faith

Be Where Your Feet Are: A Christian Reflection on Contentment, Purpose, and Gratitude

/ Myron Pope / Leave a comment

A few days ago, I had an unexpected encounter in my driveway. A man I didn’t immediately recognize approached me and asked, “Do you remember me?” He then reminded me that many years ago, he had brought his daughter to my office. I had worked with her and their family during a time of great need. He shared that because of that support, she is now thriving, excelling in a successful military career and having recently completed law school. He told me their entire family still attributes much of her journey to the help I offered back then. I was humbled beyond words.

After he left, I stood there for a while, reflecting. That moment stirred something deep within me. I realized just how much I miss working with young people, helping them believe in themselves, overcome obstacles, and step confidently into their future. It reminded me of the calling I once lived out daily, and how sacred that work truly was. In those seasons, I don’t think I appreciated fully the weight or beauty of the opportunity I’d been given.

God gave me gifts, and for a time, He opened doors for me to use them in powerful ways. But if I’m honest, there were times when I was so focused on what was next, the next title, the next achievement, the next milestone, that I missed the miracle of the present. I didn’t always “be where my feet were.”

That phrase, “Be where your feet are”, was spoken to Coach Nick Saban as he frequently reminded his players, but it has deep biblical resonance. God has already given us so much: family, health, calling, love, and grace. But if we’re always chasing the next thing, we risk missing what’s already in our hands. One day, we look up, and it’s gone.

Paul understood this tension. He wrote in Philippians 4:12:

“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation…”

Paul didn’t write those words from a place of comfort. He wrote them from prison. Yet he had found the secret to contentment: not in circumstances, but in Christ. His peace didn’t come from what he had or didn’t have. It came from who he belonged to.

That’s the peace I’m seeking now. Looking back, I can see how God walked with me even in the hardest times. I see now that He was teaching me, preparing me, and holding me close even when I didn’t realize it. And though I carry sorrow over what’s lost, I’m learning to also carry deep gratitude for what was, and what still is.

So now, my prayer has changed. I ask God to help me stay rooted in the moment, to treasure the gifts I’ve been given, and to trust Him with both what has passed and what’s still to come. I pray for the strength to be fully where my feet are, and to recognize that even now, God is not done using my story.

If you’re reading this and wrestling with discontentment, I invite you to pause. Ask God to show you what He’s already doing right in front of you. Not in the future. Not in the “what if.” But right now. He’s here. He sees you. And He’s still writing your story.

Prayer:
Lord, help me to see the blessings in front of me. Teach me to live fully present, with a heart rooted in contentment and gratitude. Help me to let go of regret and to trust You with my future. Keep my feet grounded in Your purpose, and let me walk forward in peace. Amen.

In the Messiness, We Grow: Reflections on My Brother and the Gift of Community

/ Myron Pope / Leave a comment

Yesterday, I lost someone I called both godbrother and fraternity brother, Ronald Gamble. He was complex, like most of us are. Some saw him as prideful, but if you looked closer, you’d see that it was a kind of confidence, perhaps even a shield, shaped by life’s challenges. Regardless of how others perceived him, he loved his people deeply. His community was clear: our fraternity, the brotherhood of Masonry, the teammates he grew up with, and those who stood with him throughout life.

Losing a loved one always prompts reflection. In the wake of his passing, I’ve been thinking about the idea of community—what it means, what it takes, and why it matters.

Community is beautiful, but it’s also messy. It’s not polished or convenient. In John 15:15–16, Jesus calls us friends and tells us that we are appointed to bear lasting fruit. That fruit doesn’t grow in sterile conditions. It grows in dirt, in the joy and grief, in forgiveness and failure, in patience and presence.

True community is like a garden. To grow something real, you have to dig in. You have to get your hands dirty. It means walking alongside others not only in celebration, but also in sorrow. It means forgiving when it’s hard, loving when it’s inconvenient, and choosing connection even when it would be easier to retreat.

John 13:34–35 tells us to love one another as Christ has loved us. That’s not passive love. It’s active, intentional, sacrificial love. It’s the kind of love that forgives. It’s the kind of love that sticks around. And that’s the love I saw in my godbrother, underneath the armor. He may not have always said it, but he showed up, and he belonged to his people.

There’s something sacred in that kind of belonging.

I’ve also been reminded that community requires vulnerability. That’s where real transformation happens, when we allow others to see our imperfections and we choose to love theirs in return. That openness is risky, but without it, we miss out on the fruit of deep, meaningful connection.

So today, I reflect with gratitude for the life of my brother. For his presence in my life and in our shared communities. I reflect, too, on how I can be more present, more forgiving, more loving. Who do I need to forgive? Who do I need to love more boldly? Where do I need to dig deeper into the soil of relationship?

Community is God’s design for growth. It’s not clean or easy. But it’s sacred. And it’s worth it.

As we honor those we’ve lost, may we carry their legacy by cultivating connection, extending grace, and choosing love—even in the mess.

Only God Knows: A Song, A Season, and the Power of Being Seen

/ Myron Pope / Leave a comment

Some songs entertain. Some get stuck in your head.
And then there are a few that break you wide open.

That’s what “Only God Knows” by Struggle Jennings and Jelly Roll did to me.

When My Wife Hit Play

I didn’t find the song by accident. My wife sent it to me.
She knows me. She knows the roads I’ve walked, the weight I’ve carried, and the unspoken battles I’ve fought. When she shared it, I knew right away that it wasn’t just about music—it was about a message.

“God knows I’ve drank with the Devil / Been as high as the angels…”

That line wasn’t just lyrics. It was a reflection. Of my story. Of seasons of regret, isolation, and struggle. Of doing things I’m not proud of, but still somehow clinging to the hope that redemption is real.

The Line That Broke Me

“No, I ain’t sold my soul / But I damn near came close…”

That one stopped me cold.

I’ve never fully put into words how close I came to letting go—not just of dreams, but of myself. But when I heard those lyrics, it was like someone had finally said the thing I couldn’t. I’ve stood on that line. I’ve questioned my worth. I’ve carried guilt that didn’t leave quietly.

But I never walked alone.

A Light in the Darkness

My wife has been a light through all of it. When I forgot who I was, she reminded me. When I couldn’t see beyond the fog, she pointed toward the horizon.

And maybe most powerfully—she saw this song and saw me. Not the polished version, not the one who keeps going—but the one who almost didn’t.

Sometimes, we don’t need someone to fix us.
We just need someone to say, “I see you. I still believe in you.”

That’s what she did. And that’s what God continues to do.

Why I Recorded a Video

I don’t record many personal reflections. But I had to speak on this one.

I sat down and talked about what this song stirred up in me—about survival, grace, the deep need to be seen, and how even when we think no one understands, God does. He knows the entire story—especially the parts we try to hide.

If you’ve ever felt lost, if you’ve ever been close to giving up, if you’re holding on by a thread—you’re not alone.

🎥 Watch the video here: [Only God Knows – My Story of Struggle, Grace, and Holding On]

Tell Your PeopleIf someone has been your light, your steady hand, your reason to keep going—tell them. Let them know they matter.
I’m grateful every day for my wife, who has been that for me.
And I’m grateful that songs like this exist—to help us say what we sometimes can’t.

Only God knows how far we’ve come.
And sometimes, that’s more than enough.

—

Tags: #OnlyGodKnows #JellyRoll #StruggleJennings #Redemption #FaithAndFire #PersonalReflection #HealingJourney #MusicThatMatters