The Questions Beneath the Cross

The Honest Heart Examination Most Men Avoid

What if the greatest obstacle to your spiritual growth isn't something outside of you? What if it isn't your circumstances, your past, the culture, or even the enemy? What if it's something you're still holding onto?

In this powerful follow-up to Episode 48, The Beautiful Brutality of the Cross, Mike Judd takes listeners beyond the historical reality of the cross and into its personal application. Because the cross was never meant to be admired from a distance—it was meant to transform us. At the end of Episode 48, six challenging questions were posed. In this episode, we slow down and allow those questions to become mirrors—revealing the places where God may still be calling us to deeper surrender.

Together we'll examine:
•What part of me still refuses surrender?
•Where am I demanding control?
•Where am I preserving image instead of pursuing transformation?
•Where has pride become my shield?
•Where am I choosing comfort over obedience?
•Where am I trying to experience resurrection life without first dying to self?

Through biblical teaching, personal reflection, and honest testimony, you'll discover how easily self-protection can disguise itself as wisdom, responsibility, strength, or self-preservation—and how God lovingly invites us to lay those things down and trust Him completely.

This episode is not about condemnation. It's about freedom. Because what God reveals, He can heal. What He exposes, He can transform. And what we surrender, He can redeem. If you've ever struggled with control, fear, pride, hidden battles, delayed obedience, or the desire to appear stronger than you really are, this episode will challenge you to move beyond surface-level Christianity and into the kind of transformation that only happens when honesty meets the grace of God.

Key Scriptures:
•Luke 9:23
•Psalm 139:23-24
•Hebrews 4:12-13
•James 5:16
•Proverbs 27:17
•John 12:24

In This Episode You'll Learn:
•Why surrender is a daily decision, not a one-time event
•How control is often fear wearing armor
•The difference between preserving an image and pursuing transformation
•How pride disguises itself as self-protection
•Why comfort can become a barrier to obedience
•The biblical pattern of death to self before resurrection life
•How trusted relationships help expose blind spots and accelerate growth

The Making of a Man is a Christian podcast equipping men to become who God designed them to be—through biblical leadership, spiritual warfare, marriage, fatherhood, healing, purpose, and Christ-centered masculinity. 

Transcript

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What if the greatest obstacle to your spiritual growth isn't something outside of you? What if it isn't the culture? What if it isn't the enemy? What if it isn't your circumstances? What if the greatest obstacle is something you're still holding on to? Something you've justified? Something you've protected? Something you've learned to live with? Something that God has been putting his finger on for a long time. In the episode The Beautiful Brutality of the Cross, we explored a question that has challenged believers for centuries. How did the most horrifying symbol of torture in human history become the most beautiful symbol in Christianity? We looked at the brutality of the cross, the suffering, the humiliation, the sacrifice, the surrender. But the cross was never intended to be merely admired. It was intended to be applied. Because Jesus didn't simply die for us, he also calls us to die with him. In Luke 9.23, it says, if anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. That's where things become uncomfortable. Because most of us love the idea of resurrection, but we're not nearly as excited about crucifixion. We want peace without surrender, freedom without repentance, healing without confession, restoration without humility, victory without sacrifice. And that's why at the end of the last episode I asked six questions. Not because they were interesting and not because they were thought-provoking, but because they expose the places where the cross has not yet finished its work in us. Today we're going to revisit those six questions, but we're going to dive a little deeper. Because these questions only become transformative when we stop giving quick answers. The human heart is remarkably skilled at self-justification, at image management, at rationalization, at selective honesty. We can convince ourselves we're surrendered while still clinging to control. We can appear strong while quietly avoiding transformation. We can talk about humility while protecting our pride. We can speak about obedience while choosing comfort. So today I want to encourage you to do something different. Don't answer these questions with your feelings. Answer them with evidence. Not what you believe about yourself, not what you hope is true, but what your life is actually revealing. Because the goal of this episode is not condemnation. The goal is freedom. Psalm 139, 23 through 24 says, Search me, O God, and know my heart, try me and know my thoughts, and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. That is the prayer behind this episode. Not Lord confirm what I already believe, but Lord show me what I cannot see, because what God reveals He can heal. What He exposes He can transform, and what we surrender He can redeem. So wherever you're listening today, driving down the road, sitting in your office, working in the garage, walking through your neighborhood, I want you to invite the Holy Spirit into this conversation. Ask him to show you the truth, not the comfortable truth, the transforming truth. Because beneath every battle is a deeper question, and beneath every question is a cross. So let's get started. Welcome to the making of a man. I'm Mike Judd and this podcast exists to help men live intentionally, courageously, and victoriously in the battles they face every day. Because whether we recognize it or not, we're in a war, not against flesh and blood, but against the spiritual forces that seek to distract us, discourage us, deceive us, and keep us from becoming the men God has created us to be. Here we don't fight for victory, we fight from victory. The victory Jesus Christ secured through his death, burial, and resurrection. Our mission is simple to help men build Christ centered lives, strengthen their marriages and families, walk in spiritual integrity, and become the leader God has called them to be. So grab your Bible, open your heart, and let's continue the journey of becoming the man God designed you to be. This is the making of a man. Before we dive into the first question, I want to make something very clear. The purpose of this episode is not to make you feel worse about yourself. It's not to pile on guilt, it's not to convince you that you're failing, it's not to leave you discouraged. Again, the purpose is freedom. Think about a mirror for a moment. A mirror doesn't create flaws, it doesn't cause problems, it doesn't put dirt on your face. A mirror simply reveals what is already there. And because it reveals what is there, it gives you the opportunity to do something about it. In the same way, these six questions are mirrors. They're not accusations, they're not condemnation, they're invitations. Invitations for the Holy Spirit to reveal what may have been hidden beneath the surface. Hebrews 4 12 tells us for the Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. God's Word has a way of reaching places we cannot reach ourselves, places we've ignored, places we've justified, places we've protected. But here's the good news God never reveals something to shame us. He reveals it because he loves us too much to leave us where we are. Conviction is not condemnation. Condemnation says you're a failure. Conviction says there's something better than this. Condemnation pushes us away from God, but conviction draws us closer to Him. So as we walk through these six questions today, don't approach them with fear. Approach them with humility. Approach them with curiosity. Approach them with a willingness to let God tell you the truth. Because what He reveals He can heal. What He exposes He can transform, and what He asks you to surrender, He intends to redeem. Let's look at the f into the first mirror. The first question is this What part of me still refuses to surrender? At first glance that sounds like a simple question, but if we're honest, it may be one of the hardest questions in the entire episode. Because surrender is one of those words we love to talk about in church. We sing about it, we pray about it, we admire another people, but living it is something entirely different. Most of us think surrender is a one-time event. The day we gave our lives to Christ, the day we prayed a prayer, the day we walked down an aisle, the day we got baptized. But Jesus describes surrender as something daily. Luke 9 23 says, If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. Daily, not once, not occasionally, not when it's convenient, daily. Because following Jesus is not simply a decision to receive him as Savior. It's a continual decision to acknowledge him as Lord. And that's where surrender becomes difficult. Because surrender forces us to answer a question we often avoid. Who is really in charge? You see, most of us don't struggle with surrender in the areas that cost us very little. We struggle where God's will collides with our own preferences, where his truth challenges our desires, where obedience requires sacrifice, where following Him means letting go of something we would rather keep. That's why this question is really asking what part of my life do I still insist belongs to me instead of God? Maybe it's a habit, maybe it's a relationship, maybe it's a wound, maybe it's a dream or an attitude, maybe it's a secret nobody else knows. Whatever it is, surrender becomes difficult when we want Jesus to be Lord of most things, but not that thing. And here's what I've discovered. Unsurrendered areas often reveal themselves through our reactions, not our intentions, our reactions. Pay attention to the places where you become defensive. Pay attention to the places where you immediately begin explaining yourself. Pay attention to the places where you feel the need to justify your actions. Pay attention to the places where obedience gets delayed. Because those reactions are often evidence that something deeper is happening beneath the surface. Maybe you've heard yourself say something like this. I know what scripture says, but those six words can reveal a lot. I know what scripture says, but I know what scripture says about forgiveness, but you don't know what they did. I know what Scripture says about honesty, but this situation is complicated. I know what Scripture says about purity, but I'm lonely. I know what Scripture says about reconciliation, but they should come to me first. Do you hear what's happening? We're not rejecting God's truth. We're negotiating with it. We're looking for exceptions, loopholes, alternatives, conditions, reasons why obedience should be delayed. But partial surrender is still resistance, and selective obedience is still disobedience. One of the clearest indicators that an area remains unsurrendered is when God keeps bringing us back to it. The Holy Spirit has a remarkable way of putting his finger on the very thing we'd rather avoid. Not because he's trying to shame us, not because he's trying to condemn us, but because he loves us. A good father does not ignore what is harming his children. He addresses it, he pursues it. He patiently brings it back into the light until we're willing to let him have it. I know this because I've lived it. There was a season in my life when God kept bringing me back to the same area over and over again. I knew what Scripture said, I knew what obedience looked like. I knew what God was asking of me. Yet I kept finding reasons to delay surrender. I could justify it, I could explain it, I could tell myself that my circumstances made it understandable. I could convince myself that I would deal with it later. But God wouldn't let me stay comfortable there. Not because he was angry with me, not because he had given up on me, but because he loved me too much to leave me there. Looking back, I can see that every moment of conviction was actually an act of grace. Every time God pressed on that area of my life, he wasn't trying to expose me for punishment. He was exposing the very thing he wanted to heal. And for a long time I mistook conviction for condemnation. I thought God was disappointed in me. I thought he was frustrated with me. But what I eventually discovered was that conviction is evidence of a father's love. God disciplines those he loves, he pursues those he loves. He refuses to abandon those he loves. The breakthrough didn't come when I finally became strong enough. The breakthrough came when I stopped negotiating, when I stopped explaining, when I stopped defending, when I stopped trying to manage the situation myself, and simply surrendered it to him. And what I discovered on the other side of surrender was not shame, it was freedom, not condemnation, grace, not rejection, restoration. What God was asking me to lay down was the very thing preventing me from experience the freedom he wanted to give me. And I wonder if some of you listening today are experiencing the same thing. Maybe God has been bringing you back to the same conversation for months, maybe years. The same habit, the same wound, the same compromise, the same relationship, the same act of obedience. And maybe you've become so familiar with his conviction that you've started tuning it out. Can I encourage you today? Don't ignore the pressure of his hand, because the areas where God continues to press are often the areas where he longs to bring the greatest freedom. The question is not whether God has been speaking, the question is whether we're finally ready to surrender. And often the areas that make us most uncomfortable are the very areas where he wants to do his deepest work. So let me ask you this. What topic consistently makes you uncomfortable when God presses on it? What conversation do you keep trying to avoid? What area do you keep trying to explain away? What act of obedience do you keep postponing? Because surrender is rarely revealed by what we say. It's revealed by what we refuse to release. And perhaps the most honest prayer we can pray isn't, Lord, show me everyone else's issues, but Lord show me what I'm still holding on to. Because freedom begins where surrender begins, and surrender begins when we stop negotiating with God and start trusting Him. Here's a reflection question for you to think about. What topic makes me uncomfortable when God presses on it? That discomfort may be revealing the very place where surrender is still incomplete. The second question we're going to look at is where am I demanding control? And if we're honest, most of us don't immediately see ourselves as controlling people. In fact, many of us would probably say the opposite. We'd say we're responsible, prepared, disciplined, organized, intentional. But that's what makes control so difficult to recognize. Because control really introduces itself as control, it usually disguises itself as something much more respectable, like responsibility, leadership, preparation, wisdom, high standards, concern, or care. And while all of those things can be healthy, they can also become masks that hide a deeper issue fear. Because at its core, control is often an attempt to protect ourselves from uncertainty. Control is often our attempt to protect ourselves from pain, to protect ourselves from disappointment, to protect ourselves from uncertainty, to protect ourselves from outcomes we don't want, to protect ourselves from situations we cannot predict, to protect ourselves from being hurt again. And while that desire is understandable, it can quietly become a substitute for trust. In many cases, control is simply self-protection wearing the mask of responsibility. The problem is that we begin believing our peace depends on our ability to manage what only God can truly control. It's our effort to guarantee an outcome, to eliminate risk, to avoid pain, to make sure nothing uncomfortable happens. And if we're not careful, we begin trusting our ability to manage circumstances more than God's ability to guide us through them. That's why this question isn't really asking, Am I a controlling person? It's asking, what am I struggling to trust God with? Think about the areas where you experience the most anxiety. The mirror isn't asking where you're organized, it isn't asking where you're responsible, it isn't asking where you have a plan. Those things can be good and healthy. This mirror is asking something deeper. Where do you become fearful when you're no longer in control? Where do you find yourself grasping for certainty? Where do you struggle to rest because the outcome feels too important to leave in God's hands? Because those moments are often revealed where trust has been replaced by control. The most frustration, the most sleepless nights, the most emotional energy. Those areas often reveal where control has taken root. Because control thrives wherever trust is lacking. Maybe it's your finances. You run every possible scenario in your head because uncertainty feels unbearable. Maybe it's your children. You spend endless energy trying to protect them from every mistake, every disappointment, every poor decision. Maybe it's your marriage, maybe it's your future, maybe it's your reputation or your career. Maybe it's a situation that feels completely beyond your ability to influence. Whatever the area, control always promises the same thing. If you can just manage this a little better, you'll finally have peace. But that promise is a lie. Because control never produces peace. Control produces exhaustion. Why? Because control places a burden on our shoulders that we were never designed to carry. Only God is sovereign, only God sees the whole picture, only God knows every outcome, and only God can work in our hearts that we cannot change. Yet so often we find ourselves trying to do God's job, trying to manage outcomes, trying to control people, trying to force results, trying to carry responsibilities that belong to Him. And eventually that weight becomes crushing. One of the clearest indicators of control is what happens when things don't go according to plan. How do you respond when people disappoint you? How do you respond when circumstances change? How do you respond when prayers aren't answered on your timetable? How do you respond when someone you love makes choices you cannot fix? Those moments reveal whether we're trusting God or demanding control. Because trust says, God, I don't understand this, but I trust you. Control says, God, I'll trust you when I know how this ends. And that's not faith, brothers. Faith has always required uncertainty. If we could see every outcome, trust wouldn't be necessary. Faith is choosing to trust God's character when we cannot see God's plan. And that is incredibly difficult. Especially when the people we love are involved, especially when the stakes feel high, when our hearts are invested. But control has a way of convincing us that our anxiety is helping, that our worrying is productive, that our constant mental rehearsing is accomplishing something. Meanwhile, Jesus says, Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? Matthew 6 27. The answer? None of us. Anxiety cannot create peace, control cannot create certainty, and worry cannot create trust. Only surrender can do that. Now, surrender does not mean passivity. It doesn't mean we stop praying, it doesn't mean we stop loving. It doesn't mean we stop planning, it doesn't mean we stop acting responsibly. Surrender means we stop trying to carry responsibilities that belong to God alone. We do what God has called us to do. We pray, we love, we lead, we obey, and then we trust Him with only what He can do. That's not weakness, that's faith. And when you think about it, that's exactly what we see at the cross. The cross is the ultimate picture of surrendered control. Jesus could have called down angels, he could have stopped the process, he could have chosen another path, yet he entrusted himself completely to the Father, even in the face of suffering, even in the face of uncertainty, even in the face of death. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed, Not my will, but yours be done. That's surrender. And every time we choose trust over control, we are walking the same path. We are laying down our demand to control outcomes and placing our confidence in the one who sees what we cannot see and knows what we cannot know. So let me ask you, where do you struggle most with uncertainty? Where do you find yourself replaying conversations, trying to manage outcomes, or attempting to fix people? Carrying burdens God never asks you to carry, because beneath every control issue is a deeper question. Do I trust God enough to release what I cannot control? Here's a couple reflection questions for you. Where do I become anxious when outcomes are unclear? What outcome am I trying so hard to control that I've stopped trusting God with it? Because anxiety is often the symptom, control is often the strategy, but underneath both is a deeper issue. Trust. That anxiety may be revealing an area where control has quietly replaced trust. The third question we're going to look at was this. Where am I preserving image instead of pursuing transformation? This question may be one of the most uncomfortable in the entire episode. Because most of us want transformation, we want freedom and healing, we want intimacy with God and stronger marriages. We want healthier relationships. We want victory over the struggles that keep defeating us. But if we're honest, many times we want those things while still protecting the image we've worked so hard to build. And that's where the tension begins, because image and transformation often require opposite things. Image says hide it. Transformation says bring it into the light. Image says protect yourself. Transformation says be honest. Image says make sure people think you're doing well. Transformation says allow God to show you where you're not. The truth is most of us spend far more energy managing perception than we realize. We curate what people see, we edit what people know, we carefully choose what we reveal and what we conceal. We highlight strengths and we minimize our weaknesses. We tell the story in a way that makes us look a little better. Not because we're evil, but because we're human. And because being fully known feels risky. What if people see the real me? What if they know my struggles? What if they see my failures? If they discover the things I'm trying so hard to hide? Those fears are powerful, but they also create a prison. Because whatever remains hidden remains difficult to heal. You cannot bring transformation to a version of yourself that doesn't exist. God transforms the real you. Not the image of you, not the edited version of you, not the version you present on Sunday morning, and not the version you post online. The real you. And that's why image preservation can become one of the greatest obstacles to spiritual growth. Because image asks how do I look? Transformation asks who am I becoming? Those are very different questions. One is focused on perception, the other is focused on formation. One seeks approval, the other seeks growth. One is concerned with appearances, and the other is concerned with truth. And the longer we prioritize image, the harder transformation becomes, because eventually we are more concerned about being committed to protecting the illusion than pursuing the healing. One of the clearest indicators that image has become more important than transformation is our response to vulnerability. Pay attention to the phrases you use. I'm fine, I've got it handled. It's not a big deal. I don't need help. I'll figure it out. Sometimes those statements are true, but sometimes they're shields. Sometimes they're ways of keeping people at a safe distance, ways of making sure no one gets close enough to see what's really happening beneath the surface. And here's the irony. The very vulnerability we fear is often the doorway to the freedom we want. I know that because there was a season in my own life where God confronted me with this reality. For a long time there were struggles and failures that I wanted to keep hidden. Not because I was proud of them, not because I wanted to continue living in them, but because I was afraid, afraid of disappointing people, of being judged, of losing respect, and afraid if people saw the truth they would see me differently. So I did what many men do. I tried to manage the image. I wanted freedom, but I wanted freedom without exposure. I wanted healing, but I wanted healing without vulnerability. I wanted transformation, but the transformation I wanted still protected the parts of my life I didn't want anyone to see. And God began showing me something I couldn't ignore. The freedom I wanted was on the other side of the honesty I feared. Eventually he brought me to a place where I knew I had a decision to make. I could continue protecting the image, or I could trust him with the truth. I remember the fear that came with those conversations, the fear of bringing hidden things into the light, the fear of being fully known, the fear of how people I love might respond, but looking back now what stands out to me isn't my courage, it's God's faithfulness. Because what I thought would destroy me became one of the very tools God used to begin restoring me. The conversations I feared became the beginning of freedom. The honesty I resisted became the doorway to healing. The exposure I dreaded became an opportunity for God to do a deeper work in my heart. And here's what God taught me through that season. Hiding feels safer than honesty, but it isn't, because whatever remains hidden remains difficult to heal. The enemy works in secrecy, God works in the light. And when we finally bring things into the light, we often discover that God's grace is far greater than our fears. Now that doesn't mean those conversations were easy, it doesn't mean there weren't consequences, it doesn't mean there wasn't pain. But it does mean that God met me there, and I learned something I'll never forget. God cannot transform the person I'm pretending to be. He transforms the person I actually am, the real me, the broken me, the struggling me, the honest me. And perhaps some of you listening today are carrying something you've convinced yourself must remain hidden. Maybe it's a struggle, a failure, a wound, a secret, or a fear. Something you've been managing for so long that hiding has become normal. Can I encourage you? The light is not your enemy. The light is where healing begins. And the God who already knows everything about you is not asking for honesty so he can condemn you. He's asking for honesty so he can transform you. James five sixteen says confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. Notice the connection. Confession, then healing. Bringing it to the light, then transformation. The kingdom of God has always worked this way. Light produces freedom, darkness produces bondage. Truth produces growth. Hiding produces stagnation. And yet our instinct is often the opposite. We hide because we're afraid, we conceal because we're ashamed, we protect because we're trying to avoid pain. But in doing so we often delay the very work God wants us to do. And beneath all this is a question every man must answer Would I rather look strong or actually become whole? Because those two paths eventually diverge. One leads to appearance, the other leads to transformation. One impresses people, the other changes lives. One protects image, the other invites God into places that still need healing. And only one of those paths leads to freedom. This mirror isn't asking what other people believe about you. It's asking what God already knows about you because God is not looking for polished appearances, He's looking for surrendered hearts. And here's our reflection question for the section. What am I working hardest to keep from others? And what might God want to do if I finally brought it into the light? Now we're going to move on to the fourth question, and that's where has pride become my shield? When most people hear the word pride, they immediately think of arrogance, someone boastful, someone self-important, someone who constantly talks about themselves. But pride is often far more subtle than that. In fact, some of the most powerful forms of pride don't look arrogant at all. They look wounded, defensive, withdrawn, self-protective. Because pride isn't always thinking you're better than someone else. Sometimes pride is simply being unwilling to let your guard down, unwilling to admit you're wrong, unwilling to acknowledge your need, unwilling to risk being hurt. Pride has many disguises, and sometimes it disguises itself as strength, or disguises itself as wisdom or self respect. And sometimes it disguises itself as self-protection. That's why this mirror requires honesty. Because pride rarely announces itself. It usually hides behind justification, behind explanation and blame, behind resentment and silence. Ask yourself what happens when someone corrects me? What happens when someone challenges me? What happens when someone points out a weakness, a blind spot, or a failure? Do I become teachable or do I become defensive? Do I listen or do I immediately start building the case for myself? Because defensiveness is often one of the clearest indicators that pride is protecting something. And what pride protects, God cannot transform. One of the reasons pride is so dangerous is that it often convinces us we're protecting ourselves when we're actually imprisoning ourselves. We tell ourselves, I won't apologize first. I've already done enough. They should come to me. They hurt me, they misunderstood me. They don't deserve another chance. And sometimes those statements are rooted in real pain, real disappointment, real betrayal, real wounds. But pride has a way of taking legitimate pain and turning it into permanent distance. And convinces us that self-protection is safer than humility, that isolation is safer than vulnerability, that hardness is safer than forgiveness. But the cross, the cross tells us a different story. The cross is the ultimate picture of humility. Jesus had every right to defend himself, every right to justify himself, every right to call down judgment and demand repayment. Yet he chose surrender over self-defense, humility over self-protection, forgiveness over retaliation, and every time we choose humility, we are walking in the footsteps of Christ. Not because humility feels natural, but because humility creates room for God to work. Pride says protect yourself. Humility says trust God. Pride says make your case. Humility says let God be your defender. Pride says don't let anyone see your weakness. Humility says my strength was never the source of my security. And here's what I've discovered. Most of us can identify the people whose pride frustrates us. Few of us can identify the places where our own pride is controlling us. That's why this mirror matters, because pride often hides in places we've stopped examining, the unresolved conflict, the difficult conversation, the apology we've never made, the correction we've never accepted, the forgiveness we've never offered, the wound we've continued protecting. This mirror isn't asking where am I better than someone else? It's asking where am I protecting my ego instead of pursuing peace? Because peace often requires humility. Healing often requires humility. Restoration requires humility. Growth always requires humility, and humility begins when we stop asking how do I protect myself? And start asking, what would obedience look like? So ask yourselves this. Where do I become defensive when challenged? Where am I protecting my ego instead of pursuing peace? What relationship, conflict, or conversation might look different if humility became more important than self-protection? And this leads to our fifth question, which is where am I choosing comfort over obedience? Now let's be clear. Comfort is not the enemy. Rest is a gift from God. Peace is a gift from God. Enjoyment is a gift from God. There is nothing inherently wrong with comfort. The danger comes when comfort becomes the primary factor in our decision making, where comfort becomes our compass, where comfort becomes our counselor, when comfort becomes the voice we listen to most. God has never promised that obedience will always be comfortable. In fact, throughout Scripture, some of God's greatest invitations required men and women to step into discomfort. Abraham left what was familiar. Moses stood before Pharaoh. Joshua stepped into the Jordan. Esther risked her life. Peter stepped out of the boat. Paul endured hardship, imprisonment, and persecution. Again and again God called his people beyond what felt safe, predictable, and comfortable. And he still does. And that's why this mirror asks a difficult question. What do I already know God is asking me to do? Not what might he be asking, not what could he be asking, what do I already know? Because for many of us the issue is not a lack of clarity, it's a lack of willingness. We've heard his prompting, we've felt his conviction, we've sensed his leading, but we've delayed our response. And often we delay because obedience feels costly. Maybe it's a difficult conversation you've been avoiding. Maybe it's forgiveness. Maybe it's repentance. Maybe it's ending a compromise. Maybe it's stepping into leadership. Maybe it's serving in a way that feels inconvenient. Or maybe it's trusting God in an area where the outcome remains uncertain. Whatever it is, comfort has a way of whispering. Not today, later, when life settles down, when the timing is better, when you're more prepared, when you feel ready. But delayed obedience has a way of becoming permanent disobedience. Because tomorrow becomes next week, next week becomes next month, next month becomes next year, and before we know it, we've spent years avoiding the very thing God was asking us to do. One of the clearest indicators that comfort has become an idol is procrastination. Not because we're lazy, but because we're unwilling to embrace the discomfort obedience requires. We tell ourselves we're thinking about it, praying about it, preparing for it, and waiting on it, when in reality we're often just postponing it, and every delay allows comfort to gain a stronger foothold. The truth is growth almost always lives on the other side of discomfort. Not because discomfort itself is holy, but because obedience often requires us to leave what is familiar, to leave what feels safe, to leave what we control. And that's where faith begins. The cross reminds us of this. Nothing about the cross was comfortable. Nothing about the cross was convenient. Nothing about the cross was easy. Jesus did not choose the path because it was comfortable, he chose it because it was obedient. In the Garden of Gethsemane he prayed, Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will but yours be done. That prayer reveals something profound. Obedience does not require the absence of difficulty. Obedience requires surrender in the midst of difficulty. And perhaps that's what some of us need to hear today. You don't have to feel ready, you don't have to feel confident, you don't have to feel comfortable. You simply have to be willing. Because God never required perfect confidence before obedience. He simply asks for faith. And faith often takes the next step before all the questions are answered. So let me ask you this. What act of obedience have you been postponing? What conversation have you been avoiding? What step have you been delaying? What has God been asking you to do that comfort keeps talking you out of? Because every act of obedience costs something. But every act of obedience also creates room for God to work in ways comfort never can. This mirror isn't asking what feels easiest, it's asking what faithfulness requires. So ask yourselves this. What do I already know God is asking me to do? What act of obedience feels costly enough that I keep postponing it? And what would happen if I stopped waiting until I felt ready and simply trusted God with the next step? So now we move on to the sixth and final question, which is this. Where am I trying to experience resurrection life without first dying to self? This may be the deepest question of this episode, because beneath every struggle we've discussed today lies a common desire. We all want resurrection. We all want new life, we all want freedom, we all want healing and peace. We want restoration and victory. The problem is that we often want resurrection without crucifixion. We want the outcome without surrender, blessing without transformation. We want freedom without releasing the thing keeping us bound. We want God to change our circumstances while leaving us unchanged. But that has never been the pattern of the kingdom. The pattern of the kingdom has always been death, then resurrection, surrender, then freedom, humility, then exaltation, the cross, then the empty tomb. Jesus said in John twelve twenty four, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it bears much fruit. That principle is woven throughout the entire Christian life. Something must die before something new can live. That's not punishment, that's transformation. And if we're honest, much of our frustration comes from trying to skip that process. We ask God for peace while protecting the anxiety. He wants us to surrender. We ask God for healing while resisting the honesty healing requires. We ask God for restored relationships while holding tightly to our pride. We ask God for freedom while continuing to protect compromise. We ask God for intimacy while refusing vulnerability. We ask God for victory while avoiding repentance. So in other words, we want the resurrection life while keeping the old self alive. But God loves us too much to allow that because the very things we're protecting are often the things preventing us from experiencing the freedom we deserve. I know that truth because it became very real in my own life. There was again a season where I desperately wanted God to bring restoration. I wanted healing. I wanted trust rebuilt. I wanted things to be different. And like most people, I focused primarily on the outcome I wanted. I focused on what I hoped God would restore. What I didn't initially understand was that God was doing something deeper. Before he worked on what I wanted restored around me, he was working on what needed to be surrendered in me. God began showing me that while I was protecting parts of myself, parts that I wanted to defend, parts that I wanted to explain or to justify, parts that wanted restoration without complete transparency, parts that wanted resurrection without crucifixion. And that was a difficult realization. Because it's much easier to ask God to change circumstances than it is to allow him to change us. But little by little, God show me that the version of me I was trying to protect was standing in the way of the man he was trying to form. Not because he was punishing me, not because he was withholding blessing, but because he loved me too much to leave me unchanged. Looking back now I can see that the greatest miracle wasn't simply what God restored. The greatest miracle was that He transformed me. He was teaching me to stop managing appearances and start pursuing honesty, to stop defending myself and start embracing humility, to stop controlling outcomes and start trusting Him, to stop protecting. The old man and start surrendering to the new man he was creating. And what I discovered was this the things God asks us to lay down are often the very things keeping us from experiencing the life we're asking him to provide. What God wanted to resurrect in my life required something in me to die first, and that's still true today. Every act of resurrection begins with an act of surrender. Every empty tomb begins with a cross, and every new work God wants to do in us begins when we trust him enough to lay something down. Think about everything we've talked about today control, image, pride, comfort. What do they all have in common? They're all attempts to preserve ourself, to protect self, to defend self, to promote self, for comfort for self, and yet Jesus repeatedly calls us to something radically different. Luke nine twenty three. If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. Notice what Jesus doesn't say. He doesn't say improve yourself, protect yourself, promote yourself. He says deny yourself. That is the language of surrender. That is the language of crucifixion. That is the language of transformation. And while our flesh resists it, our freedom is found in it. Because God is never asking us to lay something down because he wants less for us. He's asking us to lay something down because he has something better waiting on the other side of surrender. The old self says, protect me. Jesus says, Trust me. The old self says, control the outcome. Jesus says, trust me. The old self says hide. Jesus says, Come into the light. The old self says defend yourself. Jesus says, Trust me. And the old self says choose comfort. Jesus says follow me. And every day, every believer faces that choice, not once but daily. The choice between preserving the old life or surrendering it. The choice between self protection and trust. The choice between the cross and comfort. But here's the good news Resurrection is not something we create. It's something God does. Our responsibility is surrender. His responsibility is transformation. Our responsibility is obedience. It's his responsibility for the outcome. Our responsibility is to lay it down and his responsibility is to bring it new life. That has always been his work, and it still is today. So perhaps the most important question of this entire episode is not what do I want God to resurrect, but what am I unwilling to let die? But the answer to that question may reveal the very thing standing between where you are and where God wants to take you. After six questions like these, there's a danger we need to acknowledge. The danger is assuming that we see ourselves clearly. The truth is most of us don't. We see parts of ourselves. We see what we intend. We see what we hope is true. We see what we want to believe. But we don't always see what others experience, and we certainly don't always see our blind spots. That's why God never intended for us to walk this journey alone. One of the greatest gifts God gives us is the gift of trusted mirrors. People who love us enough to tell us the truth, people who care more about our growth than our comfort, people who are willing to lovingly point out what we cannot see ourselves. Proverbs twenty seven seventeen says as iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. Think about that image for a moment. Sharpening creates friction. Sharpening is not always comfortable. Sharpening removes rough edges, and that's exactly why many people avoid it. Because we prefer affirmation to correction, agreement to accountability, comfort to challenge. But growth rarely happens where honesty is absent. In fact, some of the greatest breakthroughs in our lives come when someone lovingly tells us a truth we could not see on our own, such as a trusted spouse or friend, a brother in Christ, a mentor, an accountability partner, someone who has earned the right to speak into our lives. The reality is that self-reflection is valuable, but self-reflection has limits because we all have blind spots, areas where everyone else sees something that we cannot, areas where our intentions and our impact don't match, areas where we believe we're doing one thing while others are experiencing something very different. That's why humility is so important. Humility doesn't just ask, Lord show me. Humility also asks, Who have you placed in my life to help me see? And if we're honest, that can be uncomfortable, because what if they confirm what we're afraid is true? What if they point out something we've been avoiding? What if they identify the very thing we've been trying to protect? But that's often where freedom begins. Not when we defend ourselves, not when we explain ourselves, not when we justify ourselves, but when we become teachable, when we become willing to listen, when we become willing to learn, willing to grow. So if you're serious about answering these six questions honestly, I want to challenge you to do something courageous. Ask someone you trust, someone who knows you well, someone who loves you enough to tell the truth, and ask some questions like these. Where do you experience me as controlling? Where do I become defensive? What do I protect too fiercely? Where do I avoid vulnerability? Where do I make life harder because I need control? What blind spots do you see in me? Then do something even harder. Listen. Don't interrupt, don't explain, don't defend, don't build a case. Just listen. Because sometimes the mirror God uses most powerfully are the people he places close to us. And while their observations may be uncomfortable, they may also become one of the greatest gifts God uses to accelerate your growth. This mirror isn't asking whether you have people around you. It's asking whether you've given anyone permission to tell you the truth. So as we close today, I want to take you back to where we started. Six mirrors, six questions, six opportunities to allow God to reveal what may have been hidden beneath the surface. We've asked what part of me still refuses surrender? Where am I demanding control? Where am I preserving image instead of pursuing transformation? Where has pride become my shield? Where am I choosing comfort over obedience? And where am I trying to experience resurrection life without first dying to self? Those are powerful questions, but beneath all six is one final question. A question that may be more important than all others combined. If Jesus looked at you today and simply said lay that down, what would immediately come to mind? Don't overthink it, don't analyze it, don't explain it away. What came to mind the moment you heard those words? Because often the first thing that surfaces is the very thing the Holy Spirit has been trying to address. The habit, the wound, the fear, the resentment, the compromise, the relationship, the control, the pride, the image, the comfort, the thing you've been protecting, the thing you've been carrying, the thing you've been negotiating with God about, the thing you've convinced yourself you'll deal with someday. But what if someday is today? What if God's invitation isn't condemnation? What if it's freedom? Because that's what the cross has always been, an invitation. An invitation to lay down what cannot save us, so that we can receive what only Christ can provide, an invitation to stop carrying burdens we were never meant to carry, an invitation to trust the one who carried the cross for us. And here's what I've learned. God rarely reveals everything at once. Most of the time he reveals the next thing, the next step, the next act of obedience, the next area of surrender, the next conversation, the next decision, the next act of trust. And that's all he asks of us. Not perfection, not complete understanding, not certainty about the future, but just obedience to what he's showing us today. So here's your battle plan for this week. First, pray Psalm one hundred thirty nine, twenty three through twenty four every day. Search me, O God and know my heart. Test me and know my anxious sought thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me and lead me in the way everlasting. Don't pray it casually, pray it honestly. Give God permission to answer it. Second, write down your answers to all six questions, not mentally, physically. Put them on paper because what remains vague often remains unchanged. Third, ask one trusted person for honest feedback, not someone who will simply tell you what you want to hear, someone who loves you enough to tell you the truth. And when they answer, listen. Fourth, identify one specific act of obedience. Not five, not ten, one. One thing God is asking you to do, one thing you've been postponing, one thing you've been protecting, one thing you've been avoiding, and then do it. This week, not someday, not when you feel ready, not when it's comfortable this week. Because transformation doesn't happen when truth is merely heard. Transformation happens when truth is obeyed. And finally remember this. The goal of this episode was never self examination for the sake of self examination. The goal was surrender. Because every question we've asked today ultimately leads back to the same place, the foot of the cross, the place where control is surrendered, where image is abandoned and pride is humbled, where comfort loses its grip, and where the old man dies and new life begins. The question isn't whether God is asking you to lay something down, the question is whether you'll trust him enough to do it. So as we close today, I want to remind you of something that is easy to forget. The purpose of the cross was never to make you feel defeated. It was never meant to leave you buried beneath guilt, shame, or condemnation. The cross is not God's evidence against you. The cross is God's declaration for you. It is the ultimate proof of His love, the ultimate proof of His grace, the ultimate proof that He was willing to do whatever was necessary to redeem, restore, and transform you. And because of that, these six questions were never intended to push you away from God, they were intended to draw you closer to Him. Because the areas God reveals are the areas He wants to heal. The areas He exposes are the areas He wants to transform, and the thing He asks you to surrender are never greater than what He desires to give in return. The enemy wants you to believe that surrender is lost. The enemy wants you to believe that surrender is loss. God surrender is freedom. The enemy says if you let go you'll have less. God says if you trust me, you'll discover more. The enemy says protect yourself. God says trust me. The enemy says hide. God says come into the light. The enemy says hold on tighter, God says lay it down. And every day every man faces that choice. The choice between self protection and surrender, the choice between control and trust, between preserving the old man and becoming the new man Christ is forming. The good news is that you do not have to walk that path alone. The same Savior who calls you to take up your cross is the Savior who walks beside you. The same God who reveals truth is the God who provides grace. The same God who calls you into surrender is the God who supplies the strength to obey. And the same God who begins a work in you is faithful to complete it. So whatever God has brought to your attention today, don't run from it, don't explain it away, negotiate with it, bring it to Him, and lay it at the foot of the cross. Trust Him with it, because on the other side of surrender is freedom, on the other side of honesty is healing, and on the other side of humility is growth, on the other side of obedience is transformation, and on the other side of the cross is resurrection. My prayer for you this week is not that God would simply make your life easier. My prayer is that he would make your heart more surrendered, that he would give you the courage to be honest, the humility to receive truth and the faith to trust him, and the obedience to take the next step he is asking of you. May God search your heart, may he reveal what needs to be revealed, may He heal what needs to be healed, may He strengthen what needs to be strengthened, and may He continue the work of transforming you into the man He created you to be. Because the world doesn't need more men who know about Jesus. The world needs more men who have been changed by Him. Men who walk in humility, men who live with integrity, men who choose with obedience, men who choose obedience over comfort, men who trust God more than themselves, men who understand that surrender is not weakness, it is strength under the lordship of Christ. Until next time, remember, a man of God is a man at war, not against flesh and blood, but against the spiritual forces that seek to keep him from becoming the man God was calling him to be. Stand firm, stay vigilant, keep your eyes on Christ, fight the good fight, run your race with endurance. And never forget, you are not fighting for victory. Through Jesus Christ, you are fighting from victory. God bless you, and we'll see you next time on the making of a man.