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One Real Story From Life

Growing up, I played a lot of baseball at a high level. I had all kinds of coaches, but my favorites were always the ones who were direct. If you did something wrong, they told you. Then they followed it up with encouragement and a clear next step. That combination of correction and confidence shaped the way I learned to love the game.

Now my kids are playing the same sport I grew up playing and eventually loving, and if I’m honest, that is where things have gotten complicated. I find myself coaching from the sidelines—sometimes helpfully, sometimes not. Because they do not always play with the same passion or intensity I once had, I can feel myself trying to pull more out of them than they may be ready for. One of my daughters especially gets to me. She has real potential, and I have caught myself wanting to force it to the surface instead of patiently helping it grow.

This past weekend, I knew I needed a different approach. Before one of her games started, I pulled out my phone—not to scroll, but to spend a few quiet minutes in the Word and prayer. I asked God for wisdom, not just for what to say, but for when to say it and when to stay quiet. James 1:5 reminds us that when we lack wisdom, we do not have to pretend otherwise; we can ask God, and He gives generously.

In the first game of the day, she stepped up to the plate and grounded out to the right side. I could see she was late on her swing. Old me would have launched into a full hitting lesson before she even reached the dugout. But because I had prayed first, I kept it simple. I told her that with a slight adjustment in timing, her at-bats could change drastically. That was it. No lecture. No frustration. Just one clear adjustment and one quiet word of belief.

The next day, she made the adjustment. She had several solid at-bats and hit the ball hard most of the day. I was thrilled—not just because of the result, but because she got to see the fruit of her own work. I got to celebrate her growth instead of over-coaching every detail.

Later in the game, a high fly ball was hit right to her. It was the kind of ball she should have caught, and it dropped right in front of her. On the inside, I was furious. I knew what that out could have meant for the inning, maybe even the game. Every instinct in me wanted to correct her immediately. I wanted to yell across the field or give her a sharp word when she came off. I wanted to fix the mistake before it had time to settle.

Instead, I thought back to that quiet prayer before the game. I had already asked God for wisdom before I acted. In that moment, wisdom did not look like a speech. It looked like silence.

After the game, we packed up and started walking to the car. Without any prompting from me, she said, “Dad, I should have totally caught that ball. That would have ended the game.” She had already seen it. She had already felt it. She did not need my frustration to make the lesson clearer. She needed room to own it for herself.

As we talked, I told her something I needed her to hear clearly: it did not matter to me if she made errors or struck out every time. What would bless me most was seeing her enjoy herself, play with passion, and hustle every play. I wanted her to know that my joy as her dad was not tied to a perfect stat line. It was tied to the kind of heart she brought to the field.

On the final day of the weekend, I saw it. I saw joy. I saw effort. I saw energy. I saw her playing free. And my heart was filled with joy—not because everything was perfect, but because something deeper was taking root in her.

One Key Principle From God’s Word

James 1:5 says:

“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”

That promise meets us right where most of life actually happens—in regular days, real conversations, and split-second reactions. When we do not know how to respond, we are not stuck with our first impulse; we can stop and ask God how to answer instead.

God’s wisdom does more than give us the “right answer.” It shapes how we show up in the moment—tone, timing, and even how many words we use. Sometimes that means offering a clear correction. Sometimes it means a simple word of encouragement. Sometimes it means saying nothing at all. For parents, coaches, and leaders, that kind of wisdom matters because our words are not just shaping behavior; they are shaping hearts.

Honest Reflections From a Dad’s Seat

Walking through that weekend with my daughter has stayed with me, both as a dad and as someone who wants to lead well at home and at work. A few reflections:

• Not every mistake needs an immediate speech. Sometimes the lesson is already landing, and adding more words only adds more weight.
• Wisdom is not just knowing what is true; it is knowing what is needed right now. A mechanical adjustment helped at the plate. Silence helped after the fly ball.
• What we celebrate shapes what grows. When I made it clear that joy, passion, and hustle mattered more to me than error-free performance, I could see something change in her.
• Leadership at home is not about controlling every outcome. It is about helping our kids grow in courage, ownership, and freedom.

One Simple Step For This Week

To build hearts, homes, and leaders right where you are, try this:

Ask God for wisdom in one specific relationship before you speak.

As you move through this week, pay attention:

• Is there a pattern where you tend to jump in too quickly with correction?
• Is there a recent moment you wish you had handled with fewer words?
• Is there a place where a shorter, calmer response—or even silence—might help someone grow more than another speech?

You do not have to get every moment right. But you can let God’s wisdom shape your next one.

One Real Story From Life

One of our daughters was so excited about trying out for the middle school softball team. In sixth grade, she talked about it for weeks—about positions, uniforms, and playing under the lights. But as tryout day got closer, the “what ifs” started getting louder. What if I mess up? What if I’m not good enough?

On the day of tryouts, fear won. She stayed home. That afternoon, my wife and I watched the disappointment settle in. She didn’t need a lecture; she already knew what she’d missed. Instead of treating that decision like it would define her forever, we just encouraged her and kept the door open for “next time.”

In year two, she decided next time had come. She pushed through the nerves, showed up, and tried out. When the list came out, her name wasn’t on it. This time the disappointment was loud—tears, questions, and that quiet ache of “maybe I’m just not good enough.” But somewhere underneath the hurt, she made a quiet decision: “I’m going to work hard and try again next year.”

In her final year of middle school, she tried out one more time. She’d practiced, prepared, and handled the drills well. We really thought this might be the year. But when the list went up, her name still wasn’t on it. Only this time, something had changed in her. She wasn’t crushed. She took a deep breath, lifted her head, and moved on to the next activity with a little hop in her step, because she knew she’d given it everything she had.

Was I disappointed that she didn’t make the team? Honestly, yes. But more than making the roster, I was proud of the way she’d grown. Those tryouts didn’t just test her softball skills; they shaped how she handled fear, failure, and disappointment. Watching her walk away without being defined by the outcome reminded me that in God’s hands, even the days that don’t go how we hoped can grow something strong and steady inside us.

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One Key Principle From God’s Word

Romans 5 talks about how pressure and hardship grow perseverance, which in turn develops character and a steady kind of hope. The days we would never choose can become the very places where we grow our believing, develop a greater trust in God and just keep going. He isn’t measuring us by scoreboards or lists.  Our consistent, faithful effort grows real, lasting fruit in our lives. My daughter’s journey—from not showing up, to trying and failing, to trying again with courage—looked a lot like that process in real time.

Identity comes before outcomes. In our own lives, and in the lives of our kids and teammates, God’s love and calling do not rise and fall with whether we make the list.

As parents and leaders, we get to echo that truth. When we walk with people through disappointment, we can quietly remind them: This result matters, but it doesn’t define you. God is still at work, and this is part of the growing process.

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Honest Reflections From a Dad’s Seat

Walking through those three years of tryouts with my daughter has stayed with me, both as a dad and as someone who wants to lead well at home and at work. A few reflections:

• How we respond to disappointment teaches more than how we respond to success. I would have celebrated with her if she’d made the team, but the deeper lessons came on the days when she didn’t. That’s true in families and on teams—people are watching what we do when things don’t go our way.
• Courage isn’t the absence of fear; it’s showing up anyway. In sixth grade, fear kept her from even going. By eighth grade, fear was still there, but it no longer got the final vote. Growth rarely means the nerves disappear; it means they stop driving the decision.
• Good leadership separates outcome from value. My role wasn’t to guarantee a spot on the team; it was to sit with her in the “no,” acknowledge that it hurt, and still affirm her effort, growth, and worth. In workplaces and homes, people need that same combination of honesty and steady encouragement when something they hoped for doesn’t work out.

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One Simple Step for This Week

To build hearts, homes, and leaders right where you are, try this:

Walk with someone through one disappointment in a way that grows courage instead of shrinking it.

1. Pick one real situation.
   Think of a specific place where you or someone close to you recently faced a “no”: a team, a role, an opportunity, or a conversation that didn’t go the way you hoped.
2. Talk honestly about what hurt.
   Name what was hard or disappointing in clear, simple language. Give space for questions and emotion instead of rushing to, “It’s fine.”
3. Name what grew.
   Ask, “What did you do differently this time? Where did you show courage? What did you learn?” Put into words the progress you see, even if the outcome was the same.
4. Agree on one next step.
   Choose a concrete action that reflects faithfulness more than guarantees: practicing a skill, asking for feedback, signing up again, or exploring a different opportunity instead of quitting altogether.

You may not be able to control the list, the decision, or the scoreboard. But you can help shape the kind of person who walks away—whether it’s a “yes” or a “no”—with a steady heart that keeps trusting God and keeps showing up.

Earlier this week, I was sketching out topics and notes for the next several weeks of Lunchbox Leadership. Before I locked anything in, I decided to ask one of my favorite “content advisors” for help—my daughter.

I said, “If you could pick the topic for this week, what would you want me to focus on?”

Without any hesitation, she said, “Can you focus on starting conversations? I always feel awkward starting conversations and feeling confident that I’ll know what to say.”

I loved that answer. It was honest, practical, and exactly where a lot of kids—and plenty of adults—live. So we built the week’s notes around it. As comments and messages started coming in on social media, I shared some of them with her. It was fun watching her realize that what she wrestles with is something many others wrestle with too, and that her question was serving people beyond our house.

A night or two later, I came home and told her I wanted to talk for a minute. I said something like, “You should be proud of yourself for everything you’ve stepped into this year—the activities you’ve tried, the ways you’ve shown up, the things you’ve pushed through.”

Her response left me speechless for a moment.

With a boldness I hadn’t heard from her before, she said, “I am proud of myself.”

I paused, just taking that in.

Then she went on to explain what she meant—how she’d noticed her own growth, where she’d chosen courage, and how this year felt different than previous ones. That one small shift in how I spoke to her led to one of the most heartfelt conversations we’ve had in a long time. Instead of me just pouring encouragement into her, she was learning to recognize and say it for herself.

In that moment, I realized: I had done something different on purpose—and it changed the conversation.

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One Key Principle From God’s Word

All week, our lunchbox notes have been circling one big idea: the way we use our words shapes the people around us—and the person we’re becoming. We’ve talked about starting conversations, speaking up with courage, listening well, and using our voices to encourage others.

Verses like 1 Timothy 4:12 and Proverbs 16:24 remind us that our words can set an example and bring strength:

• “Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation…”
• “Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.”

That applies to how we talk to others, but it also touches how we talk to ourselves. At times, we can be our own worst critics—downplaying growth, rehearsing mistakes, and talking ourselves out of courage. The lunchbox theme this week invites us to do something different: to notice where God is helping us grow and to agree with that truth instead of only repeating our doubts.

When my daughter said, “I am proud of myself,” she was recognizing real growth and saying it out loud. That kind of honest, God‑aware self‑talk strengthens our confidence to step into conversations, relationships, and opportunities with a clearer sense of how God is already at work in us.

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Honest Reflections From a Dad’s Heart

That short exchange with my daughter taught me a few things.

First, asking instead of assuming matters. When I invited her to help pick this week’s topic, I discovered a real area where she wanted to grow. It reminded me that leadership at home starts with listening, not just deciding.

Second, how we phrase encouragement can change the response. I’ve said “I’m proud of you” many times, but “You should be proud of yourself” opened a different door. It invited her to stand in the growth God has been working in her, not just hear about it from me.

Finally, helping our kids find their voice begins in everyday conversations. Practicing honest, encouraging words at home—around the table, in the car, at bedtime—gives them a safe place to learn how to speak up, both with others and within their own hearts.

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One Simple Step for This Week

To build hearts, homes, and leaders where you are, try this:

Don’t just say, “I’m proud of you”—help someone see why they can be grateful for how God is growing them.

1. Think of one child, friend, or teammate who has taken real steps forward this year—at school, at work, in their character, or in their courage.
2. Tell them specifically what you see: “You should be proud of yourself for the way you’ve…” and name the effort, growth, or faithfulness you’ve noticed.
3. After you share, ask a simple follow‑up: “What are you most thankful for in how you’ve grown lately?”
4. Listen, and let the conversation run. If it fits, gently connect their growth back to God’s help and care.

We can’t control every situation our kids or teammates walk into—awkward conversations, new environments, challenging opportunities. But we can shape the conversations that happen around our tables and in our living rooms. When we listen, speak life, and invite people to see the growth God is working in them, we help them find a steady, God‑centered voice they can carry into every room they enter.

For the past sixteen years, most of my roles at work have been in leadership. I was used to leading teams—coaching people, setting direction, carrying responsibility for results.

When our family moved to a new state, I stepped into a different kind of role: coordinator. It was still leadership, but it felt different. Instead of leading people directly, I was mostly leading processes—tracking details, keeping things moving, making sure nothing fell through the cracks.

The work was good and important, but something in me missed pouring into people. I started asking, “How can I still invest in others while staying in my lane?”

One opportunity showed up in the form of a young guy on our team.

One Real Story From Work

There’s a particular task in our department that not everyone loves. It’s detailed and repetitive, and there are many different ways to approach it. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you can easily go down the wrong path—prolonging the repair and pulling out expensive equipment that’s actually working just fine.

But this young team member kept volunteering for it. Any time that task came up, he was the first to raise his hand.

I noticed.

Over time it became clear he wasn’t just being nice; he genuinely had an interest in that part of the job. So I pulled him aside and said something like, “You seem to really care about how this is done. What would you think about working together to build a process for our department—and maybe use it to train new employees?”

His eyes lit up, but he also looked a little nervous. We agreed to meet for fifteen minutes each day. The plan was simple: he would explain his process; I would help capture it on paper.

At our very first meeting, he pulled out a small notebook. Inside were pages of handwritten notes—every call he’d taken for this task, every step he’d tried, every adjustment he’d made until it finally worked smoothly. He had been quietly building a process on his own long before I said anything.

I was impressed.

As we met, he kept saying, “I’ve never done anything like this before.” Each time, I reminded him, “You’re not doing it alone. I’m here to help you every step of the way.”

We recently finished the first draft of the process. It’s solid. But the best part wasn’t the document—it was the look on his face. You could see the sense of accomplishment, the pride in having generated something that will help the whole team and new hires who come after him. I can’t wait to see him present it for the first time.

One Key Principle From God’s Word

This week’s reflections have focused on leaders who notice, make room, and use their strength to lift others. Philippians 2:4 says, “Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.”

In my coordinator role, it would have been easy to focus only on getting the task done and keeping my own workload under control. But leadership isn’t just about what I produce; it’s about who I notice. That young team member was quietly serving on the “edges of the room,” faithfully taking on an unglamorous assignment.

Romans 15:1 says that those who are strong ought to shoulder the burdens of those who are still growing, not just “go our own sweet way.” In this situation, my strength wasn’t that I knew his task better than he did. My strength was experience with building processes and presenting ideas. His strength was hands‑on knowledge and initiative. As God works within both of us, He can guide us to combine those strengths in a way that benefits the whole department.

Honest Reflections From a Coordinator’s Desk

Walking through this reminded me of a few things:

• Leadership titles can change, but the call to build people doesn’t. Moving from “leader of people” to “leader of processes” felt like a step away from what I love. This experience showed me there are always people to notice and invest in, no matter what’s on my business card.
• People are often further along than we realize. Before our first meeting, I assumed we’d be building the process from scratch. Instead, he opened that notebook and showed me pages of work he’d already put in. He didn’t need me to be the hero; he needed someone to draw out what was already there and help shape it.
• Offering your strength to lift others re‑energizes you. I went into this thinking I was doing him a favor. In reality, it stirred something in me. Seeing his confidence grow reminded me why I enjoy leadership in the first place: helping other people discover what they can do.

Even in a process‑heavy role, God can work within us to encourage, guide, and to strengthen the people around us.

One Simple Step for This Week

To build hearts, homes, and leaders where you are, try this:

Look for one person quietly doing good work—and help them take a next step.

1. Notice consistent interest or effort.
   Pay attention to the person who keeps showing up, volunteering, or taking care of a task well—at work, at church, or at home.
2. Show a genuine interest by asking a question.
   Try, “You seem to have a real feel for this—how do you approach it?” or “Would you walk me through how you do that?”
3. Offer support that matches your strengths.
   Maybe you can help them organize their ideas, give feedback on something they’re building, practice a presentation, or simply encourage them to share their approach with others.
4. Form a small opportunity.
   Look for a way they can use what they’re good at to serve more broadly—a short demo for the team, a walkthrough for a new volunteer, or a chance to teach a sibling or classmate.

Those quiet choices—to notice, to ask, to support, and to open a door—are how ordinary days become growth moments. Over time, they shape workplaces, homes, and teams where people don’t just complete tasks; they grow into the kind of leaders who are ready to strengthen others too.

My youngest daughter loves to sing. She sings in the car, in the kitchen, and down the hallway like it’s her personal stage. But when the school announced auditions for a play, her excitement came with a wince.

At her last school, she had her heart set on a speaking or singing part and was instead assigned the role of a dog—a character that didn’t say or sing anything at all. She did her best with it, but inside she was crushed. So when she told me about this new audition, she said, “Dad, I don’t want to be a dog again,” and I could hear the doubt underneath the joke.

As we drove to her next sports activity, she poured out her heart about it. She wanted a real singing role, but she was unsure anything would be different this time. I asked her, “Have you prayed about it yet?” She paused, then her face lit up. Right there in the car, she prayed—simple, honest, and specific.

When she finished, I told her, “Do your best, and let God do the rest.” That was it. No big speech. Just a reminder that she could bring her desire to God, then be faithful with what she could control.

At the end of the week, I walked through the door after work and heard her yell, “Daddy!” She ran, jumped into my arms, and said, “I got the singing part!” Within minutes she was performing for the whole family. Watching her siblings cheer and laugh and clap, I realized we weren’t just celebrating a part in a play—we were celebrating a moment where believing, prayer, and courage came together.

One Key Principle From God’s Word

The verse that rises to the surface with this story is John 14:14: “If you ask me for anything in my name, I will do it.” Learning this as a child is a powerful seed—one that can develop a deep confidence that God hears and responds.

For a child, that might start with a role in a school play. For an adult, it might be wisdom for a decision, strength for a hard day, or grace for a strained relationship.

With my daughter, I couldn’t promise her the role. What I could do was help her learn to ask, to trust, and to give her best. As she prayed in the car, she wasn’t repeating a script; she was learning that she can talk to God about what matters to her and believe that He hears and answers in the way that is best.

And when the answer was “yes” and the singing part came, the joy didn’t just stay with her. It spread through our whole house. That’s the way these seeds often work: a simple act of asking and believing can end up strengthening an entire family’s beleiving.

Honest Reflections From a Parent’s Heart

This little story pressed on a few things in me:

• Disappointment can make us cautious about believing again. My daughter’s reluctance to think this new opportunity could be different sounded a lot like the voice I sometimes carry into new seasons or new risks. Past “dog roles” can shape our expectations if we’re not careful.
• Kids learn how to handle desire and delay by watching us. When our children (or team members) bring us something they deeply want, they’re not just asking for advice; they’re watching how we respond to their longings, their letdowns, and their prayers. Our words and posture quietly form how they will approach God and challenges in the future.
• Prayer often becomes the turning point, not the last option. That brief prayer in the car didn’t control the outcome, but it reshaped the way we both walked into the week. It shifted us from carrying quiet doubt alone to actively bringing the situation to God and trusting Him with what we couldn’t manage.

Pressure, disappointment, and waiting don’t generate our character; they speed up how it develops and shows. As parents and leaders, we’re always sowing something into those spaces—either quiet resignation or a living, active trust that God hears and moves.

One Simple Step for This Week

To build hearts, homes, and leaders where you are, try this:

When someone you love (or lead) shares a desire or fear, pause and plant one intentional seed of asking and believing.

1. Name what you hear.
   • “It sounds like you really want this.”
   • “You’re excited, but you’re also nervous because of what happened last time.”
2. Turn it toward God together.
   • “Have we prayed about this yet?”
   • “Let’s ask God for help and favor right now.”
3. Encourage faithful action, not control.
   • “Do your best, and let God handle what you can’t.”
   • “Our part is to be faithful; God’s part is the result.”
4. Celebrate the outcome—whatever it looks like.
   • If the answer is “yes,” rejoice and thank God together.
   • If the answer is “not this time,” sit in it with them, remind them that God still hears, and keep sowing courage and confidence to ask again.

You and I can’t control casting decisions, promotions, or outcomes. But with God’s help, we can choose what we sow into those moments: weariness or trust, pulling back or praying and believing again. Over time, those small, repeated choices don’t just influence circumstances; they form the kind of hearts, homes, and leaders who know how to ask, how to act, and how to rest in the God who hears.

Hi, I’m John—a husband, dad of four, and Bible believer who is still learning, stumbling, and growing right in the middle of real life. As a parent and a leader, there have been many days when I’ve looked at the people I love and thought, “I wish I could do more than I’m doing right now.”​

In 2023, one of those days led me to start writing little notes and slipping them into my kids’ lunchboxes. My oldest was walking through a hard season in middle school, and as I watched her struggle, I quietly carried the weight that I was failing her—that I wasn’t helping her succeed or see who she truly is. When I didn’t know what else to do, I did what I usually do: I went to God for guidance.​

As a parent, I knew my children needed more than pep talks; they needed to see who they are in Christ and be encouraged to believe it. The best way I knew to do that was to anchor them in God’s Word and to echo those truths with short, simple quotes from people who had walked through life and left wisdom behind. So, one morning, I wrote a brief note—a verse, a thought, a line of encouragement—and tucked it into a lunchbox. Then another. And another.​

What started as something small and private began to overflow. My kids would share their notes at lunch with classmates—kids who wished someone would write something like that for them. Teachers started asking to read the notes and, at times, even shared them with the whole class. At school events, staff members would pull me aside just to say how much they appreciated those little slips of paper and the encouragement they carried. That’s where Lunchbox Leadership was born: not in a strategy meeting, but in ordinary moments, with God quietly working through ink and paper to reach hearts.​

Over time, I sensed a responsibility—not just to keep this within our four walls, but to share these notes more widely. For the past several months, I’ve been posting Lunchbox Leadership notes on LinkedIn, Instagram, and Facebook, offering short, bite-sized encouragement to anyone who might need it. Now this blog is the next step: a weekly space to slow down, tell the stories behind the notes, and walk together in believing.​

Who This Blog Is For

This blog is for anyone who has ever looked at the people they love or lead and felt that tug to do more, to be more intentional, to build something that will last. It’s for:

• Parents and caregivers who long to raise strong, grounded children and to remind them who they are in Christ, even on the hard days when emotions are big and answers feel small.​
• Believers who want a relationship with their heavenly Father that is real, vital, and present in the ordinary routines of life—not just on Sundays or in crisis moments.
• Those who don’t yet know God but feel a quiet pull to search, to ask questions, and to discover who He really is through simple stories, Scripture, and honest reflection.​
• Leaders in the workplace who carry responsibility for teams and culture and are looking for practical, compassionate, and courageous ways to lead from a place of believing, not fear.​

If any part of that sounds like you, you are welcome here.

What You Can Expect Each Week

Each week, this space will offer:

• One real story from life—often from parenting, sometimes from work, sometimes from the quiet places in between.
• One key principle drawn from God’s Word and reflected in the themes behind that week’s lunchbox notes.​
• A few honest reflections and a simple step you can take to build hearts, homes, and leaders right where you are.

Lunchbox Leadership was never just about paper notes; it has always been about believing—believing what God has already accomplished in Jesus Christ, believing what He says about us, and believing that He can use ordinary moments to shape extraordinary futures. If you’re ready to walk that journey, one week at a time, you’re in the right place.