This year, what if we chose something deeper? Let's take a look at reflections vs resolutions.
As we step into 2026, many of us feel the familiar pull of a new year—the clean slate, the fresh start, the pressure to decide who we will become in the next twelve months. I was ready to let go of 2025, and I'm excited for a new day in 2026 - check in here if you missed my last blog.
If you are like me, "resolutions" seem to come to mind at the same time we think of a new year: goals to be thinner, stronger, more productive, more organized, more disciplined. While there is nothing inherently wrong with resolutions and goals that gear toward growth or intentionality, the danger is that our focus so easily drifts toward self-improvement while quietly neglecting soul formation.

Psalm 65:11 declares, “You crown the year with Your goodness, and Your paths drip with abundance.” This is not a picture of us striving to make the year good - it's a picture of God Himself placing a crown of goodness upon it. The year ahead is not crowned by our resolve, our willpower, or our perfectly executed plans. It is crowned by the goodness of God. That truth invites us to begin the year not with pressure, but with trust. That truth may lead you to make reflections vs resolutions.
Rather than asking, “What do I want to accomplish this year?” perhaps the better question for 2026 is, “Who am I becoming in Christ?”
Where have I been tempted to trust my own effort more than God’s goodness as I look ahead?
Scripture consistently calls us away from frantic striving and toward faithful abiding. In Isaiah 43:18–19, the Lord says, “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” God is not merely interested in helping us refine old patterns—He is inviting us into something new altogether. New depths of trust. New ways of walking with Him. New levels of surrender that cannot grow in soil cluttered by yesterday’s disappointments or successes.
However - perceiving the “new thing” God is doing requires space. Stillness. Souls that are not overcrowded by noise, hurry, and self-imposed expectations.
Rather than asking, “How can I improve on last year?” perhaps the better question for 2026 is, “Who am I becoming in Christ as He does something new in me?”
What former things might God be inviting me to release so I can perceive what He is doing now?
We live in a world that rewards hustle and measures worth by output. Even within Christian spaces, we can quietly absorb the belief that spiritual maturity is proven by how much we do for God. Yet Scripture reminds us that transformation flows from identity, not activity. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17).
This is not a future promise—it is a present reality. In Christ, we are already made new. Growth in the Christian life is not about earning a new identity, but learning to live from the one we have been given. When we forget this, our faith becomes performance-driven, and intimacy with God slowly gives way to pressure.
Rather than asking, “What spiritual habits should I add this year?” perhaps the better question for 2026 is, “Who am I becoming in Christ as I live from my new identity?”
Where might I be striving to prove my faith instead of resting in who I already am in Him?
Tending a soul is slow, intentional work. It looks like lingering in Scripture instead of rushing through a plan. It looks like prayer that is honest rather than polished. It looks like creating margin to listen, repent, trust, and return—again and again. Soul care is not flashy, but it is where intimacy with God is cultivated.
Jeremiah 29:11 reminds us, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” These words were spoken to people in exile—people living in the tension between promise and fulfillment. God’s good plans do not eliminate hardship, but they anchor us in hope and faithfulness while we wait.
Rather than asking, “How can I control what happens this year?” perhaps the better question for 2026 is, “Who am I becoming in Christ as I trust His plans?”
What would it look like to tend my soul instead of trying to manage every outcome?
As we enter 2026, many of us carry unseen burdens from the year behind us—losses, unanswered prayers, fatigue from doing all the “right things” without seeing fruit. Choosing intimacy with Christ does not ignore those realities, but it reframes them. Faithfulness is not measured by visible success, but by quiet obedience, daily surrender, and continued trust.
We can be confident of this: as we are faithful to God, He will surely be faithful to us. He always has been. He always will be.
Perhaps this year, we release the pressure to reinvent ourselves and instead choose abiding over striving. We choose depth over distraction. Faithfulness over frenzy. Formation over performance. Reflections vs resolutions.
May 2026 be a year crowned with His goodness. May your soul be tended with care. And may your greatest growth be found not in what you accomplish, but in who you are becoming in Christ. What a treasure that would be!
Let's continue the conversation on the podcast! Join me on Thursday at 10:00 - subscribe here: https://www.youtube.com/@JenniferWSpivey
Want help achieving your resolutions in 2026? A new cohort is forming now at wwww.connectmentoringnetwork.org. All kinds of resources, all at your fingertips and all at your schedule. A Christian mentor can make all the difference - let's connect and grow together in 2026!
This one is different, I just wanted to reflect on my year, record it, save it so I can look back. Today I think I could never forget 2025, but time always seems to move on.... I also left this one at www.jenniferwspivey.org, that site has always been more personal. Thanks for hanging with me - maybe you had a 2025 too, and can relate. I'm glad we're connecting today:

2025 was that year for me.
I don’t think I realized how much 2025 took out of me until I finally paused long enough to look back. It was a year of so many changes—some expected, some sudden, some welcome, some unwelcome. A year where my mental, spiritual, and physical reserves were stretched in ways I never anticipated. In the same twelve months, grief can sit beside joy, loss can hold hands with gain, and exhaustion can coexist with wonder. That was the paradox, the tension, the beauty of this year.
Some years ask more of us than others. Some years feel like an uphill climb. Some years stretch us until we’re not sure how much more we can give. 2025 was that year for me.
Some years give more than we ever expected. Some years feel like a downhill run with the wind at your back. Some years fill you until you’re not sure your heart can hold any more gratitude. 2025 was that year for me.
All the changes—good ones, hard ones, and everything in between—pulled at my mental, spiritual, and physical energy. There were days I handled it with grace, and days I handled it with grit.
And then there were days I handled it only because God held me together. (Can anyone else relate to “fake it ‘til you make it”? Those 29 years of “pastor’s wife frozen smile and I’m fine” came in handy on some days…. )
Some things this year turned out exactly as I had hoped or envisioned. Those were the moments that felt like fresh air—like God placing a gentle hand on my shoulder and whispering, “See? I’m working.”
Other things turned out so differently I had to fight to keep my footing. I had to remind myself to breathe, to pray, to steady my heart.
Some things came to such an abrupt halt that it made my head spin. Change that sudden can be jarring, even when we know God is sovereign.
And then—right alongside the hard—there were moments so full of joy I could hardly contain them. Laughter that surprised me. Blessings that overwhelmed me. Grace that arrived at the perfect moment.
This year, seasons ended. New seasons began. Some doors closed quietly, others slammed shut. Some opened gently, and some burst open wide with opportunity.
Joy and grief sat in the same room.
Consolation and celebration shared the same table.
Loss and gain held hands.
I learned—again—that life rarely separates its emotions neatly.
2025 was that year for me.
Yet through every part of it, God was in it all: not just at the points of triumph, not only in the moments of clarity. He was present in the chaos, the confusion, the uncertainty, the exhaustion.
He was faithful when I felt strong.
He was faithful when I felt undone.
He celebrated when I celebrated.
Some days, He showed me the entire picture—how things fit together, where He was leading, how the pieces connected, how the dark was overcome by the light.
Other days, all I could see was the dark contrast. I couldn’t trace the outline. I couldn’t see the movement. I just had to trust that the dark would work with the light, that His hand was still shaping something good, that tomorrow would bring the illumination I lacked today.
2025 was that year for me.
I remembered an old song, and as the lyrics flooded back with all the memories that came along with it, I couldn’t stop the tears:
Tears and fears and feeling proud to say, "I love you, " right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I've looked at life that way
But now old friends, they're acting strange; they shake their heads, tell me that I've changed
Well, something's lost, but something's gained in living every day
I've looked at life from both sides now, from win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall, I really don't know life at all
The gift is that I don’t have to know life at all - I have to know the One who holds all the days that string together to make a life. I’m so grateful He holds this for me.
I think that’s one of the hidden gifts of a hard year, a blessed year, a growing year, a year that was all things at once: it teaches us to trust God not only when we understand Him, but also when we don’t. It teaches us that His goodness is not dependent on our clarity, and His faithfulness is not limited by our strength or our weakness.
Looking back, I can say this with certainty:
And as I step into a new year, I’m carrying these truths with me:
And the next chapter is good - it will be good for you, too. As the psalmist said in 65:11, “You crown the year with Your goodness , And Your paths drip with abundance." He did that in 2025 - 2025 was that year for me, His goodness, His abundance, exactly what I didn't know to ask for. He’ll do it again in 2026, in 2027, in 2028, and so on until Jesus Christ returns. We are assured of that too, that “He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil. 1:6).
I don’t know what the coming year will bring, but I do know this—I will walk into it with the same God who faithfully carried me through this one. His faithfulness and steadfast love is always the treasure <3
How was your year? What are you looking forward to next year? I'd love to walk with you - check out Connect Mentoring Network and see how a Christian mentor can be a benefit - this community is created for you!
All believers find themselves here at some point: in the middle, doing the hard work of trusting the faithfulness of God. Not the beginning of the storm when everything changes, and not the ending where everything is restored, but the long stretch in between. As we close this series, you can catch up here.
"In the middle".... This is the space where:
It’s the place where Job sat—in the ashes, with more questions than answers, holding onto a God he didn’t fully understand but fully trusted. In the space where he could discover once again the faithfulness of God.
If you’re in that middle place today, hear this: you are not stuck. You are being shaped.

The middle seasons are not wasted seasons. They are the places where God does work you cannot see yet—steadily, faithfully, intentionally.
In the middle, God teaches you to:
This is the path of spiritual maturity.
This is the path Job walked.
This is the path Jesus walked in His own hours of sorrow.
This is the path God walks with you.
The middle is an uncomfortable place because it lives between what was and what will be.
Between:
But it is also the place where God’s faithfulness shines brightest.
You may not see the finished house yet—but the Builder is already at work.
Just as your illustration shows: the insurance has called, the check is in the mail, the rebuild is guaranteed. But today you’re standing in the ashes. The promise is sure, but the process is still unfolding.
And God is faithful in both places—the promise and the process.
Job discovered something profound:
God was not only faithful at the end when everything was restored—He was faithful in the middle when nothing made sense.
1. God sees and knows your heart
2. God is present even in suffering
3. God corrects with love and for our good
4. God restores and rebuilds
5. God’s faithfulness is unshakable
6. God invites us into trust and dependence
7. God provides perspective beyond circumstances
You stay close, keep listening, keep surrendering, keep trusting.
You keep showing up with your whole heart—even when it’s tough, even when you are looking at the ashes and waiting for the check to come in. Let God meet you there - not only to bring you out, but to transform you.
Even in the middle.
Join me next week for a new discussion on the blog and on the podcast - and visit connectmentoringnetwork.org for more resources!
Trust in God - this can be a bigger step than most of us want to admit. There is a holy mystery in the way God works during the “middle” seasons of our lives. We often want the ending—the restoration, the rebuilding, the clarity. But God often does His deepest, most transformative work before the restoration arrives. If you need to catch up, you can find "In the Middle" 1, 2, and 3 here.
Job’s story teaches us this: sometimes God changes us long before He changes our circumstances. The middle is where God strengthens, steadies, restores.

Job spent chapter after chapter asking God why. He wanted answers, explanations, and clarity. His friends tried to offer reasons and explanations, but those fell short for sure.
When God finally spoke, He didn’t give Job reasons - He gave revelation. God revealed His greatness, sovereignty and wisdom. He reminded Job of His intimate care over all creation. When Job answers the Lord, his response is so beautiful and shows growth and understanding that he did not have before:
Job answered the Lord and said:
“I know that You can do everything,
And that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from You.
You asked, ‘Who is this who hides counsel without knowledge?’
Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,
Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.
Listen, please, and let me speak;
You said, ‘I will question you, and you shall answer Me.’
I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear,
But now my eye sees You”. (Job 42:2-5)
“I had heard of You…but now my eye sees You.” (It's not a psalm, but still a great place for a selah - pause and think of that!)
Sometimes the “next step” in your healing is not the restoration you were hoping for in the natural - sometimes the next step is a clearer vision of who God is. Before anything in Job’s life was rebuilt, Job himself was restored. Hang in there - the restoration is coming for Job!
The enemy meant to destroy Job, but God had a greater plan: pruning, not punishment; refining, not rebuke.
God’s faithfulness throughout our in-the-middle days leads to:
This is the kind of trust that isn’t shaken by circumstances because it wasn’t built on circumstances. This is how God restores us “in the middle”—not with explanations, but with formation.
Job’s story doesn’t end with unanswered questions—it ends with restoration that reflects God’s faithfulness and the fruit of His work in the middle. Scripture tells us:
Job’s restoration shows us several truths for our own middle seasons:
By looking at Job, we see that restoration is not only about circumstances—it’s about transformation. God works on our hearts first, preparing us to receive and steward His blessings well.
Restoration rarely arrives all at once. More often, it comes in quiet markers—holy hints that God is moving you forward:
By the time Job’s circumstances were restored, Job was already different - more grounded, more trusting, more surrendered, more whole. That is what God does in the middle. He prepares you for the blessing He’s already prepared for you. He strengthens the foundation before He erects the new walls. He restores your heart before He restores your home. Let's trust in God as He works, before we see His intended end.
Let’s finish this up next week - join me on the blog and/or the podcast! Visit www.connectmentoringnetwork for more resources. I can’t wait to connect with you again soon!
There is a unique kind of heaviness that settles over the heart when you are “in the middle” of a difficult season. You know God is faithful. You know restoration will come. You know the end of the story will be good because the Author is good. That doesn’t mean that today isn’t tough. That doesn’t mean that being “in the middle” isn’t a hard place. Check out the first and second in this "in the middle" series and let's get started!
I was trying to explain this to a friend the other day, about my own “in the middle” moment. Imagine it this way: your house has just burned down. You are sitting on your knees across the street looking at the ashes and rubble. You’ve already been told the insurance will cover everything. You know a rebuild is coming. However, at this moment, you are grieving. You liked that house. You liked that stuff. Better is coming, but for now you’re living in the space between the loss and the restoration, between the breaking and the rebuilding. The insurance agent has promised: the check is in the mail. That’s a valid spot to be in, an emotional spot to be in, even when you know it’s going to be okay, between looking at ashes and cashing that check.
In that vulnerable middle place, God can begin to correct, shape, and grow us. His heart is always for our best, even on days that feel hard in our limited judgement (and our judgement is limited - let’s put a bookmark there and talk about this on another day).

Even when we believe God is good, His correction might feel sharp when we’re already hurting. Job experienced this. In the midst of unimaginable loss, he wrestled with big questions and deep frustrations. When God finally spoke, His words didn’t condemn—but they did confront.
Correction can feel threatening for a few reasons. Maybe we fear that it means we’ve done something wrong. Maybe we worry God is disappointed in us. Maybe in this moment, we’re already fragile, and anything that feels like pressure can feel overwhelming.
Hear His heart for you. God is not angry, God is not disappointed, God is not done with you. He loves those He corrects, remember? (Hebrews 12:6-11) When God speaks, let’s lean in.
One of the most sacred disciplines in the middle season is learning to listen to God without defending ourselves. Pain often makes us want to justify ourselves - but God, in His kindness, invites us to open our hands and hearts instead.
Job shows us what this looks like. Even in his grief, he asked God honest, raw questions:
God didn’t shy away from Job’s questions. In chapters 38–41, He responds. He doesn’t condemn, He reminds Job of His power, wisdom, and the larger story beyond Job’s understanding. God’s answers are gentle yet firm: trust His design, lean on His wisdom, and recognize His sovereignty even in the middle of confusion and pain.
Humility in the middle doesn’t mean silence. It means asking hard questions, listening carefully, and allowing God’s correction and guidance to shape us—even when we don’t see the full picture yet.
Sometimes God’s correction comes through Scripture, prayer, or through the Holy Spirit’s gentle conviction.
Here are a few ways to respond:
There are a couple of questions I love to ask the Lord in my own in-the-middle seasons or on my tough days:
“What aspect of Your character do You want to reveal to me in this?”
“What is it that You want to be for me today that You were unable to be to me yesterday?”
Not that there was ever a moment when God was limited - but perhaps I didn’t know what I needed. I didn’t know I needed a provider until my need was revealed. I didn’t know that I needed a healer until I had the negative diagnosis. I didn’t know I needed a shepherd until I felt lost. When those missing pieces were exposed, God’s character was revealed and I grew closer to Him. From that perspective, the in-the-middle moments are so valuable to our growth.
God answers those questions so faithfully every time. He is right there in the middle with me. He is right there in the middle with you.
Once again, we are leaving Job in the middle! Let’s continue this conversation again next week on the blog and on the podcast - I hope you’ll join me for this conversation next week as we continue talking about the value of our own in-the-middle days. It’s such a joy and honor to connect with you!
I hope I didn’t present Job’s friends as the picture of healthy godly friendships – they made some mistakes, as we all do. However, Job did keep them around. That’s a lesson in itself, isn’t it? We don’t get “done” with people, even though seasons may change. We can learn a lot of lessons from Job's friends. (you've heard the saying, "Sometimes there's a blessing, sometimes there's a lesson" - let's take the lesson from Job's friends today!)
If you didn’t read last week’s blog post, better catch up here. Come right back after you read it and let’s continue this conversation!
Job’s friends get a bad rap, but I honestly think that they meant well, and there are even lots of words they say that are true –
“God is famous for great and unexpected acts; there’s no end to His surprises” 5:9
“what a blessing when God steps in and corrects you” 5:17
“Does God mess up? Does God Almighty ever get things backward?” 8:2
“God will set everything right again, reestablish your fortunes” 8:6
“God is far higher than you can imagine, far deeper than you can comprehend” 11:7
I do think the friends mean well, but it is almost as if they are speaking without the experience of deep pain. They want to point out God’s goodness, but then immediately connect Job’s troubles to Job’s behavior. They cannot seem to understand why these things would happen when a God whom they know as good is on the throne. They’ve got to explain it away by calling Job’s test a punishment. It’s as if they want to plug God into a “if you’ll do this, He’ll do that” formula, but life isn’t that simple.
This is my opinion, but I wonder if Job’s friends tried to explain God in this way to protect themselves. Their theology did not leave space for struggle or grief. In their experience, if you were “good”, then God protected you and these things didn’t happen. Seeing Job in this situation had to punch a hole in that for them - “if this could happen to Job, it could happen to us… No, it must be that Job did something wrong and made God angry…. Job, just repent and get your life back….” That was the “safer” explanation.
We make these same mistakes in our ministry, leadership and friendships today sometimes. Job’s friends do a few things wrong here:
What was needed in the moment for Job was presence. He needed the comfort of a friend more than he needed answers or solutions for his situation, and they moved too quickly.
There’s a reason Scripture calls us to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). It’s not just about sympathy—it’s about entering someone’s sorrow long enough to reflect the compassion of Christ. Sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do is simply sit still beside someone who’s hurting. When we show up with listening ears and a soft heart, we mirror the gentleness of Jesus, who never rushed people through their pain but met them right in the middle of it.
In leadership and ministry, this takes humility. It’s not easy to resist the urge to fix, explain, or quote a verse that ties everything up neatly. But real friendship and godly care don’t demand resolution—they offer presence. When we slow down long enough to listen, we are communicating, “You’re not alone. I don’t have all the answers, but I’m staying.” That kind of love ministers more healing than any well-meaning advice ever could. Job's friends did stay - let's give them credit for that!

When leaders move too quickly, we risk replacing empathy with advice, and presence with analysis. True ministry begins with careful listening, humility, and the patience to let God’s truth unfold rather than rushing to conclusions. Job’s friends missed an opportunity to minister peace to Job in his troubles. How painful it must have been for Job to listen to this as he grieved.
Sometimes friends are trying to help, and don’t know how to do it – forgive them. Sometimes friends don’t know how to help, so they ignore the situation (and possibly you) altogether – forgive them. Don’t shy away from relationship, using past hurts as an excuse. Trust that the relationship will give you the opportunity to grow, and the Lord will fill in the blanks. Even when there must be a loss of relationship (sometimes it must be), trust Jesus to give you the continuity of community that you desire.
For now, Job is still in the middle. I want to hang out until we see his restoration, don’t you? Let’s come together on Thursday as we continue this conversation on the podcast, and come back to the blog next week as we continue this series on the blog!
I wrote this blog post about 7 years ago, but today I wanted to re-visit and add to it. I think we'll have a little series on the "in the middle" times that we all face in life. I'm in an "in the middle" myself - hard things happen, and also I know that God has a great plan. I'm in the middle of it! Maybe you can relate!
I know it's strange to say, but Job really is one of my favorites. 🙂 I was thinking this morning about how LONG the dialogue between Job and his friends continued. Maybe I should rephrase: Job allowed his friends' diatribe against him to go on for a really long time (chapters and chapters and chapters!). Not sure I would have sat there for that (I would have struggled, I'm sorry to admit!). However, Job didn't end the relationship with his friends. Since he allowed them a front row seat to his troubles, they also had a front row seat to his restoration. What a gift it must have been, to be able to see that season come full circle. If you are a ministry leader, invited trusted friends in may feel risky - but it positions you for greater restoration and depth.
Job could have left his friends at their first criticism and no one would have blamed him. But he stayed. Because we often don't know how to handle confrontation, we often run at the first cross word. However, this is oftentimes a wrong response. Here's my balancing comment: for the next little bit, please understand that I am talking about close friendships with like-minded people.

A true friend is someone who should have the earned privilege of speaking truth into your life - and you should have the earned privilege of speaking truth into theirs. Relationship gives you the opportunity to let "iron sharpen iron" (Proverbs 27:17), a mutual benefit to godly relationship. King David insists that correction from a friend is a kindness: “Let the righteous strike me; it shall be a kindness. Let him rebuke me; it shall be as excellent oil; let my head not refuse it” (Psalm 141:5). To be honest, correction is not optional—it’s a gift when given and received well.
Please make this important distinction: a difference of opinion doesn’t mean disloyalty; it means growth when handled with grace. There are times when correction is necessary, even helpful. David even considered correction an act of loyalty. There are times when friends disagree - and that's okay. When I was the pastor's wife in our church, I watch it happen time and again: friends disagree, and rather than hanging in there together, they allow a difference of opinion to drive a wedge. Couldn't you have a difference of opinion, discuss, continue to respect each other, and continue to move forward? Most of the time we can; but most of the time we don't.
Grace is required to give godly correction - even more grace is required to receive godly correction. By allowing a wedge form over a correction, you are also cutting yourself off from the wisdom and opportunities for growth that the Lord means for your godly friendship. The Bible says that "the wounds of a friend are faithful" (Proverbs 27:6), meaning that truth from a friend is to be desired, even if it hurts at first.
You cannot be EFFECTIVE in relationships without being AFFECTED. Feel all the feels - but don't let a godly relationship (and the growth that can come from it) end unnecessarily. Don't shy away from relationships, using confrontation as an excuse. You cannot lead or influence in ministry without being changed yourself. Let the wounds of a friend be faithful in you.
A new thought: Job's friends were harder on him than they had to be. There's a reason for it, there's a grace for it, and you and I are going to visit about them next week. While we wait for part two, maybe a little thought: sometimes you are the one who is "in-between", maybe it's your friend who is "in-between". Sometimes what is needed is someone who will simply sit in the ashes with you and say, "Man, it's tough, huh? I love you and I'm praying. What kind of day is today? Do you need a faith-filled-hype-speech (because I have one!) or do you need a gentle and quiet arm wrapped around your shoulder (because I can do that too!)?" Be sensitive to the leading of the Holy Spirit and to the heart of your friend. Hopefully they will be sensitive to you in return, when you are the one who is "in-between".
Learning that you can go through it and grow through it together is a treasure. I'm praying that you have and maintain these kind of blessing friendships in your life <3
Job's friends are a whole 'nother story - let's visit about them next week and get a little more balance to this conversation! Join me on the podcast on Thursday, and join me again on the blog next Tuesday - let's review together and add a little new insight for a new day as well! Love y'all!
Jennifer 🙂
Have you ever heard someone say things like:
These often come after a blunt or critical comment. It’s a signal to the listener: “I know this might sound harsh, but I’m not taking responsibility for how it lands”.
How about any of these:
These sound authentic but can hide a pride in bluntness — as if harsh honesty is more righteous than gracious speech.
How about these:
Maybe these can sound biblical or courageous, but often this form of "truth" becomes a weapon instead of a witness when love and humility are missing.
We like to say we’re “just speaking the truth in love”. It sounds spiritual, doesn’t it? But far too often, what we call truth is really just our opinion, our frustration, or even our insecurity dressed up in spiritual language.
When you look closely, each of these phrases reveals something about the heart behind the words. Sometimes what we call “honesty” isn’t really about helping others — it’s about protecting or possibly promoting ourselves.
Biblical truth-telling always begins with humility and love. When Jesus spoke truth, it wasn’t to win an argument or prove a point — it was to heal, restore, and redeem. Real truth-telling isn’t about getting something off our chest; it’s about getting Christ’s heart into the conversation.
Here’s the thing — if our words don’t lift someone up, point them back to Jesus, or remind them of who they are in Christ, we’re not actually speaking truth. Truth isn’t harsh or condemning.
When Paul talked about “speaking the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15), he wasn’t giving us permission to correct others harshly. He was reminding us to call one another up — to remind each other of the reality of who we are as sons and daughters of God.
Here’s the truth:
Truth spoken in love calls others up into their identity. It reminds them of who they are — chosen, redeemed, and dearly loved. If what we’re saying to someone else doesn’t lift them toward Christ or reflect their identity in Christ, then we are not speaking the truth in love.

When we “speak the truth in love,” it should sound like the heart of Jesus. He never used truth to shame or silence people. He used truth to set them free, to restore dignity, and to remind them of their worth in the Father’s eyes.
When we carry this same heart into our ministry, our words begin to heal instead of harm. Our presence becomes safe instead of stressful. Our leadership reflects Christ instead of competing for attention.
Why is this important? What does this have to do with not competing?
When we’re rooted in our identity in Christ, competition loses its grip.
When competition loses its grip, we are empowered to celebrate/support the giftings of those around us without fear. When competition loses its grip, we are empowered to speak the actual truth to others without fear of lack for ourselves.
When we serve from insecurity, everything starts to feel like a competition. We notice who’s being recognized and who’s not. We feel threatened by others’ gifts or intimidated by their confidence, but our calling is not a contest.
We have an unfortunate biblical example of this in Haman, from the book of Esther. Let’s not skip the history lesson today, want to come along with me? Here we go:
In Esther 5, Haman is invited to dinner with Queen Esther and King Ahasuerus, so:
“Haman went out that day joyful and with a glad heart” 5:9a
However, his good mood wasn’t to last - as soon as he begins his walk home, he sees Mordecai:
“but when Haman saw Mordecai in the king’s gate, and that he did not stand or tremble before him, he was filled with indignation against Mordecai.” 5:9
Why? Why is Haman “filled with indignation” against Mordecai? Haman has been invited to the palace for an intimate dinner with the king and queen, what does Mordecai have to do with this? Haman is being honored, and another man is adjacent. Why can’t Haman let it go? Why did Haman even take notice and waste mental energy on a Jew sitting at the king’s gate? The definition of indignation is “anger or annoyance provoked by what is perceived as unfair treatment”, which makes this make even less sense.
“Nevertheless Haman restrained himself and went home and he sent and called for his friends and his wife Zeresh. Then Haman told them of his great riches, the multitude of his children, everything in which the king had promoted him, and how he had advanced him above the officials and servants of the king. Moreover Haman said, “Besides, Queen Esther invited no one but me to come in with the king to the banquet that she prepared; and tomorrow I am again invited by her, along with the king. “ 5:10-12
We aren’t surprised that Haman makes this story all about himself, to be honest, I’m a little relieved that he didn’t even mention Mordecai. He had a great opportunity to take the high road and leave his “indignation” behind here. Just drop it, Haman, this has nothing to do with you.
Not so fast - here’s where Haman goes south:
“Let all this avails me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king’s gate.” 5:13
So, all of this is worthless because Mordecai exists? A little dramatic, don’t you think? Hopefully his wife will help him out:
“Then his wife Zeresh and all his friends said to him, ‘Let a gallows be made, fifty cubits high, and in the morning suggest to the king that Mordecai be hanged on it; then go merrily with the king to the banquet’. ” And the thing pleased Haman; so he had the gallows made.” 5:14
Or maybe she won’t…..
They say bad company ruins good morals, but Hamam was already at the bottom of the barrel here. His wife and friends push him down further. Take Mordecai down, they say. You know how I interpret this advice? I think this is Haman’s wife saying to him, “Haman, you’ve gone as high as you can go. You can’t grow, you can’t go any higher, you have reached your capacity. The only way to make yourself look good is to make others look bad. If anyone comes close to you, kick them down - then at least you’ll still look like you are on top.”
How’s that for “just saying” or “I’m just being real” or “don’t shoot the messenger” or “I’m just speaking the truth in love?”
To be honest, it’s sad, and led Haman to a dark place. When you come to a point where you cannot celebrate others, where you feel indignation that someone else is “in your space”, you’ve come to a dangerous spot. Run, don’t walk, back to the Cross. These things are heavy: competition, indignation, jealousy, comparison. You aren’t meant to carry them. Don’t waste your energy on these. You are better than that.
The truth is, we were never meant to compete with one another. God didn’t call us to run against each other; He called us to run with endurance in the race He’s specifically marked out for us (Hebrews 12:1).
Let’s speak the real truth — the kind that builds the Body of Christ. Let’s be women who remind each other:
“You are chosen.”
“You are equipped.”
“You are loved.”
“You are enough in Him.”
That’s what “truth in love” sounds like.
When we serve from that truth, competition loses its power, comparison fades, and insecurity melts away. We become free — free to serve, free to love, and free to see others succeed.
In the Kingdom of God, her win is your win. Her growth strengthens your ministry. Her obedience advances the same mission you’re living for.
Let’s close this series right where we began — with a heart fully surrendered to Jesus, secure in who He says we are, and committed to building others up instead of tearing ourselves down through comparison. If someone else is growing/succeeding/winning, that doesn’t take anything away from your growing/succeeding/winning!
You can catch up here if you want to take a look at the first, second or third in the series!
Ministry without competition begins and ends in Christ. When we know who we are, we can cheer others on - and truly speak the truth in love the way Paul intended, truly speak the truth in love in a way that honors Christ. What a treasure!
Join me on the Connect Podcast on Youtube and let’s continue this conversation on Thursday!
Freedom from condemnation - this is an attainable goal, y'all! Let's do it! We were never meant to live under condemnation or pressure to perform. God didn’t design ministry to be a checklist: He designed it to flow from a relationship with Jesus Christ. When we really understand that, everything changes — our peace, our purpose, and the way we serve others. Here's the first and second in the "ministry without competition series" if you want to catch up! (But you don't have to - this will stand alone!)
We have a choice - we can live out of our love relationship with Jesus, or we can live out of law. When I live out of relationship, I’m responding to what’s already been freely given. When I live out of law, I feel like I’m striving, trying to earn something from God. (I really really really want to go to the Old Testament right now for a history lesson, but I’ll save it for another day!)

Let’s look at the Word:
Romans 8:1-2 tells us,
“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death.”
That word free is powerful. It’s not partial freedom or even freedom with conditions. It’s complete release from sin, striving, and the constant pressure to perform for God’s approval.
There’s a benefit to the law, we’re not throwing it out altogether. The law shows us what we can’t do on our own. Galatians 3:24 says,
“The law was our tutor to bring us to Christ, that we might be justified by faith.”
The law is a starting place, not a destination. It points us to Jesus, who fulfilled the law completely and then invited us into relationship. Once we step into that relationship, the “have to’s” turn into “want to’s.” We’re no longer trying to measure up - we’re resting in the One who already did.
When I live out of law, my walk with God becomes rigid and mechanical. It’s about what I have to do rather than what I get to do. It’s about checking the boxes — read 10 chapters in my Bible: check. Pray for thirty minutes: check. Attend church, check. Serve at the coffee bar at church, check. Then moving on with my day and hoping I’ve done enough to earn a little approval from God.
But when I live out of relationship, it’s different. Maybe I’ll read 10 chapters in my Bible - maybe I’ll read 1 verse. My heart leans in because I love Him. I want to spend time in His Word. I want to talk to Him in prayer. Maybe I’ll pray for 10 minutes, maybe I’ll pray all day as I’m breathing. I want to serve His people because I know how deeply He loves them, maybe that looks like serving that cup of coffee, but maybe that looks like a hug or prayer for a friend who is discouraged.
The difference is motivation. The actions might look the same on the outside, but the result is infinitely different! (Are you wondering what this has to do with competition? Hang with me, friend!)
When you’re living out of the law, there’s always a voice of condemnation whispering, You didn’t do enough. You should be better. You should be more like her.
But Romans 8:1 reminds us: there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. None.
Without condemnation, there’s no competition.
Without condemnation, there’s no comparison.
Without condemnation, there’s freedom.
Without condemnation, there’s peace.
When we truly accept that God loves us — right now, as we are — we stop striving to earn His love and start living from it. That’s where freedom begins and competition stops.
Competition is rooted in insecurity. When I don’t know who I am in Christ, I’ll always feel the need to prove myself: to God, to others, or even to myself. When I understand that I am fully loved, completely accepted, and totally free in Jesus, I no longer need to compete or compare.
I can celebrate someone else’s success because it doesn’t diminish mine. I can honor another person’s calling without questioning my own. I can rest in my assignment and trust that God is faithful in theirs, too.
Living in freedom means recognizing that God’s kingdom is not a competition — it’s a collaboration. We’re all on the same team, working toward the same goal: glorifying Jesus Christ.
Serving from law says, I have to do this because it’s my duty.
Serving from relationship says, I get to do this because I love Jesus.
When we serve from freedom, our hearts stay full. Ministry isn’t draining; it’s fulfilling. It’s not about earning favor but about expressing gratitude.
Think about it this way: when a child does chores to earn love, the relationship becomes transactional. When that same child knows they’re already deeply loved, their acts of service come from joy. That’s exactly how our Heavenly Father wants us to live — not trying to earn His love, but responding to it.
That’s the beauty of living in Christ. We serve, give, and lead from a place of fullness, not emptiness.
When I’m trapped in law, I’m focused on myself — my performance, my image, my “spiritual report card.” When I live in freedom, I’m focused on others. My eyes are open to the people around me, and I can genuinely celebrate what God is doing in their lives.
Competition fades when love takes center stage in my life to a point where I can walk it out toward myself first and then others. I’m not trying to love Jesus - I’m trying to accept His love for me. See that little shift there?
When we walk in freedom, we no longer feel the need to be the best, the first, or the most visible. Instead, we find joy in helping others rise. We can cheer on a sister in ministry without comparing platforms. We can pray for her success without feeling threatened. Because love doesn’t compete, it completes.
When the weight of performance is lifted, peace settles in. That peace becomes the foundation for true fruitfulness.
Jesus said,
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.” John 15:5
Notice that fruit doesn’t come from striving — it comes from abiding. The more we rest in Him, the more fruit our lives produce naturally.
Freedom allows us to flourish because we’re not exhausted from trying to prove ourselves. We’re simply connected to the Source, drawing strength, wisdom, and joy from Him.
It’s not about perfection — it’s about connection.
Every morning becomes an opportunity to meet with Jesus, not a task on the to-do list.
Church becomes a celebration of His goodness, not an obligation to fulfill.
Ministry becomes an overflow of His love, not a competition to win.
When we live in that kind of freedom, we reflect Jesus more clearly. The world doesn’t need more people who are busy proving their worth — it needs people who are free in Christ and overflowing with His love.
Every day, we have a choice:
Will we live in law or in love? Sriving, performing, striving, earning, checking boxes — or resting, abiding, receiving, responding to grace?
One produces exhaustion.
The other produces joy.
One focuses on what we do for God.
The other focuses on what God does in us.
The same actions can come from two completely different places — and only one leads to freedom from competition, freedom from condemnation, freedom.
When we live in that freedom, comparison fades, competition ends, and ministry becomes what it was always meant to be — a reflection of the love of Jesus.
Let’s stop trying to earn what’s already ours. Let’s live from freedom, from relationship, from love.
Because when you live from freedom, you’re finally free to be you. You are finally free to let others be who they are in Christ as well. We’re a team - and finding out that the Body of Christ is for you and you are for them? That’s a treasure!
Let’s continue the conversation on Thursday - join me at my Youtube channel and like/subscribe so we can stay connected!
Right after Moses and Joshua team together to get the children of Israel out of slavery and into their Promised Land (no small feat!), we have a sad commentary. The very next generation is described in the Book of Judges:
“And there arose another generation after them who did not know the Lord nor the work which He had done for Israel.” Judges 2:10
That one sentence describes the tragic result of a generational breakdown. They left a gap.
A people who had seen God’s miracles firsthand. FIRSTHAND. Can you imagine some of the miracles they experienced? They had walked through the Jordan River on dry ground. They were there and watched Jericho’s walls crumble. They experienced victory after victory under Joshua’s leadership. How had they failed to pass on their faith to their children? The next generation grew up disconnected from the stories, the power, and the presence of God.
(How were these stories not told? Y’all, we brag if we find a great sale. We post pictures of the dinner we made last night. Just saying…..)
The next generation didn’t know Him. Because they didn’t know Him, they didn’t follow Him. It took ONE GENERATION for this loss to occur.
This wasn’t a failure of programs or passion; it was a failure of discipleship. The older generation neglected their divine mandate to diligently teach, model, and live out their faith before the next.

Joshua’s generation experienced God in powerful, tangible ways. They saw the impossible made possible, but somehow, they failed to ensure that their children personally knew the God who had delivered them.
The next generation didn’t reject God—they simply didn’t know Him. That’s a critical difference. My grandmother used to say, “there’s enough blame to go around, so let’s start with you.” We can pinpoint the failure here. We see when and where the gap was left.
To “not know the Lord” wasn’t a lack of information; it was a lack of relationship. It means they had no personal encounter, no firsthand faith, no living memory of His faithfulness. Maybe these parents talked about God, but they didn’t lead their families to walk with Him. Surely they remembered His works, but they didn’t reproduce His ways.
When one generation stops experiencing God, the next stops believing He’s real. (Say that louder for the people in the back. No - wait a minute, let’s say that louder for the people in the FRONT, the MIDDLE and the back). Catch the first in this series of ministry without competition here
Let's talk about what it means to "not know":
The new generation hadn’t personally seen God’s power. Their parents had walked across the Jordan, but they hadn’t. Their parents had watched walls fall and enemies flee, but they hadn’t. Faith stories are meant to be shared, but they’re also meant to be continued. When faith becomes only historical—something that happened “back then”—it loses its power to transform “right now.” God desires for each generation to have their own testimony, not just an inherited history.
Perhaps this previous generation became lazy. Perhaps they became complacent. Perhaps they thought they had “earned” a rest or reprieve from the hardships they had endured along with the miracles they experienced. After all, they had worked hard. They had been through a great deal. This was their time to sit back and finally relax (you see what I am doing there? Self care is great - but it can become selfish really easily if we don’t watch it. That’s another subject for another day). Somewhere along the line, the testimony was lost, and the cost would be great. An entire generation. A huge gap in a huge legacy of faith.
Because they lacked experience, they also lacked understanding. They didn’t know God’s character, His authority, or His faithfulness. Without that foundation, they were easily swayed by the gods of the surrounding nations.
We see the same danger today—when biblical literacy fades, spiritual compromise follows. If we don’t teach our children the truth, culture will gladly fill the gap with imitation wisdom.
Judges describes the painful cycle that repeats over and over:
At the root of it all was one missing link: discipleship.
When one generation fails to pass on the faith, the next is left spiritually unanchored—and the enemy never wastes a gap.
When Israel forgot God, they forgot who they were. They lost sight of their purpose as God’s chosen people and began to blend into the nations around them.
That’s what happens when faith isn’t transferred intentionally. We don’t just lose knowledge—we lose identity.
God never designed faith to fade from one generation to the next. His plan is continuity—truth flowing like a river from parent to child, mentor to mentee, leader to follower.
“And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up.” Deuteronomy 6:6–7
Faith (and the accompanying behavior, speech and example that comes along with being a person of faith) isn’t meant to be private (kept to yourself) or passive (without action). Faith is meant to be lived out loud and passed on deliberately. The Lord’s instruction isn’t to occasionally mention Him, but to weave His truth into the rhythms of daily life - in our lives, in our children’s lives. As much as we are able, in the live of those we influence. When we rise up and when we lie down, when we sit in our homes and when we walk along the way—He should be part of every moment.
Psalm 145:4 captures this beautifully:
“One generation shall praise Your works to another, and shall declare Your mighty acts.”
Our worship should echo through generations. What God has done for us must be shared with those coming after us, so they too can know His goodness and power.
You can’t pass on what you don’t possess. If we want to raise a generation that loves the Lord, we must love Him deeply ourselves. If we want them to treasure the Word, we must be people of the Word.
“Study to show yourself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.” 2 Timothy 2:15
An effective discipleship tool is example. The next generation learns what we live as much as or more than what we say. They need to see faith in action—real, humble, steadfast faith that stands through storms, rejoices in trials, and trusts God’s promises even when life doesn’t make sense. Use your words and use action. Use everything, honestly. Every gift that God has given to you, every tool in your toolbelt - be passionate about standing for God before the gap is even created.
This is where “ministry without competition” becomes essential. Preparing the next generation isn’t about building our name—it’s about building His Kingdom. When we live out the gospel authentically, we hand the baton of faith to those behind us. We don't leave a gap.
Joshua’s generation made the mistake of keeping the focus on what they had done: their victories, their faith stories, their leadership. They left no room for new leaders to grow, no opportunity for the next generation to encounter God for themselves.
But true ministry is never territorial. It doesn’t guard influence—it gives it away.
When we disciple others, when we pour into those coming behind us, when we intentionally prepare young believers to lead, we’re saying: “This isn’t about me. This is about the Body of Christ being strong long after I’m gone.”
That’s ministry without competition.
It’s recognizing that the Church is not a platform—it’s a people. And every believer, young or old, is part of that divine design. When we see our role as stewards rather than owners, we stop comparing and start multiplying. We stop protecting our “place” and start preparing others for theirs.
Refusing to compete means refusing to cling. It means being willing to teach, train, and release others—even if they someday lead in ways that look different from us. It’s not about who gets credit. It’s about who continues Christ’s work.
When we invest in others, we extend Kingdom impact beyond our own lifetime. We ensure there will not arise “another generation who does not know the Lord.”
Every child taught to pray, every young woman mentored, every believer equipped—that’s another link in the unbroken chain of faithfulness stretching from one generation to the next.
This story in Judges doesn’t have to be repeated in our time. We can choose differently. We can be the generation that does pass on the faith. We can be the ones who refuse to compete and instead collaborate—who live with open hands, open hearts, and open Bibles. Let’s pour into others not for our own recognition, but for God’s glory. Let’s strengthen the Body of Christ by making sure every generation knows His truth, feels His presence, and walks in His power.
Refuse to compete. Refuse to keep the truth that God reveals to you to yourself - He revealed it to you so you can shout it to others! Don’t leave a gap. Let your faithfulness close the gap.
The next generation is watching—and waiting—for you to show them what faithful looks like. It’s not only a treasure for you - faith in God is a treasure for them, too.
Let’s continue this conversation on Thursday’s podcast - join me at https://www.youtube.com/@JenniferWSpivey