You look fine. You are not fine.
You have the books. The sermons. The reading plan that died in Leviticus. And you still feel nothing.
You are not backslidden. You are cold.
Cold iron does not move. You can swing at it all day. It rings, it bounces, and if you keep swinging it cracks. Two things shape iron. The fire, and the strike.
Information is a hammer. You have been swinging it at cold iron.
THE FIRE. Ten minutes every morning before the world gets a vote. The verse, the word on it, the prayer, and one move to make that day. Handed to you. No blank page.
THE HAMMER. Men who did that same ten minutes on that same morning. Wins and wars, out loud. Somebody notices when you go quiet for four days.
Plus the 9-week battle plan. 27 video sessions. The workbook. Every book I have written. And me. I am in this room every day.
Faith. Family. Finances. Friendships.
You are not broken, brother.
You are cold.