they matter to you, because being present with them is one of the most powerful things you can do as a father even when it doesn't feel profound. I'm not asking those questions to pile guilt on you, I'm asking them because growth starts with honesty. And the most important growth a man can experience is not professional growth or financial growth or even spiritual growth in some abstract sense. It's the growth that happens when you become a better husband, a better father, a better friend, a better neighbor. That growth changes everything. It changes your home, it changes your kids, it changes the people around you, and it changes you. Leading with love is a decision, not a feeling you wait for, not a season you get to, when life finally calms down. It is a decision you make today. In the ordinary moments, when you're tired, when you don't feel like it, when the relationship is in a hard place and serving feels like it's going in one direction. You choose it anyway, because that's what Christ did, and that's the man we're called to be. Now the chapter moves into family, and I want to spend some real time here because I think this is where a lot of men are carrying more weight than they know how to talk about. The chapter says our families are our first ministry, and I want you to really hear that. Not your church, not your podcast, not your business, not your nonprofit, or your community platform or anything else you're building out there in the world. Your family is your first ministry, the people under your roof, the ones who see you before you're ready to be seen, the ones who experience you at your best and your worst. Those people are your most important assignment, and Deuteronomy 667 gives us a really clear and really practical picture of what that ministry looks like. It says to keep these commandments in your heart and to impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home, when you walk along the road, when you lie down, when you get up. In other words, all the time, in the normal moments, in the transitions, in the car on the way to school, at the dinner table, during the bedtime routine, in the random conversations that happen when you're just doing life together and nobody planned anything spiritual but something real gets said anyway, because here's what Deuteronomy is telling us. Faith is not a Sunday morning event. It is not something you outsource to the church and then wonder why your kids don't have it when they get older. It is something you live out loud in the ordinary, everyday fabric of your family's life, so naturally and so consistently that your kids grow up breathing, it in without even realizing it. Not because you scheduled a formal family devotional every night, although there's nothing wrong with that, but because the way you actually live makes it clear that God is real and he matters, and walking with him is the most important thing a person can do with their life. Here's what I know about kids that I wish someone had told me earlier. They are watching you all the time. Not just when you're trying to teach them something all the time. They are watching how you talk to their mom when you think they're not paying attention. They're watching how you respond when something goes wrong. They're watching what you do when you're frustrated. They're watching who you are when it costs you something to do the right thing. They're taking all of it in and building a picture of what normal looks like, what a man looks like, what faith looks like when it's real, what love looks like when it's costly, and that picture your kids are building from watching you every day. That becomes the template for how they see God, for what they expect from a father, for what they think love is supposed to look like. That is a profound responsibility. And it means the most powerful sermon you will ever preach is the one your family watches. You live out in your own home when nobody's recording anything, and there's no platform and nothing to perform for. So the question isn't, are you telling your kids the right things? The question is, does the life they're watching back up what you're saying? Is the God you preach the same God they see you actually depending on? Is the prayer you talk about something they actually hear you doing? Is the faith you claim something they see shaping your actual decisions when it would be easier to take a different path? Because kids believe what they see way more than what they hear, and what they see you do when it's hard is what they'll remember when they're grown. Now, Colossians 3.21 adds something that I think is really important and that doesn't get talked about enough in conversations about fatherhood. It says, Fathers do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged. Don't provoke them. Don't be so relentlessly hard on them that something breaks in them. And I think a lot of good men, men who genuinely love their kids and genuinely want the best for them, end up doing this without realizing it. Not out of cruelty, out of high standards that become crushing, out of correction that never gets balanced with affirmation, out of a leadership style that is heavy on holding the line and light on expressing warmth. Here's what I've learned your kids need to feel your love before they can really receive your correction. They need to feel safe with you before they'll be honest with you about what's really going on in their lives. They need to experience your warmth and your delight in them before they'll trust your wisdom when things get hard. And if the only thing they consistently feel from you is expectation and correction and disappointment when they fall short, they won't come to you when they're struggling, they'll hide it, they'll perform for you. They'll try to manage your reactions instead of actually connecting with you, and you'll lose access to them right when they need you most. The standard is not perfection, for them or for you. The standard is love, firm, consistent, present, engaged, patient love, the kind that disciplines with purpose and affirms with warmth. The kind that celebrates what your kids do right at least as loudly as it addresses what they do wrong. The kind that makes them feel like no matter what happens, no matter how badly they mess up, they can come to you and you're going to be a safe place for them. That is the father we're called to be. Not the perfect father, the present one, the one who shows up and stays engaged and keeps choosing his kids even when they're difficult, and even when parenting is exhausting and even when he doesn't have it all figured out. Now let's talk about friendships, because this is the area where I think men are the most behind and the least honest about it. We don't do friendships well, most of us. And it's not because we're bad people, it's because we've been taught our whole lives that needing people is weakness, that real men handle their own stuff, that self-sufficiency is strength, and vulnerability is a liability, and so we learn to keep our distance, we keep things surface level, we talk about sports and work and whatever's on TV, and we never once have a conversation about anything that actually matters, and then we wonder why we feel isolated. Why something feels missing even when our life looks fine from the outside. Proverbs 27:17 says, iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another. I love that verse, but I want to point out something about it that I think we miss when we quote it. Iron sharpens iron through contact. Real contact, friction. The two pieces of metal have to actually come together and rub against each other for sharpening to happen. You can't sharpen iron from a distance. You can't sharpen iron through a text message or a social media like or a casual, hey man, how's it going in the church lobby? Sharpening requires closeness. It requires real access. And that's what real friendship requires. You have to give someone access to the real version of you, not the highlight reel, not the everything is fine version, the actual version, the one that's struggling sometimes, the one that's scared sometimes, the one that doesn't have all the answers and doesn't always make the right calls and is carrying things that are heavier than they look from the outside. Do you have even one man in your life right now who has access to that version of you? One man who knows what's actually going on with you, not the surface stuff, the real stuff. One man you could call at 2 in the morning if things fell apart, and you wouldn't have to spend the first 10 minutes pretending you're okay before you got to the actual reason you called? If the answer is yes, protect that friendship, invest in it, don't take it for granted. That's a rare thing, and it matters more than you probably realize. If the answer is no, I want to say something to you clearly and without judgment. That's not a life sentence. That's a starting point, and it changes when somebody decides to go first. Somebody always has to go first in building that kind of friendship. Somebody has to be honest before it feels completely safe. Somebody has to lower the wall, before the other person feels like it's okay to lower theirs. And in male friendships, almost nobody wants to go first because everybody is waiting for somebody else to open the door. So the door stays closed and the friendships stay at surface level and everybody goes home alone. Even when they've been surrounded by people all day. Be the guy who goes first. Ask the real questions. How are you actually doing, not just how are you, what's really going on with you right now? What are you wrestling with? What's keeping you up at night? And then when you ask those questions, be ready to share your own real answers. Because most men will not open up until they see someone else open up first. Your honesty gives other men permission to be honest. Your willingness to be real creates space for real to happen. And that is how iron sharpens iron. Not through polished surface-level interaction, through real contact, real access, real friendship that goes somewhere. Investing in those friendships looks like showing up when it's inconvenient. It looks like picking up the phone instead of just texting. It looks like making time for people, even when your schedule is full because you've decided that your relationships are a priority and not just a nice to have when you happen to have margin. It looks like being the kind of friend who remembers what someone told you last time and asks about it next time, who actually pays attention. Who actually cares about what's happening in the life of the person in front of him. And sometimes it looks like saying the hard thing, because that's part of sharpening too. Real friends don't just affirm you. Real friends care enough about you to tell you when you're wrong, when you're headed in a direction that's going to cost you, when the pattern they're seeing in your life is one that needs to be interrupted. And they do it not to make you feel bad, but because they're actually for you, because they love you enough to risk the awkwardness of an honest conversation over the comfort of just telling you what you want to hear. That's what a real friend does, and that's the kind of friend we should be trying to be. Now Matthew 5.16 takes us beyond our inner circle and into the broader community around us. Jesus says to let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. And I want to be careful here because I think a lot of us have been taught to think about this verse in terms of big visible public gestures. Going on a mission trip, starting a ministry, building something with your name on it. And none of those things are bad, but that's not primarily what Jesus is talking about. The light he's describing is not a spotlight, it's not a platform, it's not a grand gesture that gets noticed and applauded. It's the quiet, consistent, faithful way. You live your ordinary life in full view of the people around you every single day. It's the neighbor who shows up when someone on his street has a need. The coworker who treats people with dignity and respect even when the culture around him doesn't. The man who volunteers not because it looks good on his resume, but because there's a real need in his community and he has something to give. The mentor who takes time out of his week to invest in a younger man because he remembers what it felt like to need someone to believe in him and nobody showed up. That's the light. And here's the thing about light. It doesn't need to be loud to be effective. It just needs to be consistent. It just needs to be real. A candle in a dark room doesn't have to announce itself. Its presence changes the environment just by being what it is. And when you're genuinely living out your faith in the ordinary, everyday moments of your life, when people see how you treat your wife and how you parent your kids, and how you show up for your community and how you respond when things go wrong, that light is working even when you're not aware of it. It's changing the environment around you just by being real. I want to say something specific about mentoring, because I genuinely believe it is one of the most undervalued and most needed investments a man can make in his community. There are younger men in your world right now who are watching you whether you know it or not, who are trying to piece together a picture of what it looks like to be a man of God in real life. Not in theory, not in a sermon, an actual daily life with actual pressures and actual failures and actual grace. And a lot of what they have access to in terms of models is not giving them what they need. You don't need a program to mentor someone. You don't need a curriculum or a formal arrangement or a title. You just need to be a few steps further down the road than the person you're mentoring and willing to let them walk close enough to actually see how you live. Willing to be honest about what you've gotten wrong, as much as what you've gotten right, willing to answer the real questions even when the real questions are uncomfortable. Willing to invest time and attention and presence in someone who genuinely cannot give you anything in return. That's mentoring. And the return on that investment, the man that younger guy becomes because someone showed up for him when it mattered, that is one of the most significant things you will ever do with your life. Long after everything else fades, that fruit remains. Now the chapter gets into conflict because no honest conversation about relationships is complete without it. And I appreciate that the chapter doesn't skip over this part because I think a lot of us need permission to talk about this stuff. Ephesians 4.3 says to be completely humble and gentle, to be patient, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. Let me say something before I break this down. No relationship is perfect, not your marriage, not your relationship with your kids, not your friendships, not your relationships with coworkers or people in your church or anyone else. No relationship is perfect because no person is perfect. And I think one of the most damaging things we can believe about relationships is that if they're hard, something must be fundamentally wrong, that conflict is a sign of a broken relationship rather than just a sign of two imperfect people trying to do life together. Conflict is inevitable. In every relationship that goes deep enough to matter, you're going to experience conflict. The question is not whether conflict will come, it will. The question is what kind of man you're going to be when it does. Are you going to be a man who handles conflict in a way that strengthens the relationship? Or are you going to be a man who handles it in a way that slowly erodes the trust and the safety that took years to build? Ephesians gives us four things to bring into conflict, and I want to walk through each one because I think they're more practical than they might sound at first. Humility. In the middle of a conflict, humility means being willing to consider that you might be wrong. That your perspective might not be the complete picture, that the person you're in conflict with has something real and valid to say, even if they're saying it in a way that's making it hard for you to hear it. Now that is genuinely hard, especially for men who have been wired from the time they were young, to see admitting fault as losing, to see backing down as weakness. To see being wrong is something to be avoided at almost any cost. But humility is not weakness. Humility is security. It's being so grounded in who you are and whose you are that you don't need to win every argument to feel okay about yourself. A man who can say I was wrong, I hear you, I didn't see it that way, and I should have, that man is not weak, that man is strong in the way that actually matters. Strong enough to prioritize the relationship over his ego. Strong enough to put the other person's need to be heard above his own need to be right. That's the kind of strength that builds trust over time. And trust is the foundation of every relationship that actually lasts. Gentleness is about the temperature of your communication, the way you use your words and your tone and your body language when you're under pressure. Because here's the truth about conflict. Most of the damage that happens in conflicts doesn't happen because of what gets said. It happens because of how it gets said, the tone that came with it, the edge in the voice, the dismissive body language, the way a word gets used as a weapon instead of a bridge. Proverbs 15. One says a gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. That is a spiritual law that plays out in real time in every hard conversation you will ever have. Lower your voice when everything in you wants to raise it. Choose your words carefully when your emotions are pushing you toward careless ones. Stay in the conversation when the easier thing would be to shut down and walk away. That discipline in the heat of the moment is one of the most powerful things a man can develop. Patience in conflict is the willingness to give people room, room to process things at their own pace, room to be wrong and work their way through it. Room to feel their feelings before they can get to resolution. Room to come around to something they're not ready to see yet. We live in a culture that demands instant resolution, instant response, instant clarity, and relationships don't work that way. People don't work that way sometimes. The most loving thing you can do in the middle of a conflict is give someone time, give them space to breathe, give them the grace of not rushing them to a resolution that they haven't actually reached yet. Patience is love with a long memory for grace and a short memory for offenses, and it is one of the most countercultural things you can bring into a relationship. And then effort, making every effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace. That phrase every effort tells me something that I think is really important. Unity doesn't maintain itself. It doesn't survive on autopilot, it doesn't coast on good intentions or past history. It requires active intentional, sometimes exhausting effort to build and protect and restore when it gets damaged. You have to choose it, you have to pursue it. You have to be the kind of man who does not walk away. When relationships get hard, but who does the work, however uncomfortable and however long it takes, to restore what got broken? Because Here's what I know about relationships that make it through the hard seasons. They're not perfect. They didn't avoid the conflict. They didn't pretend the hard stuff wasn't hard. They went through it. And on the other side of going through it together, they found something stronger than what they had before. A deeper trust, a deeper understanding, a deeper connection. Because they chose the relationship over the comfort of walking away. And that choice, made over and over again across the years of a marriage, or a friendship, or a family, that's what builds something that actually lasts. Now the chapter closes with something I want to land on. Strengthening relationships requires intentional effort and a heart aligned with God's love. By leading with love and serving others, we not only enrich our own lives but also reflect Christ's love to the world around us. Intentional. That's the word I keep coming back to, because I think that word is the difference between the men who build relationships that actually go somewhere and the men who wake up one day wondering why the people they love feel like strangers. Intentional means you decide. Not when you feel like it, not when it's convenient, not when everything else is handled, and you finally have margin. You decide now that your relationships are a priority and you build your life in a way that reflects that decision. Intentional with your wife means you're not just coexisting, you're pursuing her. You're making time for real conversation. You're paying attention to what she needs and what she's carrying and what would make her feel genuinely loved and seen. You're doing the small things consistently because you know it's the small things done consistently over time that build a marriage that's actually alive. Intentional with your kids means you're present. Really present. Not just physically in the same house, but actually engaged with who they are and what they care about and what's going on in their world. It means you know your kids, you know what they're into, you know what they're struggling with, you know what makes them light up and what scares them and what they dream about. Because you've been paying attention, because you've been showing up, because you've decided that knowing your kids is worth more than anything else you could be doing with that time. Intentional with your friendships means you stop assuming they'll be fine without investment. They won't. Every relationship that matters requires someone to keep choosing it, keep showing up for it, keep putting in the time and the honesty and the presence that keeps it alive and moving towards something real. And intentional in your community means you stop waiting for someone else to be the light and you just be it, right where you are with what you have. For the people in front of you, not perfectly, not loudly, just faithfully, consistently. In a way that points back to God and not to you. The chapter ends with this by leading with love and serving others, we not only enrich our own lives, but also reflect Christ's love to the world around us. That's the whole thing right there. Your relationships are not just personal, they're a testimony. The way you love your wife is showing someone something about how Christ loves his church. The way you father your kids is showing someone something about how God fathers his children. The way you show up for your friends and your community is showing someone that the kingdom of God is real and it changes people, and it produces something that the world doesn't produce on its own. That's what's at stake in how you lead your relationships, not just your own happiness or your family's health or your own legacy. The witness of the gospel in the lives of the people watching you, and people are always watching. They're watching in your home, they're watching in your neighborhood, they're watching at work and at church and in every space you occupy. And what they see in how you love the people around you either draws them toward God or gives them one more reason to keep their distance. Let's close with the reflection questions from chapter 3. How can you lead with love in your current relationships? I want you to be specific about that. Pick one relationship, the one that needs the most from you right now. What would it actually look like to lead that person with love this week? Not in theory, in practice. What specific thing could you do that would make that person feel genuinely loved and genuinely led well? And what steps can you take to strengthen your family and your friendships? Again, not a list of ten things. One thing. The one thing that would make the biggest difference if you actually committed to it and did it consistently, name it. Write it down, tell someone so you're accountable to it, and then go do it. Because faith without action is just good intentions. And the people in your life need more than your good intentions. They need you present, consistent, choosing love. Every single day. Let's pray. Lord, thank you for every relationship you have placed in our lives. Thank you for our wives and our children and our friends and our communities. We confess that we haven't always shown up the way we should. We've been selfish when we should have served, harsh when we should have been gentle, absent when our people needed us present, proud when we should have been humble. Lord, forgive us for that, and do what only you can do in our relationships. Make us men who lead like Jesus led on our knees, towel in hand, giving ourselves up for the people we love. Give us humility in the hard conversations, gentleness when the pressure is on, patience when growth is slow, and the kind of intentional consistent love that builds something real over time, something that lasts, something that points everyone around us back to you. In Jesus' name, amen. That's chapter three of Forged in Faith. Thank you for spending this time with me today. If this spoke to you, share it with a man in your life who needs to hear it, and grab your copy of Forged in Faith at the Compass Collective NYC. I'll see you next week.