Leadership today is not just about talent or title—it is about trajectory. And Proverbs 9:6 offers a sharp challenge: "Leave your simple ways and you will live; walk in the way of insight." In a world that often celebrates surface-level charisma and shortcut solutions, this verse calls emerging leaders to leave behind the path of ease and embrace the deeper, often harder, journey of wisdom and discernment.
The “simple way” is attractive—easy decisions, quick gains, and crowd approval. But it often leads to stagnation, even destruction. The way of insight, by contrast, demands self-reflection, discipline, and Spirit-led discernment. It invites leaders to grow through learning, to lead with vision not impulse, and to ground their lives in the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of wisdom.
Next gen leaders are forming in an age of information overload but insight scarcity. Leadership in such a time must be rooted in spiritual wisdom, cultivated in sacred silence, sharpened in community, and applied in real-world contexts. Proverbs reminds us that true life—abundant, impactful, eternal—flows from walking in insight.
The future belongs to those who reject the shallow and embrace the substantial. God is raising leaders who do not simply follow trends but set them—who move from simplicity to spiritual insight.
Let us not merely live. Let us lead with insight.
Change is inevitable—but how we approach it reveals the strength of our leadership and the depth of our discipleship. The Bible never calls us to passive adaptation, but to intentional transformation. Change is not always right or wrong in itself—it gains value by the direction it takes us. Proverbs 14:12 warns, “There is a way that appears to be right, but in the end it leads to death.” Not all change is progress; and not all resistance is wisdom.
Secondly, change is hard. Romans 8:7 reminds us that the flesh resists anything that brings us closer to God. The pursuit of comfort can be the greatest enemy of spiritual and leadership growth. True change begins with surrender and is sustained by the Spirit.
Third, people fear change because it shakes their sense of security. But Proverbs 3:5 calls us to “trust in the Lord… and lean not on our own understanding.” When our security is rooted in the unchanging character of God, we can embrace change with peace, not panic.
Finally, biblical success demands growth—and growth demands change. Ephesians 4:15 urges us to “grow… into Him who is the Head, Christ.” Maturity is not optional. The seed must break for the tree to rise.
Change is not your enemy—it is God’s instrument of formation. Leaders must discern its direction, embrace its challenge, and let it mold them into Christlike vessels.
Sometimes healing comes in layers. In Mark 8, Jesus touches a blind man twice—once to open his eyes, and again to restore full vision. It is a striking reminder that spiritual clarity is not always instant. We may be opened to truth, but not yet fully transformed. It takes the second touch.
The first touch opened the man’s eyes, but he saw “people like trees walking.” Blurred. Confused. Partial. Many of us live in that in-between—seeing, but not clearly. We begin the journey of faith, but fears cloud our path. We understand God’s love, but struggle to apply it. We believe, yet we wrestle with doubt.
But Jesus does not leave us in the blur. He touches again. That second touch restores and clarifies. The man now sees “everything clearly.” In Greek, the word used denotes sharp, defined sight—no more confusion, no more guessing. This is the vision we need: not only to see life, but to see it as God sees.
Leaders too must seek the second touch—clarity of purpose, restored vision, and divine perspective. In this age of noise, half-truths, and distraction, we cannot settle for partial sight..
Let us pray for the second touch of Christ—not just to open our eyes, but to make our vision whole, clear, and Kingdom-focused.
Leadership often exposes our vulnerability. There are moments when strategy fails, resources run dry, and even our strongest allies cannot rescue us. Asa, the king of Judah, knew this reality. Confronted by a vastly superior enemy, he turned not to his military might but to the Lord—acknowledging the painful truth of his powerlessness and the unmatched power of God.
It is in this posture of humility that true spiritual leadership is formed. Asa’s prayer is not just a cry for help—it is a declaration of faith. He recognizes a vital truth: God alone helps the powerless against the mighty. When we surrender our illusion of control and call upon God, we exchange fear for faith, anxiety for assurance.
This scripture reminds us that divine help does not require human strength. In fact, God’s power is made perfect in our weakness. Whether leading organizations, families, or ministries, we must resist the urge to depend on our capabilities and instead rely wholly on God’s sufficiency.
Asa’s victory was not won by sword but by surrender. And ours will be too. Let us lead with the courage that comes from confidence in God, not ourselves. For when we are outnumbered and overwhelmed, the Lord remains unmatched—our Helper, Defender, and Strength.
We live in an age where balance feels like a chase. We run after it—juggling our work, family, faith, and dreams—only to find ourselves breathless and broken. But Scripture paints a very different picture. Balance is not something we chase—it is something we build. And like any strong structure, it requires a solid foundation.
This Rock is Christ Himself. His covenant is not a quick fix or a motivational mantra. It is a long-term relationship, built on grace, shaped through obedience, and sustained by trust. When we remain anchored in God’s covenant, balance is no longer a moving target. It becomes a steady construction—brick by brick—through spiritual disciplines, relational integrity, wise stewardship, and restful surrender.
Chasing balance exhausts us. Building balance shapes us.
The difference lies in posture: the anxious grip of self-reliance versus the surrendered strength of faith. A covenant life does not promise ease, but it promises anchoring. And from that place of anchoring, a purposeful and whole life rises.
Let us stop striving to catch balance. Instead, let us lay it down one obedient step at a time, on the unwavering foundation of God’s covenant love.
On this Father’s Day, we pause not merely to celebrate biology, but to honour the sacred calling of fatherhood—a divine trust grounded in both privilege and responsibility. The Apostle Paul, though unmarried and without biological children, embraced spiritual fatherhood with depth and conviction. His letters to Timothy, Titus, and the Corinthian church reveal a model of fatherhood shaped not by dominance, but by discipleship.
Paul understood that fatherhood involves more than provision—it demands presence, example, and exhortation. “For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children,” he wrote, “encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God” (1 Thessalonians 2:11–12). True fatherhood nurtures, guides, and corrects with love and purpose.
In a culture that often reduces fatherhood to a role or function, Paul reminds us that it is a vocation—a spiritual responsibility to reflect God’s heart. We are watching a generation rise up without role models, without anchors, and without values. The absence of fathers—physical, emotional, and spiritual—has left a deep wound.
The Apostle Paul steps into this void with a striking declaration: “I became your father in Christ Jesus.” He was not speaking as a biological parent, but as a spiritual one—present, committed, and invested. This is the kind of fatherhood our world needs: not just providers, but protectors of values, mentors of faith, and models of integrity.
We live in a time when screens are louder than voices at the dinner table, and trends teach more than truth. In such a time, the role of fathers—and spiritual fathers—becomes even more critical. Young hearts need someone to say, “Imitate me, as I imitate Christ.”
Fathers are links in a divine chain. Our calling is to remember, retell, and relay the truth of God to future generations. Let us not drop the baton. Let us tell our children—not just once, but again and again—so they, too, may rise and carry the flame. Tony Evans once said, “A godly father is not perfect, but he is present, purposeful, and pursuing God's best for his family.”
The next generation is not just looking—they are longing. May today be a recommitment to that holy calling, for all fathers, spiritual and biological.
My deepest sympathies and thoughts go out to everyone affected by the catastrophic Dreamliner crash. This tragedy has left behind not just a wreckage of metal and fire, but of human hope and future. Lives full of promise were cut short in a moment. Families are grieving. A community is shaken. And the question that quietly haunts the soul arises again—what is life, and how should we live it?
Another way to read this verse is:“Lord, teach us to make our days count!” Not just to count our days, but to make each one meaningful—investing in relationships, serving with purpose, forgiving quickly, and living with eternal perspective. Life is not measured by its length, but by its depth.
None of us is promised tomorrow. We live under the illusion of control, planning for decades ahead while forgetting that our breath is borrowed. The only moment that truly belongs to us is now—the present. This is the time to live, to love deeply, to laugh freely, to serve generously, and to shape the legacy we will one day leave behind.
We must plan as if we will live forever—with vision, stewardship, and purpose. But we must also live as if today were our last—with passion, forgiveness, and courage. When death visits suddenly, it forces us to face what truly matters.
The lives lost in this tragedy must not be forgotten. Let their stories compel us to live more intentionally. To number our days is not to fear death—it is to treasure life. Each day is a sacred gift.
Live it well.
The other day, while traveling in the city, my co-passenger and I were reflecting on the increasing aggression in our everyday surroundings. Whether in traffic or queues, public offices or marketplaces, the common thread is unmistakable: impatience, pushiness, and a growing sense of entitlement. People cut in line, speak rudely, or demand service—often without a hint of consideration for others.
Why this relentless urge to dominate? To push past? To be first?
Underneath this behavior lies a deeper fracture—an internal void fueled by insecurity and fear. It is a culture shaped by self-preservation rather than shared humanity. And yet, into this fractured world, the Gospel calls us to a better way.
Paul writes in Titus 3:8 that mature Believers must “devote themselves to doing what is good.” It is not optional. It is not seasonal. It is the default setting of the Christian life—eager, ready, and devoted to goodness. It is this self-giving posture that makes faith attractive and credible in a watching world.
The German philosopher Immanuel Kant spoke of the “categorical imperative”—a moral law that commands universally, not based on outcomes, but on the principle itself. In simple terms: “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can, at the same time, will that it should become a universal law.” In other words, treat others the way every human ought to be treated—not for reward or recognition, but because it is right and that is the right thing to do.
This resonates deeply with Christian ethics. Jesus did not push others aside to get ahead. He served them, touched them, healed them—without expecting anything in return. He lived the ultimate categorical imperative when He laid down His life for others. Christians are called to imitate this: to do good not because it is beneficial, but because it is beautiful and true.
Imagine a world where people no longer act based on what they can get away with, but rather on what they would want others to imitate. Imagine a city where Believers let others go first in line, where kindness interrupts conflict, and grace governs behavior. This is not idealism—it is discipleship.
Through the vision of ACHIEVE 2040, we envision a church in every village—a community of Believers who reflect this alternative lifestyle. Not just in words, but in witness. Not just in doctrine, but in daily behavior.
In a world shaped by competition, Christ calls us to shape culture through compassion.