A few weeks ago, Amanda and I took our first real trip together since having kids. Texas. Perfect weather. No schedules. No interruptions from the boys. Just us — talking, laughing, and enjoying our time away. 

At one point in the trip, we were cruising down a San Antonio highway on our way to a boot store when Amanda suddenly yelled, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

I snapped out of a daze… and realized I had literally stopped driving. In the middle of the highway.

Why? Because I was distracted — by the conversation, by the scenery… and honestly, by how pretty she looked with the Texas sun hitting her.

We laughed later, but it shook me. One moment of distraction could’ve ruined everything.

And here’s the truth: it doesn’t take much to drift off course.

The #1 cause of car accidents isn’t speeding, drunk driving, or reckless drivers.

It’s distraction. A glance at your phone. A look back at the kids. One moment — and suddenly you’re in a ditch.

Spiritually, it works the same way.

The enemy rarely shows up with force, fangs, and fire. He shows up crafty — like the serpent in Genesis 3. Not powerful. Not dramatic. Just subtle enough to shift your eyes a few inches off God.

“Did God really say…?”

“Don’t you deserve this?”

“Is He holding out on you?”

Eve didn’t fall because she was evil.

She fell because she was distracted.

And before we judge her too harshly… isn’t that the story of every downfall?

David on a rooftop.

Peter looking at waves.

Martha in the kitchen.

Judas counting coins.

Most people don’t plan to ruin their marriage, blow up their integrity, or wander away from faith — they just get distracted long enough for their heart to follow their eyes.

The fall of mankind didn’t start with rebellion.

It started with distraction.

But here’s the good news: what distraction breaks, devotion restores.

Scripture says, “I keep my eyes always on the Lord” (Psalm 16:8).

Victory starts where your focus lands.

So this week, what if you…

• reached for your Bible before your phone?

• created five minutes of silence before you created more noise?

• looked at Jesus instead of everything else pulling at you?

Because the enemy doesn’t need to destroy you — he just needs to distract you.

And the way back is simple:

Lift your eyes. Refocus. Recenter. Jesus is better.

If there was a Hall of Fame for people who’ve impacted my life, my grandfather—known simply as “Pop”—would be a first-ballot inductee.

Many people have shaped who I am, but no one quite like Pop.  Pop didn’t chase attention or applause. But if faithfulness had a face, it would look a lot like his.

When I think about Pop’s life, his “faithful resume” says it all:

• Married for 65 years.

In a world where commitment is fragile, he and my grandmother built a marriage that endured through all that life brings. 

• Worked at Armstrong for 42 years.

Forty-two years at the same company—showing up early, working hard, and doing his best without complaint. Loyalty like that is rare now, but to Pop, it was simply what you did.

• Served at Fellowship Church for 48 years.

Nearly half a century of faithful service. He wasn’t the one on stage; he was the one fixing things behind the scenes, unlocking doors, mowing grass, and making sure everything worked. He was the kind of man churches are built on—the faithful few who do the work no one sees.

As a kid, I watched Pop serve in ways that went unnoticed by almost everyone.

He’d spend hours collecting and crushing aluminum cans, hauling them to the scrap yard to earn a few dollars—not for himself, but to send to missionaries.

When the church alarm went off in the middle of the night, Pop was the first to grab his keys and head out the door.

If something broke, he fixed it. If someone needed help, he showed up. He didn’t wait to be asked or thanked—he just did what needed to be done.

He believed faithfulness wasn’t about being seen; it was about being steady.

And that’s what left such a lasting impact on me. Pop didn’t just talk about serving God—he lived it. Quietly. Consistently. Faithfully.

That kind of faithfulness feels rare today.

We live in a world that celebrates convenience and comfort. If something doesn’t go our way, we quit. If something gets hard, we walk away.

The average person changes jobs every 2 to 3 years now—far different from Pop’s generation, where sticking it out was the norm. Relationships, careers, even church involvement—so many things that once lasted a lifetime now feel temporary.

We’ve become a “no deal” culture: “If I don’t get my way, I’m done.”

But true faithfulness isn’t built in comfort; it’s built in commitment. It shows up when it’s hard. It stays when others leave. It does what’s right even when no one’s clapping.

Faithfulness isn’t just a nice quality—it’s a biblical calling.

When Jesus told the parable of the talents in Matthew 25, the master didn’t say, “Well done, good and productive servant.” He didn’t say “successful” or “talented.”

He said, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

That word—faithful—is what God values most. He doesn’t measure us by what we accomplish, but by how we stay committed.

Faithfulness matters to God because it reflects His character. Lamentations 3:23 says, “Great is Your faithfulness.”

He is faithful to us—and He calls us to live the same way toward Him and others.

Faithfulness doesn’t always make headlines—it shows up in everyday choices.

It’s the parent who keeps showing up for their kids.

The teacher who pours into students year after year.

The spouse who stays steady through every storm.

The believer who keeps trusting when life doesn’t make sense.

Faithfulness is often small and unseen—but that’s where it’s most powerful.

Jesus said, “Whoever is faithful in little will also be faithful in much.”

Everyone wants the “much,” but God starts with the “little.” The small, consistent acts that no one else notices.

When I think about Pop’s life, I realize his legacy wasn’t built by big moments—it was built by countless small ones.

Every can he collected, every repair he made, every late-night trip to the church—it all added up to something eternal.

He taught me that faithfulness isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being present. It’s about showing up, doing your best, and trusting that God uses steady hearts to make the biggest impact.

Pop never needed recognition, but his faithfulness preached louder than words ever could.

Because when you live faithfully, your influence doesn’t fade when your life ends—it continues through every person you touched.

One of the most comforting truths about faithfulness is this: God sees it all.

Every unseen act of service.

Every quiet prayer.

Every small choice to keep going when it would be easier to stop.

Even when the world overlooks it, God never does.

Galatians 6:9 reminds us, “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we shall reap, if we do not give up.”

Pop may never have received a medal or plaque for what he did—but I have no doubt he’s received something far greater: those beautiful words every believer longs to hear—

“Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Pop’s life challenged me—and maybe it challenges you too.

Faithfulness isn’t glamorous, but it’s powerful. It doesn’t always draw attention, but it always draws God’s approval.

The world will remember the successful for a season, but heaven remembers the faithful forever.

So wherever God has placed you—at home, at work, at church—be faithful there. Keep showing up. Keep serving. Keep trusting.

Because success fades. Recognition fades. But faithfulness endures.

And one day, when the final chapter is written, may we—like Pop—stand before our Savior and hear the words that echo louder than any applause:

“Well done, good and faithful servant.”