When No One’s Watching… Who Are We Really?

There’s something about lying that cuts deep. Not the desperate kind, when someone’s cornered and panicked. That’s survival. No—what wounds the soul is the casual kind. The lies told out of convenience, ambition, ego. The lies told for profit when there's already more than enough. The lies told to win, no matter the cost.

What bothers me is how easily we accept it now—how normalized it’s become. We lie in politics. In business. In relationships. We lie when the truth would’ve cost us nothing but our pride. And if we’re honest, this isn’t new. It’s baked into the history of this nation—from slavery, to the betrayal and genocide of Native Americans, to countless acts of injustice cloaked in national interest or economic necessity. These weren't just political decisions—they were moral failures.

And I say this not to point fingers, but to open eyes. Because at its root, lying is more than just saying something false. It’s the gateway. It opens the door to all the other things—cheating, stealing, cruelty, greed, manipulation. It makes it easier to dehumanize, to dominate, to forget that we’re all just people trying to get through life with some measure of dignity.

But let’s not just talk about nations. Let’s talk about us. You and me. Because this is a human flaw, not just an American one. Maybe it comes from fear. Maybe from a deep sense of not being good enough unless we’re one step ahead—even if that means stepping on someone else.

Still, I believe there’s hope. History has seen its fair share of hopeless moments. And yet, the needle does move—but only when individuals begin to turn inward. When people dare to examine themselves honestly. When we stop pretending our actions don’t come with consequences. Because they do.

We’ve convinced ourselves that there’s no such thing as karma. That there’s no reaping for what we sow. That what goes around doesn’t come around. But if you really look—at your life, your children, your household—you might start to see the link between what we put out into the world and what circles back.

You cannot do evil and expect peace. And just as truly, you cannot consistently do good and not see goodness find its way back to you.

Look at what happens during disasters—like the floods out West. In those moments, people don’t ask for political credentials before lending a hand. They don’t care what color you are, what party you vote for, what you believe. They help because they’re human. Because that’s who we are without all the noise—without the greed and the selfishness and the justifications we make in quieter times.

It’s easy to divide ourselves when things are going well. But tragedy strips all that away and reveals what’s real. And what’s real is this: we are better when we care for each other. We are stronger when we stand together.

This isn’t just philosophy—it’s a charge. Because your children are watching you. Not just hearing your words, but absorbing your choices. They are becoming what you model, whether you mean to or not. You are the architect of their moral foundation. And the world they’ll grow into will be shaped by the truths—or lies—you live by.

So maybe it’s time we all started living like someone’s learning from us. Because they are.

Peace.

#TruthMatters #RaiseThemRight #MoralCourage #DoBetterBeBetter #IntegrityOverConvenience #HumanFirst #WeAreOne #ConsciousParenting #TeachByExample #LoveLoudly

Maybe One Day, We’ll Finally Get It

In the midst of watching the devastating floods in Texas, I found myself reflecting on how easily we get consumed by petty arguments, social differences, and unnecessary cruelty—especially when life feels easy and comfortable.

In times of peace, when nothing is threatening our lives or homes, we somehow find the time to tear each other apart.

We attack each other over skin color, politics, gender identity, borders, and beliefs—as if we all weren’t just human beings trying to make it through. We forget none of us chose to be born. We didn’t pick our country, our family, or the conditions we entered into. We just got here—on this little rock floating in space—and all any of us is trying to do is survive, heal, and hopefully find a bit of joy along the way.

But when tragedy strikes, something beautiful flickers in us. Suddenly, we remember: we’re not enemies. We’re neighbors. And if we could hold onto that in ordinary times—not just in emergencies—we might actually get somewhere.

Religious or not, it’s worth noting that the power in something like John 3:16 isn’t just in the promise of everlasting life—it’s in the beginning: “For God so loved the world…” The whole world. Not just your denomination. Not just your people. Not just your type. Everyone. That’s the part we skip over when we’re too busy dividing ourselves.

I’ve always believed that each of us carries strengths. But just as true—we all carry weaknesses. The point was never to shame each other for our weak spots. The point was to help each other. My strength might cover your blind spot. And yours might save me from myself. That’s how this was supposed to work.

I know it’s asking a lot. Maybe too much. Some of us are still carrying childhood scars—abandonment, rejection, abuse—and walking around trying to meet standards from fathers who never saw us, or aren’t even here anymore. And we’re bleeding on people who didn’t cut us.

Still… maybe a few of us can choose something better. Maybe a few of us times a thousand can grow something bigger than what hurt us. And maybe—just maybe—it’ll be enough to start tipping the world toward wholeness.

I think about sci-fi sometimes—shows like Star Trek, imagining a future where the whole planet is united. Maybe it’s naïve, but I believe it starts with how we raise our children, how we educate our communities, and how we learn to value one another simply because we’re here.

To the people in Texas: my heart is with you. This isn’t about red states or blue states. This isn’t politics. This is life. And sometimes, life gives us signs—not to punish us, but to wake us up. To remind us that the earth moves. That storms come. And that we are far more capable of surviving the worst when we are unified.

Peace.

#UnityOverDivision #HumanFirst #WeAllBelong #ForGodSoLovedTheWorld #CompassionCounts #PeaceInHardTimes #HopeInHumanity #BeTheHealing #CommonGround #TexasStrong

When the Mirror Finds You: What the Diddy Story Really Reflects About Us All

Let’s be real: it’s easy to point fingers. But at some point, we all end up staring into a mirror. And when we do, the question becomes not “What did they do?” but “What am I doing?”

The recent headlines about Sean “Diddy” Combs shook a lot of people—fame, wealth, legacy—all coming under fire.

But before we throw stones at the man, we’ve got to check whether we’re living in glass houses of our own. Because maybe this isn’t just a scandal to gossip about. Maybe it’s a wake-up call.

We all wrestle with weakness somewhere. Some folks wear theirs on their sleeves, and others tuck theirs behind polished smiles and tidy social media posts. But we all have something—whether it's pride, addiction, lust, dishonesty, or just the inability to say “I need help.” Power just makes the cracks more visible.

There’s an old saying: “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” And it doesn’t just apply to celebrities or politicians. It applies to any of us who stop being accountable—who get so comfortable, so unchecked, that we forget what it means to examine ourselves. Look at the state of politics right now.

Corruption is no longer the exception—it’s the atmosphere. But the truth is, that atmosphere can creep into homes, relationships, communities—our own hearts—if we’re not watching.

Scripture reminds us not to grow weary in doing what’s right, because in time, we’ll reap exactly what we’ve sown. That’s not punishment—it’s principle. And it doesn’t only apply to the rich and famous. It applies to the father who keeps secrets. The mother who’s quietly addicted to painkillers. The leader who’s lost his humility. The everyday person who thinks they can get away with it.

We can’t enforce rightness in others while breaking it ourselves. Just like a dirty cop can’t preach justice, we can’t call for accountability without being willing to live it.

So maybe instead of just shaking our heads at Diddy’s downfall, we ask ourselves a hard but healing question: Where in my life am I slipping? Not to beat ourselves up—but to wake ourselves up. Because what we ignore eventually owns us.

And what we justify eventually destroys something—whether it’s our integrity, our relationships, or our peace.

But here’s the good news: self-reflection doesn’t mean self-condemnation. It means realignment. It means redemption is still on the table. It means we can still choose to live better, love better, be better.

And that’s the point. We’re all walking through this life trying to stay upright. Some stumble in public. Some in private. But if we can own our steps, we can help others find theirs too.

Peace.

#AccountabilityStartsWithMe #LookInTheMirror #AnotherPerspectiveWithMartinJarvis #HealingNotHype #SelfCheckBeforeSideEye #WeAllGotSomething #PowerWithoutHumilityFalls #RedemptionIsStillPossible #LiveBetterLoveBetterBeBetter