This Is Why I Can’t Stop Writing

I got home from my route yesterday, beat and dusty, like always.

Scrolled through the comments on the post about throttling and the $3 campaign—and saw two things:

Encouragement… and caution.

“Take a break.”

“Slow down.”

“Don’t burn out.”

But I need you to hear me clearly:

This isn’t content.

It’s a calling.

I write when the Lord stirs me.

And yesterday, He did.

I was parked outside a truck stop, waiting for the landfill to open, when I read a message from a subscriber—desperate for advice. Not surface stuff. Soul-level stuff. The kind that wrecks you if you care even a little.

It brought back a memory I’ve never shaken.

Years ago, when my wife and I first came to Montana, we stayed at a boys’ home with our kids. I was preaching and working every job I could find—40 miles one way just to provide. That’s where we met a young couple. He was a former addict saved out of a men’s home in Texas. She was a Montana girl raised in the faith.

They were like us: hungry, on fire, raising kids, and wanting to do something eternal.

We stayed close. We’d make the long drive in our beat-up Suburban to Billings and crash at their place. He started a church. She homeschooled their four. It felt like the Kingdom was growing.

Then life got heavy.

He stepped away from ministry.

They started drifting.

I prayed.

But a few years later—he was out, and she was seeking divorce.

Yesterday, my wife dusted off an old phone to grab some pictures. It was still logged into her Facebook. That’s when we found it.

She died last month.

Just one day after my birthday.

Their kids—motherless.

Him—alone.

And my heart—wrecked.

This is why I write.

This is why I can’t stop.

It’s not about going viral. It’s not about money.

It’s about war.

I’m done watching my friends—and my brothers—get eaten alive by the enemy.

I write because men are falling.

Families are crumbling.

And the Church is asleep in the pew.

So no—I won’t take a break.

I’ll rest when the Lord says “well done.”

Until then, I’m asking you to:

Pray.

Share.

And if you’re able—put $3 toward this mission.

Every dollar helps us fight harder, write louder, and reach farther.

https://buy.stripe.com/cN23cnaqR9Jj85W9AY

For the family in Montana.

For the next man on the edge.

And for the war we’re all in—whether we admit it or not.