Touré Roberts

GOD HASN’T CHANGED HIS MIND ABOUT YOU

Touré Roberts — Mon, 31 Aug 2026 13:24:21 GMT

There are days when I feel like I can take on the world. I feel clear, certain and strong. I know who I am. I know what I’m called to do. I can see where I’m going, and somehow everything seems to make sense.

And then there are other days.

Days when, if I’m being completely transparent, I wonder where I fit in this world at all. Nothing necessarily happened. There wasn’t always some catastrophic event that knocked me off course. Sometimes I just wake up and don’t feel like the same person I was a few days ago. The confidence isn’t quite there. The clarity feels distant. What felt certain suddenly feels like a question.

I’ve had to learn in those moments something incredibly simple, but incredibly powerful: I may have changed, but God hasn’t.

That realization has become an anchor for me, because everything changes. I talk about change all the time. In fact, I’ve often said that one of the only constants in life is change. Seasons change. Relationships change. Opportunities change. Economies change. Cities change. Culture changes. Our bodies change. Our health can change. Our responsibilities and perspectives change. And perhaps most unsettling of all, we change.

But lately, it feels like change itself is changing. The world is moving at an extraordinary pace. Technology is reshaping how we work, communicate, create and even think. Artificial intelligence is disrupting industries and challenging assumptions about what the future of work and creativity will look like. Economic conditions can shift quickly. Political and geopolitical tensions can make the world feel increasingly unpredictable. Natural disasters and calamities can alter entire communities in moments. Institutions that once seemed immovable are being reconsidered, reinvented or replaced. Things we assumed would take decades are happening in years, sometimes months.

And all of that external movement inevitably creates internal movement. Our emotions change. Our confidence changes. Our perception of ourselves changes. We can feel incredibly secure on Monday and strangely insecure by Thursday. We can walk out of an experience completely convinced that God is with us and, weeks later, find ourselves wondering whether we heard Him correctly at all.

That is part of being human. But I think there is a particular danger in living through a time like this, because we exist in a universe where virtually everything is changing, and because the rate of that change seems to be accelerating, we can unconsciously begin to project change onto God.

We assume that because our feelings about ourselves changed, perhaps His feelings about us changed too. Because we are questioning our calling, perhaps He is questioning it. Because we don’t feel as gifted today, perhaps the gift disappeared. Because we don’t feel chosen, perhaps He changed His mind. Because we made a mistake, perhaps the plan has been canceled. Because we are uncertain, perhaps He has become uncertain too.

But He hasn’t. God does not suffer from our instability. Scripture puts it plainly: “I the Lord do not change.” Jesus is described as the same yesterday, today and forever, with the Father of lights holding no variation, no shadow of turning.

Think about that. No variation. No shadow of turning. God isn’t waking up tomorrow with a different opinion of you. He isn’t reconsidering what He spoke because you had a bad week. He isn’t nervous about the future He called you into, intimidated by the season you are currently navigating or trying to figure out what happens next. And He isn’t discovering your future at the same time you are. Isaiah tells us God declares the end from the beginning. Before you arrived at this moment, He already saw it. Before you became confused, He knew. Before you made the mistake, He knew. Before the door closed or the transition happened, He knew. He spoke with full knowledge of everything that would happen between the beginning and the end.

That changes something for me. Because sometimes when I am struggling to access myself, I have learned that I need to stop interrogating how I feel and go back to what God said.

I go back to the Word, to sermons, to my notes and journal entries. I go back to messages and those moments when something landed so deeply in my spirit that I knew God was speaking to me. Sometimes you have to revisit what you heard when you were clear, because you won’t always be clear. Your cloudy days don’t invalidate what you saw on your clear days.

I think this is one of the reasons God repeatedly instructed people throughout Scripture to remember. Remember what I said. Remember what I did. Remember where I brought you from. Remember the covenant. Because memory can become an anchor when emotions become unreliable.

There will be moments when you cannot access the version of yourself who was courageous enough to say yes, but you can access the word that made you courageous. There will be moments when you cannot find the confidence you once had, so go back to what God said when you had it. There will be moments when your circumstances seem completely inconsistent with what you believe God promised. Go back to the promise. Not because you’re living in the past, but because what God spoke then can stabilize you now.

This is what covenant means. God is not merely a God who makes promises. He is a God who keeps covenant. His faithfulness isn’t dependent upon our feelings, and that may be one of the most comforting revelations I’ve ever received, because if God’s faithfulness depended on my consistency, I would be in trouble.

I have strong days and weak days, certain days and uncertain days. There are days when I feel incredibly close to God and days when I have to intentionally remind myself of what I know. But God’s character does not rise and fall with my emotional condition. He remains. When everything around you is moving, He remains. When you feel like yourself and when you don’t quite recognize yourself, He remains. And because He remains, what He has spoken remains worthy of your trust.

There is something especially powerful about knowing this right now. We cannot predict what technology will look like ten years from now. We cannot know exactly how our industries, economies, cities or cultures will evolve. We cannot anticipate every disruption, transition, opportunity or calamity that may come. But our inability to predict the future does not mean that God is uncertain about it. The future that surprises us does not surprise Him. And that means my security cannot ultimately come from my ability to predict what happens next. It has to come from knowing the One who is already there.

So if you’re in one of those seasons right now, don’t make permanent conclusions about your life based on temporary feelings. Don’t rewrite your calling because you’re tired. Don’t renegotiate your identity because you’re insecure. Don’t bury a word because your circumstances currently contradict it.

Go back. Go back to the Scriptures that carried you, the sermon that awakened something in you, the notes you wrote when you knew you were hearing from God. Go back to the message someone sent you at exactly the right time. Go back to the journal, the promise, the word. Go back to what He said and read it again. Not to remind God. To remind yourself.

Because you may have changed since He spoke it. Your circumstances may have changed. Your emotions may have changed. Your confidence, environment and even the world around you may have changed.

But God hasn’t. And in a world where everything seems capable of changing overnight, I find incredible peace in knowing there is still something, Someone, upon whom I can build my life.

Go back to the journal entry from that season when everything felt clear. Read it again. That’s still Him talking.

What If the Shaking Is Making Room for a Renaissance?

Touré Roberts — Thu, 27 Aug 2026 13:14:14 GMT

I have been thinking a lot about the word renaissance.

Recently, while speaking to our community in Los Angeles, I shared what I believe is a prophetic word about the city: Los Angeles is positioned for a renaissance. Not simply another moment of cultural relevance, but a period of spiritual awakening that ultimately produces creative, economic and cultural renewal.

The more I have sat with that word, though, the more I have realized it doesn’t belong to Los Angeles alone. Something is shifting everywhere. Industries are being disrupted, institutions are being reconsidered, and technology is rewriting the rules of entire professions. Old assumptions about work, leadership, creativity, education, media, business and even community are being challenged. For many people, that feels like instability. And some of it is.

But what if disruption isn’t the entire story? What if some of what we’re calling disruption is actually transition, and the shaking of this moment is making room for something that could not emerge under the old structures?

Scripture gives us a fascinating framework for this. Hebrews speaks of a shaking in which the things that can be shaken are removed so that what cannot be shaken may remain. In other words, shaking reveals. It exposes what was temporary, tests what was structural, and forces us to distinguish between what must be preserved and what we’ve simply become accustomed to. Throughout history, some of humanity’s greatest periods of creativity have emerged from seasons of enormous disruption.

Renaissance Means More Than Revival

The word renaissance literally carries the idea of rebirth. Historically, the Renaissance describes an extraordinary period of cultural renewal that began in Italy and eventually spread across Europe, and what makes that period so fascinating is its breadth. It wasn’t simply an artistic movement. Something awakened across civilization. Art changed, architecture changed, science and literature changed, commerce shifted, technology accelerated, institutions developed, and new economic opportunities emerged. Perhaps most importantly, people began seeing possibilities they hadn’t seen before.

That is what happens in a renaissance. It’s bigger than an event. It’s an atmosphere of awakening that eventually reshapes the world around it. And I believe this is where the Church has an extraordinary opportunity.

We often talk about revival, and I believe deeply in it. But revival and renaissance aren’t exactly the same thing. Revival brings something back to life; renaissance gives what has been revived a new expression. Revival happens within people, and renaissance happens when revived people begin rebuilding the world around them. The altar may be the ignition point, but the world becomes the canvas. That means the evidence of a genuine move of God should eventually be visible beyond church buildings. It should show up in companies and films, in music and technology, in education and entrepreneurship, in architecture and fashion, in philanthropy and medicine, in government and community development, in storytelling and families and institutions and culture. Because when God awakens people, awakened people create. They build, they solve, they imagine, they serve, they innovate. They become answers to problems their generation hasn’t yet figured out how to solve.

Sometimes the Future Requires a Dismantling

This is why I am becoming increasingly careful about automatically mourning everything that is disappearing. Not everything that ends was supposed to continue, and not every structure that is disrupted needs to be reconstructed exactly as it was. Sometimes an old system has to become insufficient before we become willing to imagine a better one.

That doesn’t make disruption painless. People lose jobs. Industries change. Institutions struggle. Familiar ways of doing things disappear, and we shouldn’t minimize the human cost of transition. But neither should we allow our attachment to yesterday to blind us to tomorrow.

Isaiah 61 contains one of the great pictures of restoration in Scripture. It speaks of beauty replacing ashes, joy replacing mourning, and God’s people rebuilding old ruins, raising former desolations and repairing places devastated for generations. Notice the language: they don’t merely survive the ruins, they build from them. There is a generation whose assignment is not merely to lament what was lost but to discern what can now be built. I believe we are part of that generation.

The Future May Be Hidden in Something We Forgot

One of the most fascinating things about the historical Renaissance is that not everything revolutionary about it was new. Much of it was recovered. Texts were rediscovered, ideas were revisited, and ancient wisdom was brought into conversation with new realities. Things that had been buried, forgotten, neglected or previously inaccessible suddenly became useful to another generation.

That speaks powerfully to me, because sometimes the future isn’t waiting for us to invent it. Sometimes it’s buried in something we need to recover. There are ideas your parents’ generation couldn’t build. There are prayers someone prayed that they never lived to see answered. There are principles we abandoned because they appeared old-fashioned that may contain wisdom desperately needed in a new age. There are dreams you put down because the timing wasn’t right, gifts inside you that circumstances forced you to bury, wells that need to be reopened and bones that need breath again.

But recovery doesn’t mean imitation. We aren’t called to reproduce another generation’s expression. We’re called to recover what was true, powerful and eternal, and then reinterpret it for the age in which God has placed us. Every generation must serve God in its generation, and that means we have to understand ours.

Look at What Is Happening Right Now

Artificial intelligence is transforming knowledge work. The creator economy has changed who can build an audience. Technology has lowered the cost of launching companies, and people can now distribute ideas globally without traditional gatekeepers. Entire industries are being reinvented in real time. New professions are emerging while others disappear. One person with a laptop, an idea and sufficient skill can now build something that once required an entire institution. Of course, these developments carry real questions and real risks. But they also carry extraordinary opportunity.

The question for believers cannot simply be, “What is happening to the world?” We must also ask, “What is becoming possible because the world is changing?” And perhaps even more importantly, “What has God placed inside me that makes sense for this moment?”

You may have been praying for an opportunity that could only exist after an industry changed. You may have been developing a gift that suddenly has a distribution channel that didn’t exist ten years ago. You may carry an idea that was impossible under the economics of the previous era, or experience from one industry that becomes extraordinarily valuable when applied to another.

This is why discernment matters so much. Opportunity rarely arrives wearing a name tag that says OPPORTUNITY. Sometimes it looks like disruption. Sometimes it looks like uncertainty, or an industry being dismantled, or the end of something you assumed would always exist. But endings create openings, and openings create opportunities for people who are prepared to recognize them.

This Is Not the Time to Bury Your Gift

Jesus tells a story about servants who were entrusted with talents. Two of them put what they had been given to work. One buried his. I wonder how many people have buried something that this moment desperately needs, a gift or an idea, a business or a manuscript, a technology or a solution, a creative concept, a nonprofit, a film, a ministry, a product, a platform, a new model for an old industry. Something God put inside you that you’ve continued to call “potential” because pursuing it would require courage.

This is not the hour to bury it. If we are entering a renaissance, spectators will experience it, but builders will shape it.

Get Ready for the Renaissance

A renaissance creates extraordinary opportunities, but opportunity favors preparation. So prepare.

Get your heart ready. Check your motives, because success without formation can destroy the person who achieves it. Get your gifts ready by practicing, studying and sharpening your craft, because excellence is stewardship. Get your ideas ready. Write them down, develop them, test them, and stop allowing them to remain permanently theoretical. Get your business ready by building the structure, learning the economics and understanding your customer, because you prepare the net before the harvest arrives. Get your creativity ready. Make room to think, create environments that allow imagination to breathe, and protect the part of you that still knows how to wonder. Get your family ready by staying connected and covering one another, because no opportunity is worth gaining the world and losing the people God entrusted to you.

And get your faith ready, because renaissance requires faith. By definition, you’re preparing for something that doesn’t fully exist yet. Faith gives you the ability to see it before you can touch it.

The City Is a Canvas. So Is the World.

I still believe Los Angeles is uniquely positioned for this. Few places on earth possess such a concentration of storytellers, artists, entrepreneurs, innovators, dreamers, builders and cultural architects. Imagine what could happen if spiritual awakening collided with that kind of creative infrastructure.

But I no longer believe this conversation should stop at the borders of a city. Every region has something buried within it. Every industry contains possibilities waiting to be discovered. Every generation receives problems the previous generation couldn’t solve and tools the previous generation couldn’t imagine. And every believer carries something.

Maybe the shaking around us isn’t simply evidence that the world is falling apart. Maybe some things are falling away because they’ve reached the end of their usefulness, and maybe, underneath all of that movement, something is trying to be born.

This is not a call to blindly celebrate disruption. It’s a call to discern it, to ask God what must remain, what must be recovered, what must be released and what must now be built. Because the next renaissance will not be built by people who spend all of their energy mourning the previous era. It will be built by people who can honor what was, discern what is, and courageously create what should be.

So don’t just watch the shaking. Look for the opening. Sharpen your gift. Develop your idea. Build the thing. Take the meeting. Learn the technology. Write the book. Start the company. Make the art. Solve the problem. Answer the call.

There is a new world emerging. And perhaps you were born for the privilege of helping build it.

LEARN MORE ABOUT THE CALLED SEMINARS

You’re Not Stuck. You’re in First Gear.

Touré Roberts — Tue, 18 Aug 2026 12:22:44 GMT

Last night I taught The Science of Momentum, and there’s one idea from that conversation I don’t want to leave in the room.

Some of you have been calling yourself stuck when you may simply be in first gear. And there is a very big difference between the two.

Think about an eighteen wheel truck carrying a full load. When that truck first begins to move, there is nothing impressive about it. First gear is slow. The engine strains. It sounds like an incredible amount of work is being exerted for what appears to be very little movement.

But nothing is wrong with the truck. The truck is carrying weight.

I know that principle personally, because I lived it.

In the early days of building ONE, it seemed like we would never grow. For two years, I gave everything I had. I was working hard, I was just as anointed then as I am now, and still the movement didn’t seem to grow beyond thirty people.

Two years. Thirty people.

I want to sit on that for a second, because it would have been easy to read those two years as evidence that something was wrong. Wrong location, wrong message, wrong timing, wrong me.

But eventually, because of that faithfulness in the small room, I received an instruction. Move the church to another part of town.

Once we obeyed that instruction, the movement grew to thousands.

Here’s what I understand now that I didn’t understand then. Those two years at thirty people were never about the thirty people. They were about me. God was building the capacity in me to carry the weight of thousands, and later, even more than that. If I had been given a room of thousands before I had the weight to carry it, it would have broken me.

The slow start wasn’t the delay of the vision. It was the construction of the capacity to hold it.

That’s what first gear is for.

It’s not wasted time. Sometimes God is putting weight in you before He puts weight on you.

Momentum Is Compounded Obedience

We tend to treat momentum like a feeling. You wake up motivated. You’re excited about what you’re building. Everything is clicking, and we call that momentum. Then the feeling fades and we assume the momentum faded with it.

But feelings come and go. Momentum is something different.

Momentum is compounded obedience.

Not compounded talent. Not compounded intensity. Obedience to the instruction, the idea, the nudge that’s been placed in front of you. One instruction honored leads to another, which leads to another, until movement starts producing movement.

That’s also why I think we’ve misunderstood stewardship. We usually think of it as managing what we already possess. Our money, our time, our gifts, our opportunities. That’s stewardship, but it’s not the whole picture.

There’s another kind of stewardship that may be even more important, and it’s the one most of us skip.

Stewarding the instruction.

I’m talking about that idea you had. The phone call you know you need to make. The proposal you need to send. The conversation you keep avoiding. That thing that came to you in prayer, in the car, or in the middle of the night, that you still haven’t done anything with.

That instruction isn’t something for you to possess. It’s a seed.

And you don’t steward a seed by staring at it until you fully understand what it can become.

You put it in the ground.

You Don’t Need the Itinerary

This is one of my favorite realizations from the entire masterclass, so let me slow down here too.

God doesn’t always give you an itinerary. He gives you an ignition key.

An itinerary tells you every turn you’re going to make before you make it. An ignition key simply starts the vehicle. I think many of us have been demanding itineraries from instructions that were only ever meant to be ignition keys.

We want every step outlined, every risk covered, every question answered before we’ll move. But that’s not what a first instruction is designed to do. Its job isn’t to explain the whole journey. Its job is to start the engine.

You don’t need step four right now. You need to steward step one.

And here’s the part that really challenges how many of us have been conditioned to think. Some of the clarity you’ve been praying for may actually be waiting on the other side of the movement you’ve been postponing.

You don’t think your way into the next instruction. You obey your way into it.

Delay Is Not Neutral

Now let me tell you where I’ve felt this the most painfully, because it hasn’t only shown up in seasons of growth. It’s shown up in the moments I avoided.

There have been a few times in leading an organization when I knew I was supposed to transition someone out. I knew it. I delayed anyway. And the organization suffered for it.

Not only that, but having the wrong person in that seat kept the right person at bay. The seat was occupied, so the door stayed closed.

Once I finally obeyed the instruction, the organization got healthier, and eventually the right person appeared. It was another reminder that sometimes what we’re waiting for is waiting on our obedience.

There was also a season, earlier in my life, where I was resistant to an instruction from God to move on from a work situation. I stayed longer than I should have. And because I delayed, I wasn’t able to leave on the highest note available to me.

That opportunity to leave well, at the right time, on the right terms, was there. I just didn’t take it when it was offered.

I don’t believe delay is neutral anymore.

I used to.

I thought procrastination just meant nothing happened, that we didn’t move forward but we didn’t move backward either. We just paused.

I don’t think that’s true.

Procrastination is negative momentum.

Momentum depends on sequence. One movement sets up the next movement. One conversation opens the next door. One act of obedience creates the conditions for the next instruction. A step makes sense because of the step that came before it, and the timing between those movements is part of what allows momentum to form at all.

So when we delay an instruction, we’re not simply pressing pause on something that will sit there untouched until we’re ready to come back to it. We may be interrupting the sequence that instruction was supposed to set in motion.

That’s why some people keep feeling like they’re starting over. It isn’t that they lack vision or capability. It’s that they keep breaking the chain.

And without sequence, there’s no compounding. Without compounding, there’s no momentum. That is the same chain reaction at the heart of the masterclass.

So here’s what I want you to do with this, not just read it.

Identify the one instruction you already have. Not the entire vision, not the five year plan. Just the instruction sitting in front of you right now.

Then ask yourself:

What’s the smallest irreversible step I can take today that honors it?

Maybe it’s the email. The call. The first page. The conversation you’ve been avoiding. Whatever it is, move on it.

It will probably feel small and unimpressive.

That’s fine.

That’s first gear, and nobody expects first gear to look like fifth.

This Is Just the Beginning

Even last night, launching The Called Seminars for the first time, I felt gear one strain in real time.

I prepared hard for that room. And I still ran into technical difficulties I hadn’t planned for, because it was the first time I’d ever taught in this new format.

The night was powerful. It was also, in places, a little clunky.

Both things were true at once.

I’m telling you that because I don’t want you to think I’m teaching this from a distance.

I taught a room about first gear last night while standing in my own.

For everyone who joined me for The Science of Momentum, thank you for being in the room. The replay is being prepared now, and we’ll let you know as soon as it’s ready.

What we started with Momentum is becoming something much bigger.

I’m launching The Called Seminars, an ongoing series of learning experiences built to develop us across five dimensions I believe are essential to the life we’re being called to lead:

Formation. Future. Function. Flourishing. Impact.

Momentum dealt with Formation.

Next, we move into Future.

THE INTELLIGENCE AGE

Learning to Think, Discern, and Decide in the Age of AI

Monday, September 14 at 6:30 PM CT

We’re entering a world where intelligence and answers are becoming increasingly abundant. Artificial intelligence is changing how we access information. Human beings are producing and sharing ideas at unprecedented speed. And for those of us who believe God still speaks, one question becomes more important than ever:

How do I know what to trust?

That’s the conversation we’re going to have next.

Members of The Called Seminars receive every new seminar, along with the workbook, the replay, and access to our growing library.

But before you click anything, go back to the instruction you’ve been sitting on.

You don’t need the whole road before you move. You don’t need gear five to get out of gear one. You don’t need another year of thinking about something God already gave you enough light to begin.

The truck is loaded.

The key is already in your hand.

Turn it.

And now, move.

The Prayer That Cannot Fail

Touré Roberts — Thu, 13 Aug 2026 12:58:06 GMT

There are a lot of prayers you could pray today, but there’s only one prayer the Lord himself taught us to pray. That’s what makes it the most perfect prayer. Not because Jesus prayed it, but because it’s the prayer he gave us to pray when he was asked by His disciples.

And when you walk through it line by line, you realize Jesus wasn’t simply giving us words to recite. He was giving us a strategic framework for prayer. There is an order to it, a progression where every phrase does something and every part prepares you for what comes next.

That’s why I know this is the prayer that cannot fail. Now, I don’t mean you can pray it and somehow force God to give you whatever outcome you want. What I mean is that when you understand what Jesus is actually teaching us to pray, there is no way to sincerely pray through this framework and get nothing from it. It changes your perspective, brings you into alignment, reminds you of your provision, keeps you humble, protects you from distraction and ultimately leaves you confident in the power of God.

Let me show you what I mean.

Jesus says in Matthew 6:9–13:

“In this manner, therefore, pray:

Our Father in heaven,
Hallowed be Your name.
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
As we forgive our debtors.
And do not lead us into temptation,
But deliver us from the evil one.
For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”

Matthew 6:9–13, NKJV

When I look at this prayer, I see six movements that give us a framework we can actually use every day: position, priority, provision, mercy, protection and praise.

1. Position: Pray From a Higher Place

It starts with, “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name.”

Any true prayer ought to start in worship, because before I start talking to God about everything happening around me, I need to direct my eyes toward the One who has all power. There is something that happens immediately when I do that. “Our Father in heaven” takes my thinking out of the finite earth realm and lifts it into the unlimited and abundant heavenly realm.

In other words, prayer changes my position.

Most of us naturally approach prayer from the position of whatever is bothering us. We’re thinking about what we don’t have, what isn’t working, what somebody did, what we’re afraid might happen or what seems impossible. But Jesus teaches us not to begin there. Before you talk about the problem, look at the Father. Before you rehearse the limitations of earth, remember the resources of heaven.

You start praying from a higher place, and that higher position changes how you see everything you are about to pray about.

2. Priority: Align Before You Ask

Then Jesus says, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

Once you come to that higher place, you also come to a higher priority. You recognize that God’s priority is His Kingdom, and that is not God being selfish because He has made provision within His Kingdom for everything that we need.

That’s why Jesus tells us in Matthew 6:33 to “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” and all these other things will be added to us. I think about His righteousness here as His alignment. Before I start asking God to align everything with what I want, prayer first asks me to come into alignment with Him.

So when you pray, “Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” you are praying for alignment with the power, freedom, liberty and goodness of heaven. You are essentially saying, “God, bring what is true where You are into what I am dealing with where I am.”

That is what makes prayer so powerful. Prayer is not simply an attempt to get heaven to agree with my agenda. Prayer brings my life into agreement with heaven’s agenda, and as I align with it, I begin to experience on earth what has already been established in heaven.

In that sense, prayer is literally praying heaven’s resources into earthly realities.

3. Provision: There Is Bread for Today

Then He says, “Give us this day our daily bread.”

I love this because there is something implied in the language that we can easily miss. Jesus teaches us to ask for our daily bread, which means there is already provision for the day. In God, it’s already done. So I am not beginning my day wondering whether God has what I need. I am acknowledging that whatever this day requires, my source has already made provision for it.

Now, I do believe it is prudent to be a good steward. If you can have a month, six months or even a year put aside, I think that is wise. We should save, plan, invest and manage what God puts into our hands responsibly. But none of that changes the fact that our ultimate provision comes from God. Even if you cannot see six months ahead, you’ve still got God, and you can trust Him for today.

And when Jesus talks about daily bread, I don’t believe He is only talking about money. Sometimes your bread for the day is wisdom. Sometimes it is guidance. Sometimes it is strength or discernment. Sometimes it is an opportunity that you need to recognize and steward correctly.

So before you enter the day assuming you don’t have what you need, remember what Jesus taught you to pray. There is provision for this day. There is bread for today.

4. Mercy: Receive It and Extend It

Then Jesus says, “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.”

This is where humility gets built into the framework because every day I am being reminded that I need mercy, and if I need mercy, then I also need to be willing to extend mercy.

It is fascinating how forgiving and understanding we become when we stay conscious of how forgiving and understanding God has been toward us. It becomes much harder to stand in self-righteousness over somebody else when I am simultaneously asking God to have grace toward me.

There is also freedom in this because Jesus is teaching us not to carry yesterday’s offenses into today’s assignment. Every day there is an exchange happening. I receive mercy from God, and because I have received it, I have mercy available to extend to somebody else.

You need mercy every day, and you’re meant to extend it every day.

5. Protection: Guard Me From Evil and Distraction

Then comes the one I really want you to catch: “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

There are two things I see happening here. The first is protection, and I think this should be prayed over yourself and over your children every single day. God, keep us from evil. Protect us from the things we can see and the things we cannot see.

But I also see something else in this idea of temptation, and that is distraction. Temptation is not always an invitation to do something obviously destructive. Sometimes it is simply an invitation to give your attention to something that does not deserve it.

So part of this prayer for me becomes, “God, don’t let me be distracted today from my daily bread, from my opportunities, from the people I’m supposed to impact and from the things I’m actually called and purposed to do.”

Because distraction can become its own kind of evil. You can have the bread and miss it because you were distracted. You can have an opportunity right in front of you and fail to recognize it because something insignificant consumed the attention that opportunity required. You can have an assignment on your life and spend an entire day giving your energy to something that had absolutely nothing to do with it.

That means one of the most important prayers you can pray before you start your day is simply, “God, protect my attention. Don’t let anything pull me away from what matters today.”

6. Praise: Leave Prayer Differently Than You Entered

Finally, the prayer closes the same way it opened: “For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever.”

We started with praise, acknowledging who God is, and now we end with praise, acknowledging that He has all power and the ability to bring everything we have just prayed to pass.

I think that tells us something about how we should come out of prayer.

We should come out with joy, not anxiety.

Think about what just happened. You lifted your perspective from earth toward heaven. You aligned yourself with God’s Kingdom and His will. You acknowledged that there is provision for the day ahead. You received mercy and released the people you needed to forgive. You asked God to protect you from evil and guard you from distraction. Then you finished by reminding yourself that the Kingdom, the power and the glory all belong to Him.

After all of that, why would you walk away and immediately start worrying about everything you just gave to God?

I always say, never pick back up in worry what you already put down in prayer.

That, to me, is the genius of the framework Jesus gave us. It begins by changing where we are looking, and by the time we get to the end, it has changed how we are prepared to live.

So when you pray tomorrow morning, remember the progression: position, priority, provision, mercy, protection and praise. You don’t have to make prayer complicated. Jesus already gave you the framework.

Before the meetings, before the decisions, before the problems, before the opportunities and before you even know what the day will bring, pray the prayer He taught you to pray.

Then get up and live from the higher place you just prayed from.

That is why I call it the prayer that cannot fail.

Join The Masterclass

What Are We Paying Attention To?

Touré Roberts — Thu, 06 Aug 2026 14:38:47 GMT

I’ve been thinking a great deal lately about attention. Not because attention is scarce, but because it is consequential.

Every generation is remembered, at least in part, by what captured its imagination. What we collectively choose to pay attention to eventually shapes what we become. Attention becomes conversation. Conversation becomes culture and culture becomes destiny.

That is why I have become increasingly concerned about the kinds of conversations dominating so much of our public life. Not because they are controversial, but because they often are trivial.

We are living through one of the most significant periods of human history. Artificial intelligence is reshaping work. Entire industries are being reinvented. Education is changing. Economics are changing. Leadership is changing. The pace of innovation is accelerating faster than most of us can comprehend. The future is being written in real time.

Yet so much of our collective attention is consumed by gossip, outrage, celebrity feuds, manufactured controversy, and the endless pursuit of whatever is most sensational this week. I cannot help but wonder what opportunities are passing us by while we’re watching everyone else’s business.

As a follower of Jesus, I don’t believe attention is merely a practical issue. I believe it is also a spiritual one. Scripture continually calls us to fix our minds on what is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and commendable. Paul goes even further in Colossians, telling us to set our minds on things above, not on things of the earth. That’s not a call to disengage from the world, it’s an invitation to a higher way of thinking, one that isn’t shaped by whatever is loudest or most sensational in a given moment.

Scripture also warns against slander, division, idle talk, and sowing discord. Satan himself is described as “the accuser of the brethren.” That should make every one of us pause before participating in industries built on accusation, speculation, and tearing people down. Not everything that captures attention deserves our attention.

That’s really the heart of what I want to say to those of us who carry influence, in whatever measure we carry it: the people God entrusts with influence should see that influence as stewardship, not ownership. Our platforms should not merely attract people. They should strengthen people. Imagine what would happen if those blessed with large audiences devoted themselves to helping people understand emerging technologies, build businesses, steward finances, strengthen families, deepen their faith, develop leadership skills, improve their health, and cultivate wisdom. Imagine if influence became about formation instead of fascination. Imagine if we measured success not only by views, but by value.

I want to say something personal here. As a Black man, I feel a particular burden to speak to my own community. Not because this issue belongs exclusively to us, because it doesn’t. Every community wrestles with distraction. Every culture has its own appetite for sensationalism. But I believe that we have a unique opportunity. Our history is one of extraordinary resilience, innovation, faith, creativity, courage, and perseverance. Again and again, we have demonstrated an ability to create beauty under pressure, hope in hardship, and excellence against overwhelming odds. Those are gifts the world desperately needs now more than ever.

That is why it grieves me that so much of what often gains the most traction in our spaces is conflict, humiliation, gossip, and division. Those things may generate clicks. They may produce revenue. But they do very little to produce the type of flourishing that society needs. Eventually, every culture becomes known for whatever it consistently celebrates. That is worth thinking about.

My desire is to see the next generation inherit a culture that prizes wisdom over spectacle. Builders over commentators. Creators over critics and solutions over scandals. Not because controversy should never be discussed, not because laughter is wrong, not because we shouldn’t discuss difficult issues, but because those things cannot become the center of our collective attention while the future is demanding our preparation.

The world does not simply need more content. It needs more contributors. More builders. More innovators. More peacemakers. More people willing to do the quiet work of understanding what is happening in the world and helping others navigate it with wisdom.

Jesus said we are the light of the world. Light doesn’t merely expose darkness, it illuminates the path forward. Perhaps that is the higher calling of influence: not simply to tell people what happened yesterday, but to prepare them for tomorrow.

I believe that the future belongs to those who pay attention to the right things. May we become people whose attention reflects our calling. And may our platforms, whatever their size, leave the people who encounter them more hopeful, more informed, more capable, and more prepared than they were before.

That would be influence worthy of the trust it was given.

Momentum Masterclass

You Were Never Meant to Carry This

Touré Roberts — Mon, 03 Aug 2026 18:06:11 GMT

I've been reflecting on something lately, and I want to bring you into it. It's a word I've found myself thinking about over and over again, and honestly, if someone had used it to describe me a few years ago, I'm not sure I would have taken it as a compliment.

The word is carefree.

Somewhere along the way, we've come to associate being carefree with being irresponsible. It sounds like someone who isn't paying attention, who lacks discipline, who avoids responsibility or simply floats through life without much concern. We admire people who are careful. We celebrate people who are driven. But carefree almost feels immature.

And yet, the more I've walked with God, the more I've become convinced that one of the greatest invitations of faith is to become increasingly carefree. Not careless. Carefree. The difference between those two words is much bigger than it first appears. Carelessness neglects responsibility. Being carefree simply refuses to carry responsibilities that were never yours to begin with.

What do I mean by that? I mean the things that were always God's responsibility to begin with. Protecting us. Taking care of us. Providing for us. Those aren't things we were ever assigned to do, they're things He assigned Himself to do. Now, that doesn't give us a pass to be lazy or to check out on our own responsibilities. We still have to do all that we know to do. But once we've done that, the rest belongs to Him. I say it often, and there's a little humor in it, but I mean it: how God does it is none of our business. We have what's our business, and He has what's His business, and a lot of our anxiety comes from meddling in God's business instead of staying in our own lane and trusting Him to handle His.

That realization has been quietly reshaping the way I think about faith. I've started to wonder if much of what we call stress is really misplaced stewardship. We've become so accustomed to carrying everything that we've forgotten to ask whether everything we're carrying actually belongs to us.

Think about how much energy we spend trying to manage tomorrow. We replay conversations that haven't happened yet. We imagine outcomes that don't exist. We build entire emotional responses around futures that have never arrived. Before long, we've become exhausted by battles we were never actually fighting, only anticipating.

Jesus saw this tendency long before we did. That's why in Matthew 6 He doesn't simply command us not to worry, He gently exposes the futility of it: "Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink... your heavenly Father knows that you have need of all these things."

That verse has been sitting with me. Your Father already knows. Before you recognized the need, He already knew. Before your mind began trying to solve it, He had already seen it. Before fear started writing its version of your future, God was already there.

Then Jesus says something that completely reorders our priorities: "But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you." Notice what He's doing. He isn't dismissing your needs, He's relocating your attention. Our tendency is to seek provision and hope we'll find God along the way. Jesus tells us to seek God and trust Him with the provision. What if one of the greatest acts of faith is allowing God to care about the things that have consumed our attention?

Paul says something remarkably similar in Philippians: "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." Then comes the promise: "And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

I've always loved that verse, but lately I've noticed something I hadn't considered before. God's peace doesn't merely comfort us, it guards us. It stands watch over the two places anxiety attacks most: our hearts and our minds. Fear goes after the heart, convincing us that something terrible is about to happen. Anxiety goes after the mind, recruiting our imagination and convincing us to rehearse every possible negative outcome until fiction begins to feel like reality.

But God's peace interrupts that cycle. Not because we've answered every question or solved every problem, but because we've entrusted them to the One who already has the answers.

I wonder if that's what it really means to become carefree. Not that life suddenly becomes easy. Not that wisdom no longer matters. Not that we stop planning, preparing, or working diligently. Quite the opposite. Faith doesn't make us less responsible, it simply teaches us which responsibilities belong to us and which belong to God. We still show up. We still do the work. We still steward what has been entrusted to us. But we stop trying to carry outcomes that only God can control.

There's another verse that has taken on new meaning for me: "Cast all your cares upon Him, because He cares for you." I've read that verse countless times, but recently one simple thought arrested me: the reason I can release my cares is because Someone else cares. Those two ideas belong together. My ability to let go is rooted in His willingness to hold on. Every care I surrender creates room for peace. Every burden I release makes more space for trust.

Perhaps that's what being carefree really is. Not pretending life has no weight, but refusing to carry weight that grace never intended you to bear. Maybe that's why Jesus could sleep in the middle of a storm. Maybe that's why Paul could worship in a prison. Maybe that's why Scripture repeatedly calls us to peace instead of panic. They weren't disconnected from reality, they were deeply connected to the One who ruled over it.

The more I follow Jesus, the less I think faith is about controlling my future. It's about trusting the One who is already there. That doesn't mean every prayer is answered the way I hoped, or that every season unfolds according to my timeline. But it does mean that nothing catches God by surprise. Nothing about tomorrow is creating anxiety in heaven. And if the One who holds tomorrow isn't anxious about tomorrow, perhaps I don't have to be either.

Maybe becoming carefree isn't becoming less responsible. Maybe it's becoming rightly aligned. Aligned with a Father who never intended His children to be crushed beneath the weight of imagined futures. Aligned with a Savior who continually invited weary people to exchange their burdens for His peace. Aligned with a Kingdom where trust accomplishes what worry never will.

The longer I live, the less impressed I am by people who can carry everything. I'm becoming much more inspired by people who know what to put down. Because while faithfulness requires that I carry my calling, it never requires that I carry the world. God already does that, and He does it remarkably well.

Momentum Masterclass

What Stopping Taught Me About Starting Again

Touré Roberts — Mon, 27 Jul 2026 14:11:55 GMT

There’s a productivity tool I’ve come to believe is essential to success, especially in an era like this one, when things move faster than most of us can keep up with. It’s not a habit tracker or a new app. It’s momentum. And the thing I’ve learned about momentum, the thing I had to relearn this year, is that it isn’t something you stumble into. It has to be produced, with intentionality.

I found this out the hard way. My wife Sarah suffered a serious accident back in April. She was jumping on the trampoline with our ten-year-old and came down wrong, fracturing her neck in multiple places. One inch higher and we’re having a very different conversation. One inch lower, paralysis. By the grace of God, neither of those was her portion. After a complicated surgery and a hard recovery, she’s now well on her way back to full health, and I’m deeply grateful.

For a couple of months, though, everything else stopped. My primary focus was making sure she was okay and holding our household together, and honestly, that’s exactly where it needed to be. There was nowhere else I wanted to be.

When things finally stabilized, I went back to the work I’d been so passionate about, including a new and exciting vision for The Called, my platform for leaders, creatives, and entrepreneurs. I sat down with the same discipline I’d always had, the same motivation, ready to pick right back up. And something happened that I had never experienced before. I couldn’t get the plane off the ground.

I started questioning myself. Was something wrong with me? Was I procrastinating? Had I lost my edge somehow? But none of that was true. I was motivated, I was eager, I was ready to work. So what was actually going on?

After some prayer and a lot of retrospection, the answer came to me. It wasn’t discipline I was missing. It was momentum. Some things can only be accomplished at a certain velocity, and when I stopped everything to care for my family (the right call, without question) I didn’t just pause the work. I let the momentum drain out of it. Momentum is what gives you the capacity to carry more and move faster than you ever could standing still, and once it’s gone, you have to build it back up from scratch.

I’ve been digging into this ever since, the psychology of it, the neuroscience of it, the spiritual pattern underneath it all. There’s more to it than I can fit here and I’ll really unpack it in The Science of Momentum Masterclass, but there’s one principle I want to leave you with today, because I think it opens the door to everything else.

Momentum begins with clarity.

There’s a passage in Habakkuk where God tells the prophet to write the vision and make it plain, “that he may run who reads it.” That single verse teaches more about momentum than most productivity books I’ve read. If you want to move with speed, if you want real momentum, you have to see the vision clearly first. Not just have it in your head, and not just jot it down, but make it plain. Legible. Specific enough that someone reading it could run with it themselves.

That’s the work I had to return to. Not simply having a vision written down, but writing it with such clarity that I could experience it internally, then staring at it, absorbing it, until the clarity of it, the excitement of it, the sense of what it would produce in the earth, became more real to me than my hesitation.

So if you’re feeling stuck today, maybe you’re coming back from vacation, maybe life handed you a setback you didn’t see coming, maybe you just lost steam somewhere along the way and you’re finally ready to find it again, start here. If you haven’t written the vision, write it. In detail. Write it until you can see it. Then go back and read it. Absorb it. Let it become your reality again. That’s where momentum starts to jumpstart.

There’s a lot more to this, the psychology behind why we lose momentum, the neuroscience of how it’s rebuilt, the practical framework I now lean on to protect it going forward. I’ll be walking through all of it on August 17th at a free masterclass, and if this piece resonated with you, that conversation will go even deeper.

Until then, write the vision. Make it plain. And run.

MASTERCLASS

The War for Your Mind

Touré Roberts — Wed, 22 Jul 2026 19:55:44 GMT

A few nights ago I couldn’t sleep.

Sometimes when that happens, I’ll put on a message and just listen.

As I lay there, one thought kept coming back to me.

In today’s world, we are constantly being influenced.

Every day there are countless voices competing for our attention. Our phones are designed to keep us engaged. Algorithms learn what captures our interest. Advertisers spend billions trying to shape our desires. Social media rewards whatever keeps us looking just a little bit longer.

Influence isn’t inherently bad. Every parent hopes to influence their children. Every teacher hopes to influence their students. Every pastor hopes to influence the people they serve. Healthy influence is one of God’s gifts.

The question isn’t whether you’re being influenced. You are.

The question is, who’s shaping the way you think?

As I listened that night, another question surfaced in my heart.

At what point does influence become manipulation?

The message I was listening to wasn’t about technology. It was an old teaching by Derek Prince.

He was talking about witchcraft.

What caught my attention wasn’t the supernatural side of it. It was his definition.

He described witchcraft as the attempt to control another person’s will. That’s manipulation.

It isn’t about helping someone see what’s true. It’s about controlling what they see so they’ll choose what you want them to choose.

Then he pointed out something I’d never really considered.

In Galatians 5, when Paul lists the works of the flesh, many English translations use the word sorcery. Other translations render that same word witchcraft.

If manipulation lies at the heart of what Scripture calls witchcraft, then maybe we’re dealing with something much bigger than strange rituals or occult practices.

Maybe we’re looking at one of the oldest strategies in history, now dressed in modern clothes.

There has always been a war for the human mind.

You see it in Genesis.

The serpent didn’t overpower Eve.

He influenced the way she saw.

He questioned what God had said. He reframed what God meant. He appealed to what she desired. By the time she reached for the fruit, the battle had already been won in her perception.

That strategy hasn’t changed.

Only the technology has.

The war has never really been over your behavior. It’s always been over your mind. Because once your perception changes, your decisions usually follow.

Today our attention is constantly being competed for. Not every voice is malicious, but every voice is shaping something. Every headline, every notification, every recommendation, every algorithm is trying to influence what we think is important, urgent, desirable, or true.

These days, I find myself praying differently.

Instead of simply praying, “Lord, protect me,” I find myself praying a different prayer.

“Lord, help me see.”

Because the answer isn’t suspicion. It’s discernment.

Suspicion trains you to look for what’s wrong.

Discernment trains you to recognize what’s true.

Those aren’t the same thing.

One leaves you anxious.

The other leaves you anchored.

The very next morning, I walked into my backyard and noticed something unusual.

A baby owl was sitting in broad daylight.

It wasn’t hunting. It wasn’t hiding. It simply sat there looking around, taking everything in.

Later I learned that young owls leave the nest before they’re fully mature. Their parents remain nearby while they learn to navigate the world they’ll eventually live in on their own.

I don’t believe every unusual moment carries some hidden spiritual meaning.

But I do believe there are moments when creation quietly confirms something God has already been saying.

That’s what this felt like.

The Lord has been impressing on me that one of the greatest needs of our generation is discernment.

Not more information.

Not louder opinions.

Not greater suspicion.

Discernment.

Jesus said, “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light.”

He understood that the condition of our perception shapes the condition of our lives.

That’s why time in God’s presence matters so much.

His Word recalibrates the way we think.

His Spirit sharpens our discernment.

Prayer isn’t an escape from reality.

It is where reality becomes clear.

As deception becomes more sophisticated, discernment has to become more mature.

Discernment is not the ability to recognize everything that’s wrong.

It’s the ability to become so familiar with what’s true that everything false becomes easier to recognize.

Don’t spend your life trying to become an expert on deception.

Become intimately acquainted with truth.

Counterfeit experts don’t study every fake bill.

They study the authentic one until every counterfeit becomes obvious.

The Holy Spirit wants to do the same thing in us.

He wants to make us so familiar with the voice of God that manipulation immediately feels foreign.

That kind of discernment doesn’t happen overnight.

It grows in the presence of God.

So spend time with Him.

Open His Word.

Quiet the competing voices.

Learn His voice until it becomes the loudest one in your life.

There has always been a war for your mind.

So guard it well.

Not by withdrawing from the world, but by staying close to the One who is Truth.

If You Lose Your Joy, Find Your Purpose

Touré Roberts — Tue, 21 Jul 2026 13:36:13 GMT

If You Lose Your Joy, Find Your Purpose

One of the greatest discoveries I’ve made in my own life is that joy and purpose are deeply connected. In fact, I would go as far as to say that if you ever lose your joy, don’t start by chasing happiness. Instead, find your purpose. More often than not, you’ll rediscover your joy there.

I believe this is true because joy is one of the clearest indicators of alignment. When our lives are aligned with the way God designed us to live, something begins to happen beneath the surface. We experience a sense of clarity that isn’t dependent on our circumstances. We become anchored. Our lives gain direction, and with that direction comes strength.

This principle is woven throughout creation itself. A tree does not bear fruit because it exerts more effort than every other tree. It bears fruit because it is planted where it can flourish. Its roots draw nourishment from healthy soil, it receives the light it was created to receive, and because it is properly positioned, it naturally produces what it was designed to produce.

The same is true of us.

When we are rooted in God’s purpose, our souls become healthy. We stop measuring our lives merely by what is happening around us and begin living from what God is doing within us. Fruitfulness becomes the byproduct of alignment rather than the result of striving.

This doesn’t mean purpose removes hardship. In many ways, purpose invites responsibility, opposition, and sacrifice. Yet purpose has an incredible ability to place suffering into its proper perspective because it reminds us that our lives are connected to something larger than our present circumstances.

The Apostle Paul illustrates this beautifully in Acts 20. After recounting the afflictions, uncertainty, and persecution that awaited him, he makes an extraordinary statement: “None of these things move me, nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy.”

That verse has challenged me for years because Paul doesn’t deny the reality of difficulty. He simply refuses to allow difficulty to become the defining reality of his life. His assignment was greater than his adversity. His purpose carried more weight than his problems. Because he remained anchored in what God had called him to do, he possessed a joy that circumstances could not steal.

I don’t believe it is accidental that Scripture also tells us, “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” Joy is not simply an emotion that visits us when life is easy. It becomes a source of spiritual strength that enables us to endure seasons we otherwise would not survive.

This reveals a powerful progression. Purpose produces joy. Joy produces strength. Strength gives us the endurance to remain faithful, and faithful endurance eventually produces fruit that glorifies God and blesses others.

Perhaps that’s why so many people feel exhausted today. It isn’t always because they’re working too hard. Sometimes it’s because they’re expending tremendous energy outside of their God-given assignment. Misalignment is exhausting. We can be incredibly busy while simultaneously becoming spiritually depleted because activity can never replace purpose.

Maybe the question isn’t, “How do I get my joy back?” Maybe the better question is, “Where has God called me to invest my life?” When that answer becomes clear, joy often begins to return—not because every problem disappears, but because purpose gives us something greater than our problems to live for.

If you’ve found yourself discouraged or weary, don’t merely seek relief from your circumstances. Return to the place of alignment. Revisit what God has entrusted to you. Remember the assignment He placed on your life before fear, disappointment, comparison, or distraction clouded your vision.

I have found that when purpose becomes clear again, joy has a way of returning. And when joy returns, strength is never far behind.

The world often tells us that joy is found by pursuing comfort. Scripture paints a different picture. Lasting joy is found by embracing purpose. It is discovered in the quiet confidence of knowing that your life is aligned with the One who designed it.

And there is no greater place to live than there.

Bystanders and Builders

Touré Roberts — Thu, 02 Jul 2026 14:32:52 GMT

The attention economy has quietly created a generation of spectators.

Never in history have we had such unrestricted access to the lives, accomplishments, opinions, milestones, victories, vacations, businesses, ministries, relationships, and dreams of other people. Every swipe invites us into another person’s story.

The danger isn’t that we see what others are building. The danger is that we spend so much time observing their lives that we neglect building our own.

There is a subtle shift that happens when observation exceeds participation.

You begin as an admirer.

Then you become an audience.

Eventually, without realizing it, you become a bystander.

A bystander doesn’t necessarily lack talent. A bystander doesn’t lack intelligence or even desire. A bystander has simply become so absorbed in what everyone else is creating that they’ve forgotten they were created to create.

From the very beginning, humanity was commissioned to build.

God’s first mandate wasn’t merely to exist. It was to be fruitful and multiply. To cultivate. To steward. To create. To expand. To build.

Every one of us carries the imprint of a Creator, which means every one of us has been given the capacity to create something that did not exist before.

Now, not everyone is called to build the same thing, but everyone is called to build something.

The attention economy works against that calling because it rewards consumption more than contribution. It convinces us that staying informed is the same as making progress but it isn’t. Watching builders is not the same as becoming one.

One of the greatest thieves of purpose is comparison. We scroll through someone’s finished product while standing inside our unfinished process. We compare their harvest to our seed and their chapter twenty to our chapter one. Their highlight reel to our ordinary Tuesday.

But what we often fail to see are the years of obscurity that preceded the recognition. The mornings no one applauded. The failures no one posted. The repetitions that looked insignificant at the time.

Here’s the truth: Every meaningful life is built one decision, one discipline, one courageous step at a time and builders understand this. Bystanders rarely do.

The more we compare ourselves to someone else’s destination, the more impossible our own journey begins to feel and then something tragic happens. We stop trying.

Not because we lack potential but because we fear that our beginning won’t look like someone else’s middle and so we return to watching.

We convince ourselves we’re being inspired, when in reality we’ve become immobilized.

Here me clearly: There’s an important difference between motivation and mesmerization.

Motivation should produce movement. Mesmerization produces paralysis.

Motivation says, “If they can build something meaningful, maybe I can too.”

Mesmerization says, “Look how far ahead they are. I’ll never get there.”

One leads to action. The other leads to obsession.

Builders aren’t people who never feel intimidated. They’re just people who refuse to let intimidation become their identity.

Every builder makes three decisions.

First, they decide to believe they can build.

Before anything changes around them, something changes within them. They stop waiting for permission and begin trusting that the same God who gave them purpose also gave them the capacity to pursue it.

Second, they decide they are worthy of the responsibility, the impact, and even the success that building can produce.

Many people sabotage themselves long before circumstances ever do because they secretly believe the life they desire belongs to someone else.

It doesn’t.

If God entrusted you with a vision, He also intends for you to steward it.

Finally, builders start where they are.

Not where they wish they were.

Not where someone else started.

Not where conditions are perfect.

Builders understand that momentum is born from movement, not perfection.

The first brick rarely looks impressive. Neither does the second.

But eventually walls rise. Rooms take shape and lives change.

The world doesn’t need more spectators. It needs more people who are willing to answer the call to build.

Perhaps the greatest question we should ask ourselves isn’t, “Who am I watching?”

It’s, “What am I building?”

At the end of our lives, we won’t be remembered for the people we admired. We’ll be remembered for what we had the courage to create with the life God entrusted to us.

Seven Prayers Every Parent Should Pray Over the Next Generation

Touré Roberts — Sun, 21 Jun 2026 13:20:59 GMT

This Sunday, during our Father’s Day service, I took the time to pray for the young people in our church.

Not because they are in trouble.

Not because I believe they are somehow worse than previous generations.

But because every generation faces its own battles, its own pressures, and its own opportunities.

As a father, I have a daily prayer that I pray over my children. It has evolved over the years, but at its core it asks God to do something deeper than simply protect them. It asks Him to form them.

Many of us spend our time praying for outcomes.

Good grades.
Good friends.
Good decisions.
Good opportunities.

Those things matter.

But beneath every outcome is a person. And if God shapes the person, the outcomes will follow.

Here are seven things I believe every parent, grandparent, mentor, pastor, and leader should pray over the next generation.

1. Pray That They Would Love God for Themselves

The greatest thing we can desire for our children is not success. It is relationship with God.

Pray that their faith would not be borrowed from their parents, inherited from a church, or sustained by culture. Pray that it becomes their own.

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.”

2. Pray for Wisdom and Discernment

We live in a world overflowing with information but starving for wisdom.

Our children do not merely need knowledge. They need discernment. They need the ability to distinguish truth from deception, conviction from pressure, and wisdom from impulse.

Pray that they learn to seek God before making decisions and trust His direction above their own understanding.

3. Pray for God’s Protection

Every parent knows what it feels like to want to shield their children from harm.

While we cannot be with them everywhere, God can.

Pray that His hand would rest upon them. Pray for protection physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Pray that He would order their steps and preserve them from dangers seen and unseen.

4. Pray for Freedom From Destructive Influences

Every generation battles something.

Our young people face anxiety, insecurity, confusion, addiction, comparison, hopelessness, unhealthy ideologies, and endless pressure to conform.

Pray that they would experience genuine freedom in Christ and develop the strength to resist anything that seeks to pull them away from God’s best for their lives.

5. Pray That the Holy Spirit Would Become Their Guide

One of the greatest gifts God gives us is His Spirit.

Pray that our young people become familiar with His voice.

Pray that they develop spiritual sensitivity, conviction, discernment, and courage. The goal is not merely that they avoid wrong. The goal is that they learn to follow God.

6. Pray That They Discover Their Purpose

Every child carries gifts, potential, and divine purpose.

Pray that they discover why they were created.

Pray that they learn to steward their gifts and use their lives in service to God and others. There is tremendous confidence that comes when someone understands who they are and what they were made to do.

7. Pray for the Adults Assigned to Their Lives

Children are shaped not only by what they are taught but by who teaches them.

Pray for parents.
Pray for teachers.
Pray for coaches.
Pray for pastors.
Pray for mentors.
Pray for every adult entrusted with influence.

Ask God to give us wisdom, integrity, discernment, and the ability to see what is happening beneath the surface.

The next generation does not simply need better information. They need healthy examples.

A Final Prayer

Father, we lift this generation before You.

Protect them.
Guide them.
Strengthen them.
Heal them.
Deliver them.
Call them.
Use them.

May they walk in wisdom.
May they walk in godliness.
May they walk in purpose.
May they walk in courage.

May they know Your voice and follow Your ways.

And may we, as parents, leaders, and mentors, faithfully steward the responsibility of helping them become everything You created them to be.

In Jesus’ name.

Amen.

A Father’s Prayer for the Young People in Our Community

Touré Roberts — Wed, 17 Jun 2026 15:21:54 GMT

Over the last several days, a clip from a prayer moment at our church has generated quite a bit of conversation.

I’ve seen the responses. Some encouraging. Some critical. Some thoughtful. Some based on misunderstandings of what I was attempting to communicate.

I’ve already provided a brief clarification, and I don’t intend to revisit that discussion here.

Instead, I want to talk about what has been on my heart.

Young people.

The loss of one young life and the imprisonment of another has weighed heavily on me. Not simply because of the details of a particular case, but because of what it reveals about how quickly a moment can alter the trajectory of a life.

As many people have pointed out, there are important conversations happening around justice, fairness, accountability, race, violence, self-defense, and the legal system. Those conversations matter, and many thoughtful people are engaging them from different perspectives.

But while those conversations continue, I find myself asking a different question:

What can we do right now to help our young people navigate conflict before it reaches a point of no return?

As a father, that question matters to me.

As a pastor, that question matters to me. And as someone who survived gun violence as a teenager, that question matters to me.

I know firsthand how quickly life can change. I know how little time can exist between a decision and a consequence.

I know how fragile the space can be between conflict and tragedy.

That is why my heart continues to return to the same things:

Self-control.

Emotional regulation.

Conflict resolution.

De-escalation.

Not because those things solve every problem. Not because they eliminate every injustice. Not because they guarantee a particular outcome. But because they give our children more options.

Years ago, when my sons were teenagers, I sat them down and talked to them about what to do if they were ever pulled over by police.

That conversation was not about whether every law enforcement officer acts appropriately. It was not about whether the justice system is always fair. Those are separate conversations.

That conversation was about wisdom. It was about survival. It was about giving my sons the best chance to make it home safely.

The principle is the same.

Preparing someone to navigate a difficult situation is not the same as assigning blame for the situation.

Teaching wisdom is not the same as excusing injustice.

Giving practical tools is not the same as ignoring larger issues. Sometimes it is simply an act of love.

As Father’s Day approaches, I have found myself thinking about fathers, mothers, grandparents, mentors, teachers, coaches, pastors, and every adult who carries a burden for the next generation.

I think most of us want the same thing.

We want our children to live.

We want them to thrive.

We want them to have futures full of possibility.

And we want them to possess the wisdom, self-control, and emotional strength necessary to navigate an increasingly complicated world.

This weekend at The Potter’s House, during our 9:00 AM Father’s Day service, I will be taking time to pray specifically for young people.

I will be praying for their safety.

I will be praying for their emotional health.

I will be praying for wisdom, discernment, self-control, and healthy decision-making.

I will be praying for parents who carry the daily weight of raising children in challenging times.

And I will be praying that God would surround our young people with the kind of community, guidance, and support that helps them flourish.

Whether you agree with every word I’ve said recently or not, I hope you’ll join me in praying for the next generation. Because regardless of where we stand on many of today’s debates, surely we can agree on this:

Our young people are worth fighting for.

And they are certainly worth praying for.

This Means War

Touré Roberts — Sun, 14 Jun 2026 15:01:20 GMT

Most people think war begins the moment they notice it. A diagnosis arrives. A marriage starts struggling. Temptation appears. Anxiety shows up. Finances collapse. And that’s when we say it: “This means war.”

The problem is by the time we say it, the war has already begun.

On December 7, 1941, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. The United States declared war afterward, but that declaration didn’t create the conflict. It simply acknowledged a reality that was already underway. The bombs were already falling. The ships were already burning. The first strike had already happened. America wasn’t starting a war. America was waking up to one.

I wonder how many of us have made the same mistake spiritually. We assume warfare begins when we recognize it, but it doesn’t. Recognition is often the last thing to arrive.

So what if warfare isn’t an event? What if it’s the environment? What if “this means war” isn’t a reaction to something that happened, but a realization about the world we’ve been living in all along?

Life itself means war. Not because God has abandoned us. Not because we should walk around fearful. Not because there’s a demon behind every inconvenience. But because wherever God’s will encounters resistance, warfare is present, whether we notice it or not.

It Started in a Garden

The first war was never fought between nations. It was fought against God’s order, and it started with a question. In the Garden, the serpent asked, “Did God really say?” That question has echoed through every generation since. That was warfare. Adam and Eve didn’t know they were standing in the middle of a battle, but they were.

And every conflict since has been an echo of that original resistance. Why do marriages require so much work? Why do addictions exist? Why does injustice persist? Why do nations fight? Why does temptation remain so real? Why can we know the right thing and still feel drawn toward the wrong thing?

Conflict is everywhere because humanity lives in contested territory. The Promised Land was contested. The wilderness was contested. The ministry of Jesus unfolded in contested territory. The early church advanced through contested territory. No one arrives on neutral ground. Not even you.

Awareness, Not Anxiety

Here’s what I want you to hear: this reality should not make you paranoid. It should make you prepared.

Fear says the enemy is everywhere. Faith says God has equipped me for wherever the enemy is. Fear makes you anxious. Faith makes you aware. The goal isn’t spiritual paranoia, it’s spiritual insight.

Sometimes resistance comes from spiritual forces. Sometimes it comes through culture. Sometimes through systems. Sometimes it’s just our own flesh getting in the way. But all of it shares the same objective: opposition to the purposes of God.

The Good News in the Middle of a War

And this is where the Gospel becomes such good news.

The good news isn’t that there is no war. The good news is that God has never lost one.

The good news isn’t that resistance doesn’t exist. The good news is that resistance has never stopped God’s purposes.

The good news isn’t that the Kingdom avoids conflict. The good news is that the Kingdom advances through conflict.

Jesus never promised us a conflict-free world. He promised a victorious Kingdom advancing through a conflicted one. That’s why Scripture tells us Christ disarmed principalities and powers and made a public spectacle of them. That’s why He led captivity captive. Our confidence was never meant to rest in the absence of resistance, but in the certainty of His victory.

Before there was a serpent, there was a Savior. Before there was a fall, there was a plan. Before there was a problem, there was provision. And before there was ever a battle in your life, there was already a King who had won.

So What Do We Do With This?

This means war. But it also means victory.

Our objective isn’t to become obsessed with the battle. It’s to remain surrendered to the King. At the end of the day, warfare loses its power when we hear and obey the Master. Your victory is found in alignment with God’s will. Your strength is found in surrender. Your authority is found in obedience.

This means war. But it also means the outcome has already been settled.

Over the next few weeks, we’re going to learn what it looks like to live like people who know that.

Next week: The War of Words.

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The battle you don’t recognize is the one you lose.

Touré Roberts — Fri, 12 Jun 2026 14:48:55 GMT

For much of my ministry, the majority of the focus has been on purpose. Identity. Walking the Kingdom life God has designed for us. And those conversations are very important.

But I’ve felt a growing conviction to take us deeper. There’s a part of the Christian life I want to talk more about. The reality of spiritual warfare.

Not in a way that makes you fearful. Not in a way that makes you obsessed with darkness.

In a way that makes you aware.

Because one of the most dangerous things a believer can do is mistake a spiritual battle for a natural problem.

The Bible doesn’t describe this life as a playground. It describes it as a battlefield.

Jesus faced opposition.

The disciples faced opposition.

The early church faced opposition.

And somewhere along the way, we got taught to expect purpose without resistance. Calling without conflict. Destiny without a fight.

Scripture never promised that.

I’ve spent the last several weeks praying. Reflecting. Listening. And I keep arriving at the same place.

We are in a war.

The question isn’t whether the battle is real.

The question is whether you can see it.

Because if we’re going to protect our families, steward our assignments, and walk in everything God has for us, we cannot afford to be unaware of what’s actually happening around us.

This Sunday, July 14th, at The Potter’s House of Dallas, I’m starting a new series called “This Means War!”

We’re going to dig into what Scripture really teaches about spiritual authority. Discernment. Healing. Deliverance. And what it looks like to stand firm when everything is pushing back.

Not from a place of fear or hype but from truth and revelation.

We’re already in it. So we might as well win it.

See you Sunday.

Everyone Has Value. Not Everyone Becomes Valuable.

Touré Roberts — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 14:58:31 GMT

Every human being has immense value. Not as a motivational slogan. As a theological fact. To be created in the image of God means you are priceless, irreplaceable, and significant before you’ve done a single thing to earn it.

But here’s what I want you to sit with today: there is a difference between having value and being valuable.

One is given. The other is cultivated.

In Matthew 25, Jesus tells a parable about three people who were each entrusted with something by their master before he left on a journey. Same scenario, same starting point, but vastly different outcomes. Two of them took what they were given and went to work. They served. They multiplied. They increased. And when the master returned, he called them good and faithful, and rewarded them accordingly.

The third buried his.

He didn’t lose it. He didn’t spend it recklessly. He simply hid it. Did nothing with it. And when the master returned, he was called unprofitable.

That word unprofitable is actually the key to this whole story. Because if God disapproves of the unprofitable, it means God desires the profitable. He’s not indifferent to what we do with what He gives us. He is looking for a return, not for His sake, but for ours, and for the sake of the world He’s trying to reach.

To be valuable to God is to make yourself useful to His purposes.

It was said of David in Acts 13:36 that he “served his own generation by the will of God”. Not every generation. His generation. His moment. His context. And in 2 Chronicles 16:9, the scripture tells us that the eyes of the Lord roam throughout the whole earth, looking to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose hearts are loyal to Him.

Read that again: God is actively looking for people He can pour his favor on and through.

I’ve come to believe that God does have favorites, not inherent favorites, not favorites based on perfection, but He certainly favors those who make themselves available to His agenda. Those who say, whatever You’re doing in the earth, I want to be part of it. When you make yourself that kind of person, you stop chasing the blessing and become someone the blessing is chasing.

I say it this way: You don’t ever have to worry about God blessing your business, if you make it your business to do what He’s blessing.

David wasn’t a perfect man. He failed. He made mistakes that cost him dearly. But the crown endured through his generations, the covenantal blessings flowed to his children and his children’s children, because of one defining characteristic: he was a man after God’s own heart. Not just after God’s affection. After the heart of God. After what God cares about. After what God is doing.

That’s the invitation today.

Don’t just be someone who has value. Be valuable. Be someone God can count on to show up, to serve, to multiply what He’s placed in your hands. And as you do, especially in uncertain times, God will make things go well for you.

Not because you were perfect. But because you were purposeful.

A Sabbatical Confession

Touré Roberts — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 21:01:55 GMT

I write this to you from the couch, staring out at an endless sea, laptop propped on my thighs in a quiet room. I wanted to unpack for you what God has been unpacking for me during a short sabbatical that I had the sensitivity to take before next week arrives. The centerpiece of next week being my wife’s surgery, and the road to recovery that follows, which will call for my full presence and support. Support I am honored and genuinely happy to give.

I came to a place here in Southern California where God never fails to meet me. A place I return to when I don’t have much time but I need a real, genuine touch from my heavenly Father. Normally when I come here I arrive with a list. Questions that in times past have brought me into alignment and sent me home with clarity. Questions like: What am I called to do? What am I called to build? What sacrifices must I make? What mentor or resource should I avail myself to? What will life look like once I get there?

Those have been my go-tos for years. But when I pulled out that list this time, something stopped me. I realized quickly that those were not the right questions for the season I was in. So I put the list down. I paused. I waited. I let the real question, the one my soul and my season actually needed, rise to the surface on its own.

And within minutes, it did.

The question that rose in my heart, undeniably induced by the Lord, was not about vision or strategy or sacrifice. It was far more personal than that.

How are you? And where are you?

Something about those two questions hit me at a depth I wasn’t prepared for. I realized afresh that God was more concerned with how I’m doing than He was with what I’m doing. I never felt more loved. More seen. More genuinely cared for. Here I was, showing up ready to get another assignment, wanting to make certain I was making my Father proud, and all my Father wanted to know was whether I was OK.

That was the first thing I learned. God wants for me far more than He wants from me.

That was a game changer.

So I began to answer Him honestly.

I wrote down whatever came without filtering it, without softening it, without making it sound better than it was.

I am tired. I am unsettled. I am uncertain. I am unclear. I am exhausted. I am empty.

It was brutal. And it was true. But because I felt my Father’s love in that moment, I also felt safe enough to say it. Safe enough to confess, without shame, that I was not OK. And it was clear that this was not the posture, nor the place, He wanted me to be in.

But I didn’t stop there. Because that wasn’t the whole truth either. I kept writing.

I am strong. I am convinced of God’s loving kindness and His commitment to me. And I am willing to do the work for restoration.

Both lists were real. And I think a lot of you are holding both right now. The weariness is real and the faith is real, and sometimes they exist in the same body at the same time. That’s not a contradiction. That’s just honesty.

Then I answered the second question. Where are you?

Two things surfaced immediately. One: I am beyond capacity. And the other: I am on the brink of great opportunity.

Both of those were also true.

The second thing I learned came to me quietly, about a day and a half in.

I noticed I no longer felt exhausted. I felt less tired. I didn’t have full clarity yet, but I was more clear than when I arrived. I wasn’t fully settled, but I was less unsettled than before. Something had shifted. And when I stopped to ask myself what changed, the answer was almost embarrassingly simple.

Nothing changed. Except that I rested.

There was no deep theological revelation. No profound instruction about what was next. No prolific new insight downloaded from heaven. I simply stopped. And in the stopping, something that felt like a complex, multi-layered problem began to resolve itself.

I realized that sometimes things are not as complicated as we’ve made them. The solution to what felt like a complicated misalignment was not some cocktail of strategies and adjustments and to-dos. It was one thing. Rest.

And the more I sat with that, the more I understood why. The reason I had felt unclear, ungrounded, unsettled, and empty was not because something was missing from the outside. It was because I had run past empty on the inside. I didn’t need more poured in. I needed to stop the leak. And rest is how you stop the leak.

Rest has a dynamic in it that produces clarity. That produces peace. That restores groundedness. Because groundedness is connected to clarity, and clarity is connected to capacity, and the more tired you become, the less clearly you see. Tiredness distorts everything. It makes solvable problems look insurmountable. It makes a season look like a sentence.

Rest oftentimes is a one stop shop. Divine rest.

When I gave rest to my mind, my body, my soul, and my spirit, I felt my tank filling. My clarity returned. My confidence returned. My vision came back into focus. And I understood something I had known theologically but was now experiencing personally: when God tells us to rest, He is not being dogmatic. He is being strategic. Rest is not a pause from the work. Rest is part of the work. It is God’s holistic strategy for getting us back on point.

As I write this I have just one more day here. And I am genuinely shocked at the difference just a day or two of real rest can make.

I wanted to share this with you because I suspect some of you are where I was when I arrived. Running. Producing. Believing. And quietly unraveling at the same time. And maybe what you need is not a new strategy or a deeper revelation. Maybe what you need is what I needed.

A real stop. A genuine rest. A moment to let God ask you the question He’s been waiting to ask.

So before I close, I’ll ask it on His behalf.

Not how’s the work. Not how’s the vision.

How are you? And where are you?

Take those questions seriously. Your answers matter, to God, and to everyone you are called to serve.

— PT

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21 Days Later. Here's What Just Happened.

Touré Roberts — Sun, 31 May 2026 13:05:52 GMT

Just finding this? This is the final post in a 21-day fast my community walked through together. The invitation is still open for anyone. Start today, walk it for 21 days, and watch what God does.

Day 21. We made it.

Twenty-one days ago, we said yes. We did not know yet what God would do. Now we do. Each of us has our own testimony. Clarity received. Wisdom deposited. Strength built. Faith expanded.

Tonight, we break this fast. And we break it different than we started it.

The wineskin is no longer what it was. The container has been stretched. There is room in you now for new wine. There is capacity in you now for the new thing God has been wanting to pour. What He has begun, He will complete.

I want to thank you. Some of you started this with me on Day 1. Some of you joined late. Some of you fell off and got back on, more than once. All of it counts. Every day you said yes, even after a day you said no, counts.

The fast closes tonight. The assignment begins tomorrow.

If you are reading this for the first time and you missed the 21 days with us, do not let that stop you. Start your own 21 days, today. The God who met us in this fast will meet you in yours.

Let’s go.

SCRIPTURE FOR TODAY

“He has done it!” — Psalm 22:31

A PRAYER TO BEGIN FROM

Father, we thank You. For 21 days. For the clarity You gave. For the wisdom You poured in. For the strength You built. For the faith You expanded. We did not come out the way we went in. What You have begun, You will complete. Send us into the field ready. Glory to Your name. Amen.

Share your testimony in the comments. What did God do in you over these 21 days?

— Touré

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You're About to Cross Into New Territory

Touré Roberts — Sat, 30 May 2026 12:01:16 GMT

Just finding this? I’m on Day 20 of a 21-day fast with my community. We’re fasting for clarity, wisdom, strength, and faith. If you’re discovering this late, do not let that stop you. Begin today and walk your own 21 days.

Israel stood at the edge of the Jordan after years of wilderness. The instruction was simple and unforgettable. You have not passed this way before.

The territory ahead of you is not the territory behind you. The version of you that started this fast is not the version of you that finishes it.

Tomorrow, this season closes. Use today to consolidate. Look back over the last nineteen days. What did God say? What did He shift? What did He build?

Write it down. The journal entry from this day is going to matter to you years from now.

You are about to walk into ground you have not walked before. You will need to remember what He told you on the journey. The temptation, once you cross over, will be to forget that you ever heard Him in the first place. Do not let the new ground erase the wilderness lessons. Carry every word with you.

SCRIPTURE FOR TODAY

“You have not passed this way before.” — Joshua 3:4

A PRAYER TO BEGIN FROM

Lord, I am on the edge of new territory. Help me consolidate what You have done. Help me carry every word You have spoken into the ground I have not yet walked. Amen.

What is the one thing you want to remember from these 21 days?

— Touré

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What's Waiting for You on the Other Side

Touré Roberts — Fri, 29 May 2026 12:01:45 GMT

Just finding this? I’m on Day 19 of a 21-day fast with my community. We’re fasting for clarity, wisdom, strength, and faith. If you’re discovering this late, do not let that stop you. Begin today and walk your own 21 days.

The fast was never the destination.

The fast prepared you for what comes next. Jesus came out of His wilderness fast and stepped into the public ministry that would reshape human history. Yours may not look exactly like His, but the principle is the same. The season of withdrawal is for the sake of the season of release.

As you finish these final days, begin asking God a different question. Not just what did You show me, but what am I being prepared for?

What is the field on the other side of this fast that requires the version of you He is building right now? What assignment was your fasted self being shaped to carry?

The new wine is not for storage. The new wine is for pouring. The wineskin was stretched so that something could move through you to others. Start praying with your hands open to receive what God is anointing you for. Start asking what He is going to do with you, not just in you.

SCRIPTURE FOR TODAY

“At once Jesus was full of joy through the Holy Spirit.” — Luke 10:21

A PRAYER TO BEGIN FROM

Father, I receive that this fast was preparation. Show me the field. Show me the assignment. Make me ready, not just rested. Amen.

What field do you sense He is preparing you for?

— Touré